Chapter 23
23
DAX
While I didn’t tell her I agreed with her that there was probably something shady going on in the pickle store, I really didn’t care. I knew bad guys and they wanted to do their shady shit and be left alone. To do things right to hide all the things they were doing wrong. The fact that this was happening right in the fucking middle of this Disney-like town was now a pain in my ass.
Interestingly–and annoyingly–I had bigger problems to worry about than pickle people. I had women problems. Yes, plural. The women of Coal Springs were either ridiculously bored, or they needed to get laid and get laid really, really well. Probably both.
Based on the sheer quantity of customers–practically all women–Hannah had a gold mine with her store. By chance, I’d seen Fiona walk into the pickle shop and had told the women to hold down the fort while I stepped out. I’d given a wink to seal the deal and went to tackle my girl and her obsession with pickles. I highly doubted they were going to steal from Hannah while I was out.
When I returned with Fiona, the shop was, if possible, even busier. I went behind the counter, again using the three feet of hardwood and laminate as protection.
What the hell happened to the break that Jack told me I needed and could get in Coal Springs? Pancake didn’t give a shit about me other than that I fed him and got a few pets before he went off and did his own thing, which was good because I was too fucking busy to entertain him more than that.
I had a fake girlfriend who worked for the FBI. Whose partner planned to frame her with planted evidence.
A meddling senior citizen chef who was retired from an admin job at the police station.
Pickle people who were doing shady shit right across the street that, based on the FUCKERS OF COAL SPRINGS list of Jack’s, weren’t on his radar yet.
A job at a local bookstore that had me reading anal sex scenes to horny women.
I needed a break from my break.
Fiona leaned against the counter beside me and stared at the crowd with wide eyed fascination. “I had no idea romance books were such big business,” she murmured. “Good for Hannah. ”
A woman came to the counter with three books and a brazen smile. “I’m Kate.”
“He’s taken,” Fiona offered, setting a proprietary hand on my shoulder.
The smile slipped, but she replied, “Lucky you.”
I knew the register well enough by now to quickly finalize her sale.
“Thank you,” I whispered, right before another woman approached to pay. Fortunately, she didn’t introduce herself, proposition me or hand me her number. She only used her cell to tap the payment, so it went fast.
“Dottie’s dinner. I’m in this for Dottie’s food,” Fiona reminded.
My cell rang and I saw the name that was displayed. Fuck.
“Hello,” I said.
“You’re late,” Bones Biggles snapped.
He was a loan shark with a dumbass name. He was also feared, which had me wonder why people borrowed money from him they often couldn’t repay. For the past five years, it’d been my job for him to collect this money or make them pay with something else. Like fingers.
“Shit,” I muttered, having missed my usual drop-off time. I forgot all about it with the anal sex reading.
“Shit? What the hell does that mean? You in the hospital or dyin’ or somethin’?”
I hadn’t once missed a meeting with him. I was diligent. Consistent. And ruthless enough to satisfy him. That was why he wondered after my health .
“Something,” I replied, flicking my gaze to Fiona, who was watching closely, although she couldn’t hear Bones’ side of the conversation.
The last thing I needed was an FBI agent who picked up the scent of illegal activity like a bloodhound to put Bones under surveillance, too.
“Be there soon.” I didn’t wait for him to say more and hung up.
I had to go to Denver. The only pickup I had to handle today was Jimmy McFee. Hopefully, when I stopped at his bar, he’d have the latest installment of his gambling debt because I didn’t have my garden shears with me. I’d only had to take one of his fingers with them before he got the memo that he really did have to pay the money back.
“What’s going on?” Fiona asked.
I flicked my gaze her way. That damn curiosity couldn’t be missed. “I have to go to Denver.”
“Now?” She looked around. “Why?”
“I have an appointment I forgot about.”
“Dentist?” She shook her head. “No, proctologist. Hope they find what’s stuck up your ass.”
I glared. “For work,” I countered.
“What is it that you do again?” She tapped her chin. “That’s right, you’ve never told me. We’re dating now and I don’t even know.”
“We were going to talk about it over dinner,” I said, stalling.
“Now would work, too. ”
Her sass made me want to kiss her until she forgot about being defiant.
“I repossess things.” I wasn’t used to answering this question. I didn’t let women stick around long enough for the need.
She frowned. “You’re a repo guy? Huh.”
Technically. I repossessed money, people, and other things.
She probably thought I collected people’s cars and TVs they didn’t finish paying for. I wasn’t going to change that perception.
“Huh? What does that mean?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I just pictured you doing something different.”
I frowned, then was immensely curious, even though this was a dangerous topic. “What do you see me doing?”
She studied me for a minute. “I’m not a profiler, but I’d say you don’t have a boss. No way could you handle being told what to do.”
That was reasonable.
“The other day you wore a suit that cost more than my mortgage… for probably the entire year.”
I did like nice suits.
“You carry a gun.”
Yes.
“Paid assassin.”
I froze. Every molecule in my body literally went into shock. Maybe she should be a profiler. Slowly, I smiled, then waved my hand. “You figured me out. I don’t see the handcuffs. You’re not arresting me.”
Another shrug. “I’m on vacation.”
Okay, time to extract myself from this. “I gotta go.”
She looked me over with surprise and doubt. “Seriously?”
I was used to lying. Fudging the truth. Taking fingers. Dealing with dead bodies. I could handle Fiona’s probing gaze. “Yup. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
She had a nonchalance about her that reminded me of Pancake. “Cool. I’ll eat Dottie’s dinner by myself.”
Yeah, just like Pancake. She didn’t care what I did and only wanted food.
“I’ll be back for that, sweetheart. In the meantime, make sure this place doesn’t burn down.”
She stared at me, her mouth dropping open. “What?”
“You need to run the shop.”
She shook her head and stepped back, but I snagged her hand before she could bolt. “No, I don’t.”
“Yeah, you do. I had it closed for most of yesterday.”
“Not my monkeys, not my zoo.”
I frowned. “I don’t know what that means.”
She set her free hand on her hips. “It means fuck no.”
Why the hell did I fall for a woman who was so fucking contrary and liked to swear like a sailor? Jack fell for a mild librarian. Why couldn’t she have a sister? Inwardly, I cringed, because she did. I tried to block her out. While Briana Highcliff was probably ridiculously flexible, she was also a nympho lunatic .
I glanced around with the same level of disinterest in romance as she did. “If I can run this place, then you can.”
“Oh, I can run the hell out of a bookstore. But like I said, I’m on vacation.”
“Yeah, I was just peacefully cat sitting and now I’m running a bookstore and being your boyfriend.”
She huffed. “Fine. I want something in return.”
I stepped close and murmured, “Anal? I know all about how a woman likes it.”
Another customer came to check out with three books tucked against her chest and unfortunately overheard. A little whimper escaped her lips.
“No,” Fiona replied. The way her eyes shifted I had to think that the no was actually a maybe .
The customer cut into our convo. “Honey, if he’s offering that, you gotta say yes.”
I grinned. “Listen to the woman, Fiona,” I added, amused by her obvious discomfort. And turned on, because it meant she hadn’t done it before. Or done it right. I could change her thinking. It was hot as hell, but not a requirement because Fiona was fucking fire as it was.
I took the woman’s books and rang her up.
“He’s the one with something lodged deep in his ass,” Fiona countered and gave me a fuck you look.
Oh, yeah. Fire.