No Limos Allowed

Storm Warnings, Gumshoe Edition

Griff

Closing time. This should've been the best part of the day.

Not for me.

And not now.

Maisie had said she'd return an hour before closing. But I hadn't seen any signs of her. No texts. No calls. No nothing.

I knew because I'd been here the whole time, manning the front desk like a lighthouse-keeper in a storm. The place was empty except for me, the tick of the clock, and the lingering echo of our last non-customers – those two asshats trying to act tough.

The rain had picked up, now with enough wind to rattle the windows. The sign still said OPEN, but no one was coming through that door. Anyone with half a brain had ditched their bikes for fudge and shelter – a smart move considering the storm.

The forecast for tomorrow was sunny and bright, not that it would do any good for Maisie's shop. On Wednesdays, the shop was closed, which meant if I didn't see her tonight, it would be nearly two days before I confirmed with my own eyes that she was safe and sound.

I snuck another glance at the clock. Shit. It was time to lock the door and hit the lights. It wasn't, however, time for me to leave.

No. I'd be sticking around for another hour, maybe two, to see if Maisie showed. I didn't need an excuse. I had plenty of reasons, including that tandem with rusted cables and a rear seat-post that wouldn't budge.

But first things first. Lock the door, flip the lights, get everything good and secure. I was maybe halfway to the door when it swung inward with a jingle of the bell and a gust of cold, wet wind.

And there she was – Maisie, looking rougher than I'd ever seen her. Behind her was her usual bike, parked haphazardly near the door.

She stepped inside, moving slow and unsteady, like the lone survivor of a wicked shipwreck. As she turned to shut the door, I got a good, long look at her profile and felt myself frown. Her clothes were soaked, her skin was pale, and her ponytail was dripping wet.

Taking it all in, I felt a surge of relief that she was finally here, followed by a new kind of tension deep in my gut. She looked a mess – and not the flustered, adorable kind I was used to. This was something else. She looked worn out and tired down to her bones.

I moved forward to ask, "Is everything alright?"

"Yup. Fine." She didn't smile as she said it, which for Maisie was one hell of a warning sign. Something was wrong.

When she shivered, I fought a sudden urge to reach out and gather her in my arms. Whether for warmth or support, she looked like she needed it.

But needing and wanting were two different things, so instead, I silently watched as she peeled off a saturated windbreaker and let it fall to the floor.

She gave another shiver before saying, "Sorry I didn't call.

I would've but…" She winced. "If you want the truth, I was just holding on for dear life. "

I shook my head. "Holding onto what?"

"My seat," she said, looking a little green around the gills. "The water was really rough today."

I felt the blood drain from my face. "Wait…so you were on the water?"

"Unfortunately." She wiped rain from her forehead with the back of her hand. "I had that meeting at the bank, remember?"

"Yeah, but…I thought it was here on the island."

She grimaced. "I wish." She gave another shudder. "Do you know, I saw like five people throw up on the boat?"

I glanced toward the window. Outside, the rain was coming down in sheets – sideways sheets – slamming against the glass like the storm had a personal grudge.

In a quieter voice, Maisie added, "Of course, there were like only ten people on the whole boat, so that's a fifty percent ratio."

I wasn't afraid of boats, but for some reason, the thought of Maisie in rough water was enough to turn my blood to ice. "You took the ferry? In this? " Yeah, I knew the answer. I just didn't want to believe it.

She sighed. "I didn't have much of a choice."

Not the way I saw it. "But you could've postponed."

"The meeting?" Her mouth tightened. "Yeah, well…I tried."

"And?" Maybe it was none of my business, but until she told me to buzz off, I wasn't gonna let it drop.

"And nothing," she said with a hint of bitterness. "They said no before I finished asking." She headed for the counter, where she grabbed a clean shop-towel and started drying off without meeting my eyes.

Yup, something was definitely wrong.

And it was more than the weather.

I studied her face. "So, what bank was this?" Whatever it was, I wanted to give them holy hell for making her travel in such a storm. Would I actually do it? I had the guts and the clout. The only thing I didn't have was Maisie's permission, which was the real sticking point.

She finished with the rag and set it on the counter. "Actually…it's not a bank-bank."

Outside, lightning flashed, and a crack of thunder hit close enough to rattle my teeth. The lights flickered as I asked, "What does that mean?"

Maisie frowned. "I think we're gonna lose power."

Nice dodge. "But we haven't yet," I reminded her. "So you're saying it's not a bank?"

"Not officially. I just mean…it's more of an investment company." She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "But they're pretty small. You wouldn't know them."

Maybe not. But they would know me if I had any say in this. "Their name," I persisted. "What is it?"

She gave a listless shrug. "It doesn't matter. It was just a basic loan meeting."

Bullshit. Whatever had happened, it was anything but basic. But I could pry later all I wanted. Now, other things were more important. "Have you had dinner?"

"Nah, but I'm not hungry."

"Because of the boat ride?"

She gave a weak laugh. "No, because of everything else."

Softer now, I asked, "You wanna talk about it?"

