I said nothing. He was right. I was a constant blur of motion. Trying to fill up holes I couldn’t define.
“There is strength in stillness and order. Protocol exists for a reason. Staying centered and uninvolved means you live to see another day,” Steve said pulling out another file.
“I know all that,” I insisted. God, if I lost this job I had nothing. Less than nothing.
“Intellectually, maybe,” he conceded. “But you’re a liability to me at the moment and you’re in no shape physically to go undercover.”
“So you’re firing me?”
“Hell no,” Steve chuckled. “You’re one of the best agents I have. Once you’ve healed and gotten your head back on straight, I’ll kick your ass and send you back out.”
I breathed a sigh of relief and my tense body went slack. Fuck, I thought my life was ending. In that moment I understood how much my work defined who I was. Whether that was good or bad I had no clue . . . it simply was. Certain that sharing my revelation with Steve would be a bad thing, I kept my mouth shut. Difficult, as there was a silence I was tempted to fill.
“So what am I supposed to do?” I asked myself as well as my boss.
“Do you want to go to your parents?”
“God no,” I shouted and then slapped a hand over my mouth.
Steve’s eyes narrowed and he waited. He knew my parents. He knew my brother. Hell, my brother Mitch had been one of his best agents until he fell in luuurrve and got out to become a plain old boring cop.
“If my mom knew about my stomach, she’d lock me in the house and go into a deep depression. I’m twenty-nine and I will not go back,” I snapped.
“A family that loves you is not the worst thing in the world,” Steve said in his fatherly tone. I hated the fatherly tone.
“Yeah, well, a family that disapproves of what I do isn’t going to be too excited about a knife wound in my belly. Just sayin’.” I grabbed the silly romance novel and changed the subject. “You read this crap?”
“No, Kevin does,” he laughed.
Kevin, Steve’s partner, was every bit as good looking as Steve. Many straight women had shed real tears upon learning the two men were gay and happily committed. Where Steve was intense and brooding, Kevin was light and joy. They were wonderful parents to Steve’s kids; far better than his religious zealot ex-wife, Helen.
“Well, these books are ridiculous. Happily ever after’s don’t exist,” I snorted.
Steve shook his head sadly. “Ah, you have much to learn, Candy.”
“Give me a break,” I snorted.
“Exactly my plan. You’re going on light duty until the doctors and I deem you ready for the field again.” He opened the folder in his hand and skimmed the contents.
“Light duty? You’re kidding me. Do you want me to file and answer phones?” I asked sarcastically.
“Nope,” he grinned. “I’d like to keep my business. Your social skills leave much to be desired.”
“Social skills are for civilians and fucktards,” I snapped, unfortunately proving his point.
Steve cocked his head to the side and waited for me to bury myself deeper. I was a loose cannon, but I wasn’t stupid. I stayed quiet. Difficult, but possible.
“God help the man who tries to tame you,” he laughed and removed several sheets from the folder.
“No man will ever tame me,” I told him confidently. “Romance is for sissies.”
“How exactly should I take that? As a slur to my manhood or my sexual preference?” he asked, eyebrows raised.
“No, I . . . shit. Um, I meant that it’s, you know . . .” I mumbled and felt the heat crawl up my neck.
“Candy, you’re missing out on a few things in life. Like a life mainly. I want you to take this light duty time to ease up and live a little. Have some fun for God’s sake.”
I had no freakin’ clue what he was talking about. A life? I had a life. I saved lives. And I had fun. I, um enjoyed tons of things, like . . . Whatever. This was ridiculous.
“Just give me my pansy-ass light duty assignment and let me get back to work.”
Steve observed me critically for a moment, then went from father mode back to boss mode. “Fine. A dear friend of mine has received some threats on her life. I’m fairly sure they’re innocuous, but Kevin is freaked out and wants protection for her.”
“You want me to find and eliminate the threats?” I asked, my expression hopeful. Maybe light duty wouldn’t suck as much as I thought.
