by Gina LaManna
I stood up from the table and pretended to wash my hands as Anthony took the call, speaking softly in Italian. The words rolled off his tongue. He sounded so fluid, so sing-song when he spoke his native language. It was the bitter opposite to his often short, often fragmented English sentences.
“They’ve found the warehouse,” Anthony said as I shut the water off.
“Really? The one stockpiled with the firearms?” I asked. “Dang it. Fireworks. Fire-works.”
“They believe so. From the looks on the outside and the information they’ve been able to pull from a few sources, including the guy who owns the warehouse, there’s some shady business happening.”
“Let’s go check it out,” I said. “It would be fantastic if we could just march in there and capture the guy. Can you imagine bringing him back to Carlos in such a short time?”
“Not so fast,” Anthony said. “We need to be careful. I’ve instructed my men not to go inside yet. We don’t know how much firepower this man has – or whether he’s already started building bombs or not. For all we know, the whole place is wired to blow up at any sign of forced entry.”
“Or, maybe we’ve caught him so early that he hasn’t had time to unpack any of the fireworks yet. Just think, Anthony – we could catch him before he does anything bad. Wash our hands of this whole thing and go look for the sauce.”
“You’re not going into the warehouse right now.” Anthony leaned back in his chair, one eyebrow heading north.
“Why?” I sensed a bit of whininess in my voice. “I don’t see why not.”
“I told you, the place could be rigged to explode. I would like to watch fireworks with you, not watch you go up in fireworks.”
“Aww,” I leaned in. “You want to watch fireworks with me?”
Anthony pushed his chair back with a jerk and walked towards the front door of my apartment.
“Say, do they have fireworks at this barbecue?” I grinned. “I bet Carlos could put out a good spread of the whirly twirlies. You know, maybe we could steal one or two fireworks that haven’t been disassembled and light them for fun at the barbecue. Nora would love it.”
“No.” Anthony twisted the door handle, and I was reminded he hadn’t needed a key to get in. Though it was sometimes annoying to find him lurking around my place, knowing that no deadbolt would be enough to keep him out, today I was lucky he was a ninja. Otherwise, I’d still be stuck in that silly desk contraption.
“Oh, you’re no fun,” I said with a fake pout. “Where are you going now, then?”
“I’m going to supervise my men,” he said, turning with one foot out the door.
“Supervise what? I should probably come. We are working on this case together, after all,” I reminded him.
“Yes. We will be working on it once my bomb squad calls the all clear on the warehouse. Later this afternoon, maybe. Don’t you have something you can do in the meantime?”
“Yeah, actually. Follow you and help supervise the bomb squad. We’re a team,” I said. “There’s no I in team.”
“But there’s a ‘me’ in team,” Anthony said. “And not a you. So, no.”
“Ugh,” I crossed my arms. “You are one of the worst partners out there.”
“Sugar, even I’m not going to watch my squad check out the warehouse. That is how a team works. I hired professionals, and I trust them to do their job. A good leader knows when to delegate.” Anthony took a step forward, one of his hands creeping up to my shoulder and squeezing it tightly, then sliding it to the nape of my neck. I thought he just might kiss me.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I take it back. You’re not such a bad partner, and I was wrong. I’m just antsy. Carlos kind of sprang this on me last minute, and I want to get it taken care of before the barbecue. Especially if peoples’ lives are going to be in danger.”
“Don’t worry, doll. You’re doing excellent work.” He placed his other hand on the side of my face, lightly brushing his thumb across my cheekbone. “In the meantime, keep yourself busy. What’s on your agenda this afternoon? If you need a distraction...”
I sighed so hard I whistled through my teeth as Anthony took a step closer to me, his hot breath tickling my neck. As usual, he smelled minty with a twist of lemon, his breath clean and his cologne crisp. It was an intoxicating combination.
“I, uh, you know what? I have a distraction already,” I mumbled.
My stud-in-crime grinned. “Is that right?”
