“I’m not a mouse, I’m a princess. Bye Mr. ’bastian. Thank you.” With a sing-song farewell, she waves and skips into the house.
My client, her doting father, frowns. “It seems I owe you again, Mr. Sutcliff.”
“No sir. Just doing my job.” It does piss me off someone would try to hurt his sweet little girl to get to him. This here arms dealer must be an evil bastard to have people come after his kid with military grade weapons.
His next statement comes as a surprise. “We’ll be leaving for Russia, tomorrow and won’t be needing your services. Funds will be wired and you’ll find a rather substantial bonus.”
“Thank you, sir.”Yee haw.I’ve been hoping to take my honey on a vacation and a few bucks will help me take it up a notch.
After he disappears into his house, I call my Brooklyn babe on the other side of the country. “Hey sugar.”
“What happened? Are you okay? Was anyone hurt?” As expected, she sounds frantic so I use my well-honed pilot-over-the-intercom voice.Best you fasten your seatbelts. We’re headin’ into a bit of rough weather.
“It was a non-event.” At the end of the drive, a cruiser approaches with sirens blaring which causes my wife to shout, at least I hope that’s her reasoning.
“Are you shitting me? Have you even turned on the news?”
“Waaahl, to be fair, I’ve been a mite busy and I’d be happy to chat more but looks like the police are here. Bye, honey. Please call your family and explain. My voicemail is still full from the last time something happened. Love ya.”
I grin at the scowling State Trooper and shoot my hands in the air. “Weapon in my underarm holster. Knife in my right boot. My boss has forbidden me to talk to you gentlemen until my lawyer arrives. My business card and PI license are in my wallet, left back pocket. Dashcam is in the vehicle. My keys are still in the ignition.”
Slate chuckles in my ear. “They haven’t noticed your comm unit?”
When the cops move out of range, I lower my head and whisper into my chest. “No sir, they have not and if you would be so kind, keep my wife informed. If she kills me, I swear I will bequeath my damn cat to you.”
“Copy that.” His laugh assures me I’m still on his good side so I stretch my luck.
“Can you make sure my lawyer brings a huge ol’ box of coffee and donuts? It’s going to be a long night.” While I smirk, he tries to convince me how holding the Guinness Book record for rambling is not a thing.
Cuffed and on my way downtown, I picture the bonus in my checking account. The first thing I’m going to do is make love to my pretty wife, then take a well-earned trip to someplace warm.
Chapter 2
Samantha Sutcliff
AKA Sam
AKA Danger Magnet
Waiting for Mrs. Murphy and her niece to pass, I hide behind the jewelry case in the front of the local drug store and whisper into my cell phone. “Love you, too. Bye.”
The last time my husband was brought in for questioning, he talked nonstop for fourteen and a half hours. I feel sorry for the Feds until I picture them taking bets. If I were there, I’d double down on my better half. Given the opportunity, he’s sure to break his previous record. The man is a genius at being long-winded, especially if he doesn’t want to say anything important.
He won’t be available to talk again for hours which, in a way, suits my purpose. This way, he can’t blame me for not telling him why I’m here. Sure, I procrastinated for weeks but I was about to tell him until the cops showed up. Missing my second period in a row might mean nothing at all. The doctor changed my prescription and said I may not bleed. That’s probably all this is. And if not, well, I don’t know what I’ll do. Suds and I talked about having kids, but not seriously, and certainly not yet.
What if I am the P-word? First, there’s the small matter of our loft-slash-office. The spiral staircase may be fine for two adults, but a baby? No way. It could roll down and… oh God. We need a bigger place with an actual bedroom, maybe two, and we can barely afford what we have.
The aisle clear, I race down, and kneel in front of the pregnancy tests. Which one do I pick? One has a pink plus sign, one displays the word pregnant or not-pregnant, and yet another turns bright colors. Unsure, I grab one of each and I’m so deep in thought, I miss Mrs. Nardo sneaking up behind me.
She eyes the colorful boxes in my hands and exclaims with joy written all over her face. “Are you pregnant, Samantha?”
“Nope. Nope. No. I’m ah… I’m buying for my cousin.” I drop everything and lift my hands as if under arrest.
“Rose?” Her smeared red lips form into an evil grin, pondering the mayhem she can create with her slanderous gossip.
“No, not her.”Oh shit.She will kill me.
“Not Saint Mia?” Her voice goes up another octave and her-painted on brows raise almost to her blue hairline.
