Chapter 7 #3
August’s shoulders dropped. “Rude.”
“What? It’s an idea!”
“It’s a bullshit idea. Oh! What if we put a saddle on your back and a bit in your mouth, and I rode you all around town like my pony! You could be one of those Spanish horses. What are they called?”
Ricardo rolled his eyes as he got to his feet. “Pura Raza Espanola. And no.”
“What? Why not? Where’s your sense of adventure? Not to mention supporting your husband and his sore feet?”
“And his shopping addiction.”
“Yes, that too! Also I thought they were called Andalusians.”
Ricardo sniffed. “That’s what Americans call them. They’re Pura Raza Espanola.”
“Okay, okay, whatever. You can be a… a…” August waved his hand as he gingerly got to his feet. “Pure raspberry spaniel. Whatever. But then my feet won’t hurt!”
“They also won’t hurt if we stay here, so…”
“But if we stay here, we’ll end up watching… football.”
Ricardo cocked a brow. “Keep it up, and we’ll watch American football.”
“Pfft. Empty threat. You won’t even make it through the first quarter before you’re ranting and raving about how hand-egg isn’t a real sport. Now shut up and let’s order you a saddle.”
Ricardo just chuckled and shook his head. August could be a pain in the ass, but at least when he was snarking and sassing, that usually meant his feet didn’t hurt unbearably. It was the times when he was subdued and quiet that worried him.
While August puttered around with his shopping—mostly transferring items from bags into drawers or suitcases—Ricardo took out his phone.
And when had Heidi texted him? Shit, he’d missed it, and it was almost two hours old. Must’ve been while they were walking on the sidewalk and the noise of the city—and August—had drowned out Ricardo’s own thoughts.
He opened the text.
Heidi
Got a job for the two of you. Call me.
“Heidi’s got a job for us,” he said as he switched to her contact.
August turned around, eyes wide. “Oh yeah?”
“Mmhmm.” Ricardo put the phone to his ear. “Getting the details now.”
August crossed the room, seeming to forget he was still holding that blue cashmere sweater he’d paid a small fortune for. Why did he even need that? They lived on the Mediterranean, for God’s sake.
“About time,” Heidi said, yanking Ricardo’s thoughts away from the stupid sweater. “Where have you been?”
“My husband needed some retail therapy.”
She snorted. “Big shock. Anyway, this is definitely a two-man job, so it’s perfect for the two of you.”
“Let me put you on speaker, then.” Ricardo did so as August sat on the edge of the bed. “Okay. We’re both here.”
“Hi, August,” Heidi said. “Hope the shopping was good.”
“Always is when the person shopping has my taste. You should see the suit I bought for Ricardo. Rawr.”
Heidi giggled and Ricardo kicked August’s shin.
“Anyway.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll send the details by courier to your hotel, but the bottom line is a billionaire’s wife suspected he was involved in some incredibly slimy shit.”
“A billionaire?” Ricardo exclaimed sarcastically. “Involved in slimy shit? Never!”
August gave him the finger.
Heidi laughed. “I know, right? But the thing is, the deeper she dug, the worse it got. At first she thought it was just some fraud here and there and maybe he was cheating. But then she actually stumbled across one of his three mistresses, who had also been doing some digging of her own, and she found proof he’s been funneling money from a kid’s cancer charity into his own back pocket. ”
August made a disgusted face. So did Ricardo.
Heidi went on, “Long story short, she got in touch with the other two mistresses, found a whole network of evildoings, and they decided to end him.”
“Smart ladies,” August said. “And then what? They’re going to shack up like the Golden Girls and spend all his money?”
“Probably. Apparently they’ve all become very close during this process. I kind of got the impression the ex-wife is actually with one of the mistresses now, but that’s none of my business.”
“Good for them,” August declared. “Fuck yeah, we’ll take that job.”
Ricardo arched an eyebrow.
August huffed. “Let me rephrase—I’m in as long as my wonderful loving husband also communicates that he’s in.” He followed that up by sticking his tongue out and rolling his eyes.
Ricardo fought back a laugh. “I don’t know. I might have to think about—”
“Oh, fuck you.” August shoved him. “You’d do that job for free.”
“Like hell you will,” Heidi said. “I want my commission, damn it.”
Ricardo laughed. “Okay, okay. Yes, I’m in.”
“Of course you are,” Heidi said. “All right. I’ll send everything over via courier. Apparently Fuckknuckle McFuckhead is hosting a charity gala next weekend, and the ladies will be especially happy if the job is done there.”
“Ooh, you hear that?” August lit up. “That means we can bump our rating back up!”
“Yes, you can,” Heidi said. “So don’t fuck this one up.”
With that, the call ended. Ricardo tossed his phone aside and leaned back against the headboard, fingers laced together behind his head.
“Well,” he said. “Looks like we’re back in business. Again.”