He reemerged but only partly. “What’s a Flowbee?” #101 | | |
“Angel.” I put a finger under his chin and stroked the barely emerging growth of hair that peppered his jaw. “I need to know where he is.” #102 | | |
“Can I see you na**d first?” #103 | | |
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“You want to see me naked?” #105 | | |
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He straightened, offended. “If I was still alive, I’d be older than you.” #107 | | |
“But you aren’t,” I reminded him gently. “And I’m sorry for that.” #108 | | |
“You aren’t going to like it.” #109 | | |
“That’s okay. I just need to know where he is.” #110 | | |
“He’ll be at Garber Shipping in the warehouse district tonight.” #111 | | |
“At a shipping warehouse?” I asked, surprised. “Is he working there?” #112 | | |
Reyes had money. Lots and lots of money. His sister told me. So why would he be doing manual labor for a shipping company? #113 | | |
After Angel took a long moment to nibble at a hangnail, he said, “Depends on your definition of work.” #114 | | |
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After being stunned speechless by Reyes’s new job title, I walked toward my front door, wrapped a hand around the knob, then rethought what I was doing. I was going to face Reyes Farrow. Unarmed. #116 | | |
Reyes had never tried to hurt me directly, but he’d been out of prison for two months. Who knew what the man was capable of? He’d probably learned a lot of bad habits since leaving the big house. Like cheating at poker. And urinating in public. #117 | | |
Even though I wasn’t much for carrying firearms—every time I carried a gun, images of it being wrestled away from me and used to end my life always flashed before my eyes—I headed back to my bedroom for Margaret. #118 | | |
I figured, when facing a dirty, lying scoundrel like Reyes Farrow, one couldn’t be too careful. Or too armed. So I slid a belt through the loops of my jeans, holstered the Glock, then snapped the clasp closed. #119 | | |
After another deep breath, I headed out the door only to lose steam when I came to the stairs. The same stairs I’d taken a gazillion times before. They looked steeper somehow. More dangerous. #120 | | |
My hands shook on the rail as I paused on each step, working up the courage to take the next, wondering what in the name of thunder was wrong with me. True, it’d been a while since I’d ventured out, but surely the world hadn’t changed that much. #121 | | |
When I finally made it down two flights of stairs to the first floor, I studied the steel entrance door to the complex. It sat ajar, not quite closed, and daylight streamed in around the edges. I forced one foot in front of the other, my breaths shallow, my palms slick with a nervous energy. #122 | | |
I reached a quaking hand for the vertical handle and pushed. Daylight rushed in, flooding the area and blinding me. My breath caught and I pulled the door shut. Leaning against the handle for support, I took in long gulps of air, and tried to calm myself. #123 | | |
One minute. I just needed a minute to gather my wits. They were always running amok, wreaking havoc. #124 | | |
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Without thought, I drew the gun from my holster and aimed toward the voice coming from the shadowy entranceway. #126 | | |
A woman gasped and jumped back, her eyes wide, gaping at the barrel pointed at her face. “I—I’m so sorry. I thought—” #127 | | |
“Who are you?” I asked, holding the gun so much steadier than I thought possible, considering the irrational state of my insides. #128 | | |
“Harper.” She held her hands up in surrender. “My name is Harper Lo—” #129 | | |
“What do you want?” I had no idea why I was still holding the gun on her. Normally, nice women with no hidden agenda whatsoever didn’t scare me. It was weird. #130 | | |
“I’m looking for Charley Davidson.” #131 | | |
I lowered the gun but didn’t holster it. Not just yet. She could turn out to be psychotic. Or a door-to-door salesperson. “I’m Charley. What do you want?” I cringed at the sharpness of my own voice. Why was I behaving so badly? I’d eaten a good breakfast. #132 | | |
“I—I’d like to hire you. I think someone is trying to kill me.” #133 | | |
I narrowed my eyes, took in her appearance. Long dark hair. Tall and curvy, full figured in a very pretty way. Soft features. Neat clothes. She had a baby blue scarf tied loosely at her neck, the ends tucked into her dark blue coat. #134 | | |
Her eyes were large, warm, and captivating. All in all, she didn’t look crazy. Then again, neither did most crazy people. #135 | | |
“You’re looking for a PI?” A girl could hope. I hadn’t had a job in two months. Apparently. I glanced up toward Cookie’s apartment. #136 | | |
“Yes. An investigator.” #137 | | |
I took a deep breath and holstered Margaret. “I’m kind of in between offices at the moment. We can talk in my apartment, if that’s okay.” #138 | | |
She nodded briskly, fear evident in every move she made. Poor thing. She clearly didn’t deserve my surly side. #139 | | |
With head hung in shame, I started back upstairs. They were much easier to climb than to descend. That wasn’t usually the case. Especially after a two-month veg-a-thon. My muscles should have atrophied by now. #140 | | |
“Can I get you anything?” I asked when we reached my apartment. I was only slightly out of breath. #141 | | |
“Oh, no, thank you. I’m fine.” She was eyeing me warily. Not that I could blame her. My people skills needed a good honing. “Are you okay?” she asked. #142 | | |
“I’m fine. The wheezing will go away in a minute. It’s been a while since I took those stairs.” #143 | | |
“Oh, does this building have an elevator?” #144 | | |
“Um, no. You know, I’m not sure it’s wise to go into someone’s apartment who just pulled a gun on you.” #145 | | |
She’d been busy perusing the mess that was my office-slash-apartment-slash-ballroom-area-when-the-dancing-bug-hit. #146 | | |
She dropped her gaze in embarrassment at my words. “I guess I’m a little desperate.” #147 | | |
I offered her the chair and I took the couch. Thankfully, Aunt Lillian still wasn’t back from Africa. After picking up a notepad and pen, I asked, “So, what’s going on?” #148 | | |
She swallowed hard and said, “I’ve been having strange things happen to me. Bizarre things.” #149 | | |
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