No Rep

by Vale, Lani Lynn

Murphy looked like he’d gladly take him out of my arms, but the fact that his hands and half his body was covered in enough grease to cause Mavis—the woman who hated dirt and grime more than anything in the world—to have an apoplectic fit stilled his movements.

  “We need you to teach us how to take out a driveshaft,” Mavis repeated.

  I looked at Mavis, then to Murphy who was once again stunned into silence, and grinned.

  Mavis and Murphy couldn’t be any more different from each other.

  Where Mavis was small, blonde, pale and waifish, Murphy was tall, very strong, and had the most beautiful dark hair that fell perfectly in a messy cascade around his face.

  Mavis never left the house in anything but pristine clothing. Murphy looked like he didn’t own clothes that didn’t have grease covering them.

  Mavis was the good girl through and through, and Murphy looked like he could be the bad boy that soiled the good girl.

  Mavis had a thing for Madden, but if I was being completely honest, I didn’t think she knew what she wanted. She had a dream of a house, two kids, and a dog with a white picket fence. For some reason, she had always pictured a man like Madden being her ‘endgame.’ But Murphy? Murphy looked like he’d set fire to Mavis’s lawn, knock her up with five or ten kids, and enjoy every single second of it.

  I couldn’t wait to see how this played out…

  Vlad leaned over again.

  “Oh, just take him,” Mavis griped.

  Murphy took Vlad and grinned as he did, making my heart squeeze at the sight.

  Once Vlad was settled in his arms, Murphy looked at Mavis with a frown.

  “If I show you, will you leave?” Murphy grumbled.

  I looked from Mavis who narrowed her eyes to Murphy who was looking at Vlad as if he were his son, and not some random woman’s he didn’t like.

  “Yes,” Mavis replied sweetly.

  “If you get in trouble for this, just don’t fuc—freakin’ blame me,” Murphy ordered.

  He then proceeded to tell Mavis exactly how to take out a driveshaft.

  When he was done, Mavis picked up the wrench that he’d been using and said, “I’ll bring this back in an hour.”

  Before Murphy could say a word to the contrary, Mavis had Vlad in her arms, and she was all but marching down the driveway to her minivan.

  Before I could move in her direction, Murphy caught my eye as he started to curse. “Don’t let her do anything stupid.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, like I was ever able to control Mavis Pope.”

  Something in Murphy’s eyes hardened at that name, and his face closed down.

  I fell into step beside Mavis after giving Murphy a questioning look.

  “Why does he hate you so much?” I asked. “Because, I swear, I was getting vibes of him really being into you. While on the other hand, he hated that he was really into you.”

  Mavis looked at me. “You don’t remember Murphy, do you?”

  I frowned. “I guess not. Why? What am I missing?”

  “Do you remember Alessio Romano?” she asked.

  The moment she said Alessio’s name, I was taken back to a little boy that lived on our property with his mother. His mother was a maid at my grandmother’s estate. She lived in her own little small house at the back of the property, and every once in a while, I would see Alessio, her son, running around the back part of our property.

  Until my grandmother asked them to leave because Alessio’s mother ‘couldn’t control her son.’

  “They lived on Grandmother’s property. In the old carriage house at the very back. Grandmother fired her because Alessio kept coming onto the main part of the property,” I recalled grimly.

  “Alessio is Murphy.” She dropped that bombshell.

  I opened my mouth, then closed it.

  “What?” I gasped.

  “Yep, and he hates me because when they were kicked out of Grandmother’s house, they had to live out of their car for almost a month before his mother was able to find more work.” She shook her head. “I fucking hate our grandmother.”

  Speaking of our grandmother…

  “She called me today while I was in bed with Taos. I ignored it, and she’s called me every fifteen minutes since.” I pulled out my phone and showed her all of the missed calls. “She hasn’t stopped.”

  “She won’t stop until you answer.” Mavis snickered.