“Sauce,” I gurgled. I wasn’t sure what was happening to my brain, but something wasn’t connecting the “appropriate thought” section of my mind to my mouth. The wiring was all messed up, and the words coming from my lips bypassed any filters I’d once had.
“Getting sauced?” Anthony asked, his eyes smiling despite his stern lips. “Like I said, I can help.”
I cleared my throat. “Carlos asked me to bring a special sauce to the barbecue. More specifically, Dave’s Special Sauce. Apparently, the guy is some hippie that lives an hour away in the boonies.” I threw my arms up. “Get this! His stand isn’t even on Google Maps.”
“Shame on Google,” Anthony said, his eyes still twinkling.
“Clay said you gave him the address,” I said. “Do you know anywhere else I can find this special sauce?”
“Unfortunately not,” Anthony said. “Consider this assignment a rite of passage. Everyone’s had to go out to Dave’s stand and pick up the sauce.”
“Wait. If you know where it is, why don’t you come with me?” I asked, my excitement seeping into the question. Maybe he’d come with me, and then we’d be able to go together to the warehouse. We could kill two birds with one stone.
“Sugar, I’m not everyone. I’ve never actually gone to get the sauce. I’ve just heard about it, and I know the address. I’m sorry, I can’t go anyway. I have to be close in case my men need me.”
“Okay, never mind,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment.
“Do you have directions?” he asked. “I’d like to know where you’re headed, before you go gallivanting off the map.”
“It’s here,” I said, taking out the map Clay’s friend had entrusted to my care. “Horatio gave us instructions on how to get there.”
Anthony looked skeptical as soon as I said Horatio.
“Believe me, I think it’s weird too,” I said. “His real name is Henry. It doesn’t make sense.”
“This looks to be in order,” Anthony said. “I know this area. According to Horatio’s markings on the map, Dave’s shack is impossible to miss. If you go now, you’ll be able to make it back before sundown. And if you make it back before sundown—”
“We can go check out the warehouse?” I clapped my hands. I’d been so hopeless moments before, but now, I was nearly giddy. We could have this thing cracked in no time. Which would then leave me plenty of time to consume many glasses of wine on my birthday, and have no bigger concern in the world than showing up to the Fourth of July barbecue with a bit of a hangover.
“If it checks out clear with my men,” Anthony said. “No promises.”
“Right. No promises.” I winked. “But I’m game for sneaking in and breaking rules.”
“No promises,” Anthony reiterated.
“I’m calling Meg,” I said. “I need backup, and you won’t come with me.”
“Are you picking her up?” Anthony asked.
“Nah, I wanna see if she’ll drive. I’m running low on gas, and I don’t get paid ‘til this job is complete.”
“I’ll give you a ride to the bar.” Anthony nodded his head toward the front of my apartment.
I was incredibly tempted. There were two choices waiting for me outside: a beat up, sad Chevy Lumina that belonged in the boat family instead of the car family, and a fancy Lamborghini that came complete with a sexy driver.
“I’ll take the ride,” I said. Easy choice.
** **
“Why do you have a gun in your cup holder?” I asked, sliding into the pas
senger’s seat.
Anthony slid into the driver’s side of his expensive car, glancing at the shiny black hunk of metal sitting in the small space normally reserved for 7-11 sugar bomb coffees. “No reason.”
I sensed he was lying, but I didn’t bother to press him on the subject. If he kept secrets about a mission we were supposed to be working on together, I didn’t hold much hope that he’d divulge aspects of jobs I wasn’t involved with.
Anthony revved the car, the engine throaty as it fired up. I might have been mistaken, but there was a chance flames shot from the exhaust.
“Why do you drive this thing?” I asked. “You don’t seem like a Lamborghini driver.”
Anthony pulled away from the curb, shifting back into his seat. I glanced over, noting he didn’t look entirely comfortable in the car. He looked good behind the wheel, don’t get me wrong. His dark hair glinted in the afternoon sunlight and a smirk toyed with his lips.
“I’m not a Lambo driver,” he said simply, making a left onto the freeway. He barely flicked his eyes towards me, instead focusing on the road.