"Nah. It's just business stuff – nothing I can't handle." Her voice warmed as she gave me a genuine smile. "But thanks, seriously."

The smile hit me hard and fast, like a ray of sunlight on a gloomy day. I glanced at the clock. "Hang on. Lemme grab your bike."

She looked toward the front. "Oh, crap. I forgot I left it there." She made a move toward the door. "I'll get it."

I held up a hand. "Nah, I've gotta lock up, anyway. I'll grab it. You dry off."

Her gaze drifted to the soaked towel. "But I'm mostly dry, already."

Yeah, right. I gave her a look. "You're dryer than you were – I'll give you that. But you're still wetter than the sidewalk."

She glanced toward the window. "If you think that's bad, you should've seen the boat. The water was literally sloshing over the deck."

I was glad I hadn't seen it – not with Maisie on board.

Before she could object further, I strode to the door and yanked it open just enough to grab her bike and lift it into the shop.

Water dripped onto the tile as I shut the door behind me and flipped the lock.

Then, I hit the switch to darken the OPEN sign and walked back toward the counter.

Maisie was still standing behind it, aimlessly adjusting things that didn't need adjusting – pens, paperwork, the clipboard by the register. She looked like a storm survivor pretending to be fine.

The last thing I wanted was to add to her worry. But if I kept quiet and something happened – well, that was something I didn't want to think about.

I lowered my voice. "Listen…I had a couple of visitors while you were gone."

She didn't look up. "Customers?"

"Not exactly."

That got her attention. When our eyes met, her expression was curious. "What do you mean?"

"Remember those two guys I mentioned?"

"The 'suspicious' ones?" She said it with quotes like it was some kind of joke.

It was no joke to me . But I wasn't insulted. I was concerned. "Yeah. And get this. One of them was wearing a trench coat."

Her gaze drifted to the rain-splattered window. "Yeah, I can see why."

" And sunglasses."

She gave me a weak smile. "Like Chad?"

I didn't smile back – not because she was wrong, but because someone had to take this seriously. "He was no Chad. He was looking to scare me off. Same with the other guy."

She froze. "What?"

Shit. I hadn't meant to be so blunt, but now that I had her full attention, I pressed onward. "They told me to leave before things got ugly."

She gave the window another glance. With a half-hearted chuckle, she said, "They probably meant the weather."

I felt my jaw clench. "It's no joke, Maisie."

"Who says I'm joking?" She sounded annoyed, like I'd pushed it too far.

But I wasn't ready to let it go. "One of them – the guy with the coat and sunglasses – he was dressed like a gumshoe for God's sake."

"What's a gumshoe?" Her face scrunched. "Wait…do you mean like an old-timey detective?"

"That's exactly what I mean. He was even wearing a hat."

"You mean a detective hat? Like…a fedora?" She gave a tired laugh. "And you took them seriously?"

Talk about a loaded question. Had I acted serious? Probably not. But that didn't mean I wasn't concerned. Reluctantly, I replied, "More or less." I hadn't felt in danger, but I wasn't Maisie.

Her eyes narrowed. "Okay…tell me this. When they told you to 'leave before things got ugly,' what did you say?"

Shit. "It's not important."

"Yes, it is." She gave me a penetrating look. "What, you don't want to tell me?"

"Not particularly," I admitted.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you thinking it's a joke."

Her eyebrows lifted. "Now, I really want to know what you said."

Damn it. "Alright." I looked away before saying, "I asked…" I stopped to clear my throat. "…whether he meant ugly like his glasses or ugly like his coat."

When I looked back to Maisie, she was staring like I'd just grown antlers. "Really?"

I reached up to rub the back of my neck. "Uh, yeah."

She burst out laughing. "And you want me to take it seriously?"

Well, at least I'd made her laugh. "Why wouldn't you?"

"Because you didn't."

"Yeah, well I'm not you."

She rolled her eyes. "Obviously."

She was missing the point. I could handle those guys without breaking a sweat. But Maisie was smaller than both of them and ten times more decent. "Maisie – "

She held up a hand. "Listen, I know you're trying to help, but this isn't the big city."

"I never said it was."

She sighed. "You wanna know what I think?"

"What?"

"They were probably developers or something. We get those a lot – city people, trying to buy up our shops." She glanced around. "Sometimes they get a little pushy."

This wasn't what I wanted to hear. "So this has happened before?"

"Well…not the way you describe. But…" She looked away. "Never mind."

Not so fast. "No. Tell me."

"Well…as far as developers, I generally don't insult them, so they're probably nicer to me ."

What the hell? "I didn't insult them until they asked for it."

"Look, I'm not blaming you. I'm just saying that small towns are different. It's not your fault. I mean…it's not like you'd know."

I crossed my arms. "Says who?"

"Well…you obviously grew up in the city."

Now that was a joke. "Which city?"

"I dunno. A big one."

"And you know this how?"

"I just do." She said it like she knew me.

She didn't.

Not yet.

It was time to set her straight – and just maybe, distract her from her troubles. "Well you're wrong." I paused for half a beat. "Me? I grew up in a trailer park."