“Not exactly,” he said, folding the papers in his hands and placing them inside the romance novel I’d just made fun of. “I want you on her and watching for trouble.”
“You want me to be a bodyguard?” I gasped, unable to hide my shock and dismay. I was an undercover agent for shit’s sake. Not a rent-a-cop babysitter.
“Yep,” Steve said ignoring my stinky attitude. “Sue is a professor and an author. She’s scheduled to headline an author’s convention in a week and I want you on her. Innocuous or not, a threat is a threat.” He handed me the book with a smile.
“Wait, I have to guard a woman named Sue who writes trashy romance novels because someone may or may not want a piece of her?”
“That sounds about right,” he said. “On, and she goes by Shoshanna. Shoshanna Lehump.”
I waited for the punch line, but it didn’t come. Who in the hell would go by the name Shoshanna LeHump? She sounded like a stripper.
“You’re serious,” I said pinching my thighs to keep from laughing just in case he was.
“As a heart attack. Shoshanna married Kevin after her husband died so he could get his green card. They divorced when we met. Shoshanna actually officiated our wedding ceremony. You remember, the one you were invited to, but couldn’t come because you were recovering from being shot in the ass.”
That was a low blow. I hadn’t been shot in the ass by anyone. It was actually quite big of Steve to state it that way. I had shot myself in the ass. I’d been testing a new firearm. The gun had been faulty and the safety was put on backward. Hence, when I put it in my back pocket it went off and I shot myself in the ass.
“I’m a little confused,” I said ignoring his comment about my ass debacle.
“In a round about way, Kevin and I met because of Shoshanna. We owe her.”
“She introduced you guys while she was married to Kevin?”
“No, no,” Steve laughed. “But that does sound like something she would do. She’s our angel because if she hadn’t married Kevin, he would have been deported and we never would have met. She’s the reason my life is full.”
I was so tempted to roll my eyes, but I loved Kevin. And I loved Steve. And they loved each other. Hell, Steve sounded just like my pussy-whipped brother Mitch. He fell in love with Kristy when we were all on a bizarro drug bust that involved Bigfoot. Kristy had nothing to do with the crimes. She was with a crew of loonies searching for Bigfoot and was unknowingly the cover for a nasty drug cartel. At first I didn’t like her, but she proved herself in the end. Of course, it also helped that she didn’t really believe in Bigfoot.
“So what’s with the trashy novel?” I asked as he handed it over.
“Shoshanna wrote it. I would suggest you read it so you get a feel for her. Inside I’ve put a list of potential suspects. You can question them this week before you leave for Wisconsin.”
I looked the list over. Several professors at the U where this Shoshanna gal worked seemed to have rather large issues with either her success as an author or her subject matter. Some old woman named Evangeline O’Hara, who had been blackmailing Shoshanna for stories for what looked like twenty years was also on the list.
“Holy shit,” I muttered. “Here’s your threat. The O’Hara woman has a motive like I’ve never seen.”
“I’d tend to agree if she wasn’t still in jail,” Steve said. “Her calls and mail are monitored.”
“I’ll interview her.”
“Absolutely and the professors at the U
. Sue’s one of the foremost profs of Women’s Studies and these jackoffs are trying to get her tenure removed.”
“Jealousy?”
“Possibly. More likely closed minded bigotry towards her subject matter.”
“Women’s Studies?” I asked, surprised. “What are they? Dinosaurs ?”
“Not what she teaches, what she writes,” he corrected my misas-sumption.
“What in the hell does she write? Porno?” I laughed.
“Some might refer to it as porno, but it’s technically classified as erotic romance,” Steve said logically.
Again I waited for the punch line. Again it didn’t come.
“So, um . . . is there anything in the University’s by-laws that make her, um . . . sex books negate her contract?” I asked. I almost said fuck books. Thank you God that that one hadn’t slipped.
