Page 153 of Out Of A Fix

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Just, her hair’s gonna be blue. Like, a bright neon blue.”

“And the school said that’s fine?”

“Yep, sure did.”

“Okay, whatever. What’re you gonna do after you put groceries and blue hair dye away?”

“Then I will finish the last of the notes on the job that brought me here so Owen can send a note to the accountant that the billing stopped the day you arrived home.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because Jared Colter always cuts the bill off from the day two people fall in love. As he says, that’s only good karma.”

“That’s very interesting.”

God. He was going to be insufferable.

“You realize the fact that the man has a stipulation like that in his contract speaks to how many fixers leave for love.”

“No.”

“Please. I was right. I was right the whole time, and you were giving me grief that day.”

“Fine. Maybe it happens every now and then,” I granted.

“Now and then my ass!” he crowed.

“Let it go.”

“You’re so full of crap,” he replied, laughing softly. “And you’ll be happy to know I invited Abel to come here whenever it’s convenient. He’s hoping to visit us right after New Year’s.”

“That’s amazing. I’m very proud of you.”

“Well, he sent you to me, so I have to thank him, and anyone who loves my kids and wants to protect them is someone they should know.”

Pulling into our driveway, waiting for the garage door to open, once I parked and got out, the second I turned toward the trunk, Wilson was there. If I hadn’t been on the phone with Luke, paying more attention to him than my surroundings, I might have seen Wilson on the side of the house, because that was the only place he could have come from. As it was, he was standing in front of me, leveling a Sig Sauer P229 Legion at the center of my chest. It must’ve been his duty weapon, which should’ve been removed during his issues with the law over the past month. Strange the things that went through your head, logical things, when faced with possible death.

“Chief,” I said into the phone.

“Chief?” Luke repeated.

“Stop moving and put your phone and gun on the ground.”

Owen was going to be annoyed when he had to replace another phone for me.

“Nash?” Luke whispered.

“It’s gonna be okay,” I assured him, hung up, pulled my Glock and put it on the ground, then added my phone.

Wilson came around the front of the Jeep, gun never lowering, and I noticed the dead look in his eyes.

“You’re blaming me,” I offered, doing what I always did in these situations—keep them talking. The fact of the matter was, most people would not kill you if they were talking. When yelling or screaming, yes, but not when engaged in conversation.

“Of course I’m blaming you. If you hadn’t sprung that little bastard, I could have had time to regroup from Mullane.”

Exactly as I’d thought. “That happened fast…with Mullane.”