“Well, what are you?” I asked.
He took his attentive gaze off the road for one second to glance my way. “What do you think?”
I shrugged, trying to pretend that his slight glance in my direction hadn’t warmed me to the core. “I’m not good with cars.”
“No guesses?” he asked.
“A black car,” I said with a smile. “A really, really shiny one with bulletproof glass and flames up the side and guns instead of headlights.”
Anthony barked laughter. “I’ll give Tony Stark a call and see if he can hook me up.”
“What about me?” I laughed. “I want an Iron Man car, too.”
“If you were a car…” Anthony reached over and grasped my chin between his hands. With a gentleness I didn’t expect, he tilted my face towards him. Alternating between driving straight on the Minneapolis freeway and scanning my features with an intensity that made me squirm, he pursed his lips in thought. “Mazda Miata.”
“Which one is that?” I asked, still trembling lightly from his touch. Anthony was quite possibly the safest driver I knew, so it was out of character for him to have taken his eyes off the road for so long. Not that I knew a bunch of safe drivers. Neither Meg nor Clay were particularly attentive behind the wheel.
“You’d be a bright violet one. It’s a zippy little convertible. It’s got a bit of flash and a lot of fun. It’s cute and girly, but it knows how to handle itself on the racetrack.” Anthony winked in my direction. “Best of all, it looks great topless.”
“Hardy har,” I said, Googling the image on my phone. The convertible popped up, and I wasn’t entirely displeased with Anthony’s assessment.
“But most of all,” he said, watching my face as I browsed the various shades of Miatas, “it’s feisty and has a zest for life that not even hard core car enthusiasts can deny.”
In my head, I wondered if we were still talking about cars. But I said nothing as he exited the highway and turned down the side street that would take us to Meg’s bar. I was still glowing from his explanation.
“I have a car,” Anthony said. “One not sanctioned by Carlos.”
“Ah,” I said, everything making sense. This car didn’t necessarily belong to Carlos per se, but it was like my grandfather to keep up appearances, and suggesting that his head of security drive a Lamborghini around town sent a definite message to anyone watching. “What would that car be?”
“Audi S8,” he said, stopping the Lambo in the middle of the street.
“Why that car?” I turned to face him. “You can park, you know.”
Anthony looked with a disenchanted expression at the one tiny slot available at a meter.
“I have places to be,” he said.
“Are you sure you’re not scared of parallel parking?” I joked, leaning towards him.
For a moment, an expression almost like guilt crossed his eyes, but it disappeared before I could say anything. A car honked behind us, signaling the traffic hold up. I felt the need to get out of the car, but I also wanted to hear Anthony’s answer.
“Listen,” he said, catching the back of my neck in his palm as I unbuckled my seat belt.
My eyes looked up to his, startled at the abrupt change in his demeanor.
“Don’t get yourself into any trouble out there today.” Anthony was so close that his breath skimmed over my cheeks. “Take Meg with you and be smart. Be safe. If I don’t hear from you by sunset, I’m coming after you.”
I winked. “Is that a bad thing?”
Anthony blinked, caught off guard by my brash change of subject. His features relaxed while his grip on my neck remained strong, the space between us thin as a blade of grass. The corners of his lips perked up. “That depends.”
On what? That’s what I wanted to ask. But the words never reached my mouth because Anthony pressed his lips to mine, taking his sweet time with the embrace. A louder, longer car horn sounded behind us, but my urge to get out of the car had all but disappeared. Just as I pressed in for more, he pulled back and I nearly toppled head first into his lap. The seatbelt flew up as I fell on the release button and it retracted violently, smacking my hand on the way to its holster. I was left a stuttering mess as he gave a nod to the car door.
“Uh, um. I forgot the question,” I mumbled.
Anthony’s grin could’ve parted a thundercloud it was so bright. “I didn’t ask one.”
Before I could embarrass myself further, I gave a quick nod and pulled the handle to the door open. I waved at the annoyed lineup of cars behind me and didn’t bother to look too closely which finger the man in the huge truck behind us waved in my direction.
