“Detective,” I say, stopping her before she can leave.
“Yes?”
“Waylon was pulled into this… I really hope you can figure out why they did this because we need to keep him safe.”
She gives me a nod. “I’m working on it. It’d be easier if everyone told me the truth.”
“Well, if you need some PIs to help you out, we’d love to help,” I say.
“We have it handled,” she claims, even though she plainly doesn’t. Weirdly, it seems like it’s justourhelp she doesn’t want.
Patel finally leaves and I look over at Jackson.
“How could she ever think my perfect husband did anything?”
“Ew,” Cassel says. “Nowmyperfect husband, on the other hand?—”
“Eats squirrels.”
“I wish I’d never told you that,” he cries.
“Jackson and I are going out on a date for lunch. If Patel comes back, lock her in the closet. I’ll try to make friends with her like I did with Henry. So far, the success rate of that strategy is one hundred percent.”
“Not sure how it is, but understood,” Cassel responds. “Mason and I will lock up the highly suspicious detective if she ever sets foot in here again.”
“On it, boss,” Mason says as he gives me a nod.
TWELVE
LELAND
When lunch comes, I rush out the door without Jackson, who takes far too long to meet me at the car.
“Why?” he asks.
“Why what, honey? Why are you so slow in your old age? I don’t know. But it’s okay, honey, I will love you no matter how slow you are. Even in bed.”
“Isn’t this supposed to be a loving date? Yet you’ve already run off without me, made fun of my age, and told me I was slow in bed. Like… isn’t that better than being too fast?”
“I said date. Never added ‘loving’ anywhere to it. Now get in the car, ya slow fucker.”
“I feel like I’m getting kidnapped.”
“My favorite kind of date,” I say. The moment he’s inside the car, I lock the doors. He tries to manually unlock them, but I relock them just as quickly.
“True love, right here,” he says as his hand hovers over the unlock button. Like what is his plan here? To leap out of a moving car on our way to our date?
I then turn his heated seat on and because he’s so busy staring at the door lock, he doesn’t even notice. Really, it’s kindof me to make sure he’ll be extra toasty by the time we reach our destination.
“Jackson, I want you to know that if anything ever happens to me, you will be receiving guns in the mail for up to the next five years.”
“Why? And what brought this up?” he asks.
“Because I realized that if I died, the guns would still keep coming. Just like if you died, I assume I would get sexy magazines of cars for the next five years.”
“First off, have you ever even seen mereada magazine? Second, why do you have so many coming? Is it like a freaking book box where they come monthly?”
I freeze as the idea of that settles in my overly active mind. “That would be the greatest subscription box to have ever existed. Do you think?—”