  She was right. My grandmother thought she was above all the most important person in the world. If the President of the United States, the Queen of England, and God himself were in the same room, my grandmother would expect to be served lunch first.

  She was that selfish.

  Mavis pulled to a stop outside of an apartment building and parked.

  I frowned hard at the location.

  It was one of the nicer places in town. An apartment complex that was newly built, had state-of-the-art security, and was so hard to get into that there was a year-long waiting list.

  “Why are we here?” I asked finally.

  “This is where Heather Trudell lives.” She paused. “The reporter who thought she would be funny by plastering your name and face all over the newspaper.”

  My brows rose. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she snarled then got out.

  That was when I realized why she’d asked Murphy how to take a driveshaft out.

  Because, over the next ten minutes, Mavis grunted and grumbled as she did just that.

  I sat in the back of the van, watching the newest Hotel Transylvania with Vlad, and tried not to think about how many laws we were breaking.

  And, of course, like clockwork, the cops showed.

  I reached over and closed the van door, hoping beyond hope that they wouldn’t notice me sitting back here.

  My luck didn’t hold out.

  CHAPTER 21

  You suck less than most people.

  -Taos to Madden

  TAOS

  “I’m sorry, but can you repeat that? I don’t think I heard you correctly.” I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose.

  I was knee-deep in serial killer bullshit when I got the call from an officer that I’d met only a few times before.

  “We have your girlfriend here with a baby and that baby’s mother. They say they know you,” Officer Shane explained again.

  I sighed. “Where is here? And what did they do?”

  I had no clue that Fran had it in her, honestly.

  “Fran didn’t actually do anything,” Shane explained. “It was the sister. They were asked to leave. The sister refused until she could finish taking a driveshaft out of a car. Then she loaded it into her van, locked the doors, then we took them all in. Her van’s been towed by Murphy’s Garage, and I don’t know what to do with them.”

  I had no clue what to say to that, to be honest.

  “You never said where they are,” I grumbled.

  “Well…” Shane hesitated. “We’re at the police station because Heather Trudell wanted to press charges.”

  I groaned at the reporter’s name.

  “I’m here,” I grumbled as I stood up.

  Schultz, Easton and the chief all followed me outside, having heard quite a bit of the conversation since about halfway through, I’d put it on speaker for them to hear.

  The chief was laughing quietly as he followed behind.

  I, on the other hand, didn’t find it nearly as funny.

  Mostly because I knew without a shadow of a doubt that it hadn’t been Fran’s idea.

  It’d likely been Mavis’s.

  I found out exactly whose idea it was two seconds later when I arrived outside to hear Murphy yelling at Mavis.

  “You have a fucking kid, Mavis. You can’t just go getting arrested and expect to keep your job,” Murphy growled.

  “Well,” Mavis snarled right back. “I was just having my sister’s back. Since, you know, that fucking whore right there,” she pointed at Heather Trudell, “decided to plaster my sister�
��s face, her goddamn home address, and her motherfuckin’ business in the damn paper all because she’s a little twat who thinks that she can ruin people’s lives! And, let’s not forget, it’s not going to just annoy her. It’s got Fran’s freakin’ head on a platter sitting directly in front of a serial killer that’s killing people that look exactly like her!”

  “Fuck,” I hissed.

  Fran’s eyes turned to me, and I realized my mistake. I’d been kicking the clues around in my head and trying to put my finger on the connection between all of the women. The part that I couldn’t quite lock onto fell into place.

  Every single one of the deceased women of this serial killer did, in fact, look exactly like Fran. Not in skin color or hair color, but in eye color, bone structure—all small, compact, and athletic looking—and each had very curly hair. The type of curly hair that required some sort of taming stuff be put in their hair or it’d go wild.

  I looked at Fran, then looked at Schultz, followed by Easton, who were tilting their heads in understanding.

  “Who does your hair, Fran?” I asked, a thought occurring to me.

  “Umm,” she hesitated. “A new girl in town. She specializes in hair like mine. Actually, she owns a traveling hair salon. She services three states. Makes a shit ton of money doing it, too.”