“It’s somewhat vague, but Shoshanna’s lawyers are convinced she’d win and most of the board is backing her,” he said. “But it’s unpleasant and drawing unwanted attention to the University. The longer it goes on the more precarious her position is.”
“I don’t get it. She would win in court. What’s the biggie?”
“The biggie,” Steve smiled at my choice of word, “is that Shoshanna loves the University and would leave before she caused too much trouble and bad press. It would be a sad day for her, the students and academia if that were to happen.”
“Why would someone hurt her then? Wouldn’t it be smarter to just draw it out till she leaves on her own recognizance?”
“Yes and no,” Steve said. “She’s up for several prestigious awards and two of the suspects in particular are up for the same award. I don’t really get it, but apparently in the world of academia the more papers with stars on it you get the more important you seem to be in that strange sub-culture.”
“You think someone would kill or hurt her for that?” I asked memorizing the names for later.
“Doubtful, but I’ve seen stranger.” Steve handed me a card.
“Here’s Shoshanna’s address. You’re expected at dinner tomorrow night. Kevin and I will be there as well as your brother, Kristy, Rena and Jack.”
That sounded like hell to me. To be stuck in a room with a porno writer and three sickeningly in-love couples would be enough to make me tear my own head off. My brother and his fiancé, Kristy, were bad enough, but Rena and Jack, their best friends were down right nauseating.
“I don’t think I can make that,” I hedged, racking my brain for a good excuse.
“You have plans? Cancel them. This is work related and you need to have a good time occasionally.”
“I have a date,” I blurted out, my mouth way ahead of my brain.
“Bring him,” Steve said, waiting for me to cop to lying.
“Well, um . . . David is a little weird and I’d, you know . . . rather not subject him to my brother before I know if he really, um . . . you know.”
“What does this David do?” he asked.
“I think he’s a . . . banker.”
“I see,” Steve said, seeing entirely too much.
“Fine,” I huffed, pissed at myself for lying and pissed at Steve for making me. “I’ll come. Is Kevin cooking?”
“You bet.” He smiled his first real smile of the meeting. “Shoshanna can’t boil water and Kevin still cooks for her a couple of nights a week.”
“Oh shit,” I muttered. “What about the cartel that wants my ass?”
“Taken care of. Sent two agents to Mexico and ended it.”
Fuck. I hated that. I hated that two people had to risk their lives to cover my fuck up. Maybe Steve was right. I needed to get my head on straight.
“Are they okay?” I asked.
“Yep. Got back today. Hell of a ride. Been down there three months.”
Three months? “Can I thank them?”
“Nope. These guys are deep cover. They don’t exist in any database. Not going to screw with that. Just know it’s taken care of.”
“Right,” I said, more furious than ever with myself. My vengeance against drug dealers had resulted in two of Steve’s hard core guys having to go to Mexico and clean up my mess. Not gonna happen again. Ever.
“It’s done Candy,” Steve said recognizing my frustration. “They’re back and fine, but it could have gone any way. I wasn’t planning on this, but shit happens. Remember that next time you want to go Rambo on a job.”
“You have my word,” I promised.
“Good. Now get out of my office. I have work to do. Oh, and by the way,” he smirked. “Blonde’s not your color. Stick with your natural brunette. It’s beautiful.”
“Yes Sir.” I gave him a mock salute and left. His chuckle followed me down the hall as I yanked the itchy blonde wig off my head and tossed it in the trash. I’d been living on luck and a prayer . . . and that stopped today.
Chapter 2
The private law enforcement gym was practically empty. It smelled a little musty and the equipment had seen better days, but I loved the place. I’d earned my black belt in karate in this very gym and felt a real sense of peace here that I sometimes had a hard time finding in my daily life. Steve’s implication that I had no life rankled—possibly because it might be true. I just wasn’t sure I was brave enough or cared enough to actually do anything about it.
Scanning the free weights, I settled on the lighter side. My healing knife wound kept me from a full workout, but I was getting stronger every day. My physical therapist was blown away by my progress. I was just pissed I wasn’t back to full form yet. I dropped my gym bag on the floor and grabbed some five pounders.