** **
“There she is,” Meg said to a small crowd of bar patrons clustered around her. “I could feel the heat all the way from in here. Did it happen yet?”
“What heat? Did what happen?” I’d barely cracked open the door to Shotz, Meg’s Uptown bar, before she called across the room to me.
The place was dimly lit with wooden tables spaced just far enough apart to provide an intimate setting for conversations that were better left private. The floor was just sticky enough to give the bar a casual vibe, and between the strong drinks and friendly staff, it had quickly become a neighborhood favorite.
“What can I getcha, chickadee?” Meg asked.
“I’m okay,” I said, taking quick strides over towards the bar area. The customers dispersed quietly and found seats far enough away to be respectful. “Are you busy?”
“I’m always busy,” she said, pushing forward a glass of dark colored liquid. “And I don’t believe you when you say you ain’t thirsty. What can I get you?”
“The doctor said I should take it easy,” I said, climbing onto a stool and swiveling around once before facing my friend. “Plus, I have an errand to run.”
Meg cast a gaze up and down the bar at the tone of my lowered voice and leaned in, running her fingers very squeakily around the rim of her lowball glass. “What sort of errand?”
“The assignment variety,” I clarified, my eyes narrowed. “Interested?”
“Julio?” Meg asked, without taking her eyes off me. “Julio!”
I shook my head as the other patrons glanced towards us to see what the disturbance was. Julio, a smallish guy who helped Meg man the bar, appeared from the back room. I knew that there was a television there as well as all the beverages one could hope for. Julio looked annoyed at being disturbed.
“Julio, watch the bar for me,” Meg said. “I gotta run an errand.”
“Please,” I added. “And thanks.”
The staff at Shotz was small. Meg, being a large and in-charge sort of woman, had actually decreased the number of bouncers since she’d taken over the space. Julio was a trusty friend that covered for Meg’s frequent disappearances.
“No problem. But I have a date tonight,” he said, his dark eyes locked on mine. “Have Meg
back by eight, or I’m leaving anyway.”
“No one would rob this place,” Meg said with a huff. “It’s got a reputation these days.”
Julio opened his mouth as if to tell Meg exactly what he thought of the reputation she’d built, but I grabbed Meg’s hand and dragged her around the bar before things turned into a cat-fight. “I’ll have her back by 7:30,” I said. “Where are you taking your date?”
Meg gave a snort as she joined me on the other side of the bar. “Where does he always take his dates?”
Julio shrugged. “It’s not my fault you don’t pay me enough to take them to a real fancy place.”
I looked between them, but Julio’s tone was teasing and it was clear Meg both liked and trusted her friend. “I pay you plenty,” Meg said. “Just not plenty to take four dates a week out to the fanciest place in the Cities.”
“Where do you go?” I asked, still pulling Meg towards the door.
“Right here,” Meg said pointing. “That table in the corner.”
“I like making her serve me,” Julio said with a wink. “Have fun, ladies. I’ll see you tonight.”
Outside the bar, Meg turned to look at me. “Where we going?”
“Stillwater,” I said, glancing around for Meg’s vehicle. “I’ll explain in the car.”
“Great.” She looked at me with a confused smile. “Which car?”
“Where’s yours?” I asked. “I thought we could take it. I promise I’ll give you double the gas money,” I said quickly at Meg’s raised eyebrow.
“I don’t feel like taking my car,” Meg said. “I feel like taking my bike.”
I groaned. “I don’t really feel like taking the bike. What if we need to carry something back?”
“Well, since I don’t know where we’re going, I don’t know what on earth we’d need to take back.”
I pulled Meg into the alley behind her beloved bar. “Okay, I’ll explain here.” I glanced around, but nobody had followed us into the alley. A kitty prowled the outskirts of the place, but disappeared at the sound of our footsteps.
“We’re alone,” Meg said. “I keep tight security at my bar.”
I didn’t comment on the fact that Meg was the security at the bar, and instead set to explaining. “After you left this morning, I got the assignment from Carlos. Actually, I got two assignments.”