  My mind locked onto the link like it was wildfire, all the tiny little pieces adding up until only one thought occurred.

  “What’s her name?” I wondered.

  “Why do you need to know her name?” Heather asked.

  Mavis whipped her head around and glared. “Why the fuck are you here?”

  “I want to make sure that you’re penalized for vandalizing my car,” Heather snarled. “I have to take that to a dealership in Austin now because they’re the only ones that service them!”

  Murphy snorted. “Bring it to my shop and I’ll get it fixed for you in an hour.”

  “I’m not bringing it to a shop that has the likes of you working it.” She rolled her eyes.

  “I’ll have you know that Murphy’s shop is a pristine business. The only thing that could make it even remotely bad is to have your taint, both figuratively and literally, walking into its doors,” Mavis sneered.

  “Is that really a way to talk around your son?” she asked. “Who is the father, anyway? Him? Is that why y’all hate each other? Because you got pregnant on purpose?”

  She gave Murphy a pitying look, as if she felt sorry for him.

  Murphy narrowed his eyes, however, and said, “I’ll pay for any damages that incurred. And I’ll fix it for free.”

  “Whatever. Protect the little bitch. It’s not like you have any taste, obviously,” Heather hissed. “Now, back to this…” She waved her hand at me, but Vlad started to cry, catching her attention. “Can’t you get that thing to shut up?”

  Francine’s back stiffened, and before any of us could move, Mavis shot forward and planted her fist right into Heather’s nose.

  Heather dropped like a freakin’ weighted-down barbell. Hit the ground with a resounding clang, and then went still.

  “Who the hell taught you to throw a punch?” Schultz asked as he walked over to where Heather was down on the ground and stared at her.

  Mavis shook out her hand and hissed. “Murphy did. When we were twelve.”

  My brows went up at Murphy. Murphy shrugged.

  Apparently, answering me wasn’t going to be something he did today.

  “I don’t even know what to say,” Chief Wilkerson groaned. “This is a massive shitterfuck.”

  “What is a shitterfuck?” Mavis asked Murphy as she shook out her hand.

  Murphy gently wrapped his hand around Mavis’s and brought her closer to him. “Get your kid and let’s go.”

  Fran handed Vlad over and the three of them left without a backward glance.

  Chief Wilkerson didn’t even stop them.

  Heather woke up and groaned. “I want to file charges!”

  Fran walked over and then leaned over her. “No judge is going to begrudge me a hit when you put me in the line of sight of a serial killer.”

  “You didn’t hit me. Your sister did!” she whined, pressing her hands to her nose. “I could’ve choked on my own blood.”

  “I hit you,” Fran lied. “And I’m a nurse. I would’ve known if you were in peril.”

  “You were fired from the hospital for a medication error that almost killed someone,” Heather said, pressing her hands to her nose as she rolled over and stood in the next instant.

  “Actually,” a cultured, distinguished voice said from the front doors. “She wasn’t fired. She left. And it was found out later that another nurse was responsible for that medication draw up. Not only was Francine given the medication to administer, but it was also double-checked by another nurse before it was given to my granddaughter to administer. Now, let’s discuss how you put my Francine in the crosshairs of a serial killer because you were upset with the officers for blowing you off.”

  Fran stiffened.

  I looked to the door to see an elderly woman making her way inside.

  She was dressed immaculately and looked as if she were stepping out to meet with the Queen of England, and not into the Paris police station.

  Pearl Pope.

  Francine stepped back until she was hidden behind me, and I would’ve laughed had Pearl Pope’s eyes not caught on the movement.

  Her eyes were like sharply-honed laser beams.

  “Francine Pope,” Pearl snapped, “I’ve been calling you all day long.”

  Heather started to snicker.

  Which was the worst mistake ever.

  “Heather Trudell,” Pearl enunciated perfectly. “I need some privacy, since it’s more than obvious that you can’t keep anything to yourself.”

  “Burn,” Schultz whispered under his breath.

  Pearl’s eyes went to him. “Mr. Schultz. Please escort her out. And remind her, that if she wants to press charges against a Pope, she better have a damn good lawyer. I have the money to blow. She does not.” Pearl’s eyes went to Heather.

  Schultz jumped to do just that, helping Heather out the door a moment later. Heather who, surprisingly, was very quiet and meek as she left, which was quite unusual for her. Every time I’d met her, she’d been abrasive, nosy, and wouldn’t give up for anything. Like a dog with a bone and a scent, she wouldn’t ever give up.

  “Whatever you do,” Francine whispered behind me so quietly that I could barely hear. “Don’t tell her that you…”

  Whatever she was about to say was cut off when Pearl’s eyes snapped to me. “You.”

  I blinked. “Yes?”

  “You are not good enough to carry the Pope name. You will at once stop seeing my granddaughter,” Pearl ordered harshly.

  I blinked. “What? Why would I carry the Pope name?”

  “Because, it’s tradition. If a man marries a Pope, the man takes the Pope name,” Pearl informed me.

  I would’ve laughed had she not been completely, one-hundred-percent serious.

  “I’m sorry.” I paused. “But I do have my balls. Would you like to see them?”

  Fran pinched me.

  I would’ve laughed had I not thought it would set the old woman off.

  Pearl’s eyes were already narrowed on mine. “Like I told Heather Trudell,” she hissed. “I have the money to fight anything you lay at our feet. If my granddaughter makes the mistake of marrying you, and I know that she will because you have a really pretty face, I’ll be here to fix that mistake when she realizes that she made one.”

  God, Fran and Mavis were right. Their grandmother was a bitch. No wonder Fran hadn’t mentioned meeting her. She was nothing like my own grandmother, who would’ve done absolutely anything to make my life exactly like I wanted it.

  No wonder she avoided the hell out of her. And, just sayin’, but if the woman had been calling me all day long, you bet your ass I would’ve ignored those calls, too.

  “If I
say or do anything to protect you, she’ll hone in on that as a weakness and make it worse. If I stay back here and act meek, she’ll eventually leave in a huff because I’m ignoring her. I love you,” she whispered.

  Those words, whispered against my back, made me feel like I could take on the world.

  And, possibly, even Pearl Pope.

  “When we have kids,” I said to Pearl, gathering Fran closer to my back so that she was pressed as tight as she could be. “They won’t see you.”

  Pearl’s eyes narrowed. “Think again, young man.”

  “And when we get married, you won’t be invited to the wedding,” I continued.

  Pearl’s spine snapped even straighter than she’d held it previously.

  “I have to be there, or it’ll look poorly on me,” she hissed. “Even if I don’t agree with the relationship between you two.”

  I snorted. “We’ll be going to Vegas for a shotgun marriage in a few weeks. She’s pregnant, and I can’t have her showing before she has my name.”

  Pearl’s mouth dropped open. “Francine!”

  I could feel Fran giggling against my back.

  Easton shifted from foot to foot, either tired of what he was hearing, or frustrated with the woman in front of us.

  Chief Wilkerson was like a silent sentinel at my side.

  And let’s not forget all the other people that were now listening behind us and at our sides that’d come in off of shift, or were about to go out on shift.

  “Now, let me focus on my job,” I told Pearl. “You know, that pesky serial killer that’s floating around out there with your granddaughter’s name in the forefront of his mind?”

  Pearl hissed out a breath. “This isn’t over, Francine Pope. We will be discussing this.”

  With those final words, Pearl swept out of the police station in a dignified huff.

  The moment the doors closed behind her, Chief Wilkerson said, “I guess congratulations are in order?”

  Francine lost it then. “I swear to God. I’m really a nice person, but she makes it so hard for me to continue being a law-abiding citizen.”

  Chief snorted and clapped her on the back. “We’ll give y’all a few minutes.”

  I understood that for the order that it was.