“What are you? A pussy?” an unfortunately familiar voice demanded.
Jesus Christ, who in the hell did I fuck over in a former life to have to keep running into the evil lesbian sisters?
“Nope, I had a little mishap at work and have to take it easy. What’s your excuse?” I asked eyeing her appalling choice of workout wear. Both Mrs. C and her sister, Edith, were somewhere in their sixties and tended to favor sequins. Even at the gym.
Edith clad in a shiny gold exercise top cackled and punched her sister in the arm. “Yeah, what’s your excuse, you old dyke?”
Mrs. C grunted and walloped her sister back. I idly wondered if they’d get into an all out brawl. At least they weren’t boring . . .
“Heard you got stabbed in the gut,” Mrs. C said while she simultaneously smacked her sister in the back of the head. Edith came right back and knocked her sister’s feet out from underneath her.
How in the fuck did they know that? “Well, that seems to be the rumor,” I muttered wondering how long I could take dealing with them before I did damage. Although, that would be an unwise choice on my part considering they had been in Vietnam, Special Forces . . . four tours. I was fairly sure only a few high placed government officials knew of their existence.
“Yep,” Edith crowed as she helped her sister back to her feet. “But rumor also has it that you put a dick-weed drug dealer six feet under.”
“How in the hell do you guys hear all this stuff?” I asked. The info was classified and didn’t hit the media in any way shape or form. “You two run a knitting store, for God’s sake.”
The just stood there and grinned. A smile pulled at my lips because they looked so ridiculous and they either had no clue or didn’t care. I’d met them on the same drug bust where my brother Mitch had met his fiancé Kristy. They were part of the certifiably insane group of nut jobs searching for Bigfoot. Turns out they were far more than poorly dressed lesbian Sasquatch enthusiasts . . . they helped save the day by booby trapping the trees with knitted snap traps.
“How is it that you lovely ladies are allowed to work out here?” I asked as I switched to twenty pound weights. I was no pussy. I was a dumb ass.
“Give me those goddamned things,” Edith snapped, yanking the weights from my hands. “You wanna reopen that wound?”
“No,” I huffed, annoyed that my pride had gotten t
he better of me.
“Anyhoo, we work out here because we’re doing some government contract work here and there and the fine city of Minneapolis has no choice but to let us hone our fine machines in their gym,” Mrs. C said, sliding slowly into the splits. Edith, not one to be outdone . . . joined her.
Had I entered an alternate universe? I was going to be a bodyguard for a smut writer and these two sparkling limber dingbats were picking off bad guys for the government when they weren’t manning a knitting store?
As I stared at them on the floor, I idly wondered if I could do the splits. Holy hell, I really did need a life.
“So,” Edith grunted, “heard you got quite the cushy assignment.”
“I would truly love to know where you get your info.”
“Not gonna happen.” She gave me a wink.
“Figures,” I muttered. I walked over to the treadmill and prayed our conversation was over.
“You are one lucky chickee,” Mrs. C said rolling out of the splits. “Edith here would give her left boob, it’s the bigger one, to go to the SCREW-Con.”
“I’m sorry, what the hell did you just say?” I asked, sure I’d heard her incorrectly.
“I said Edith’s left boob is bigger than her . . .”
“Not that part,” I snapped. “The other part.”
“The SCREW-Con.” She cackled at the look of horror on my face. “Society of Contemporary Romance Erotic Writers. Screw. You get it?”
“Yeah, I got it. Now quit fucking with me.” I blew out an exasperated sigh and waited for the punch line . . . and it never came.
“Sweet baby Jesus in assless chaps, you really didn’t know,” Edith yelled, enjoying my discomfort. I certainly wasn’t a prude, but I had no desire to go to a convention called SCREW.
“Clearly I didn’t.” I put my earbuds in, cranked up the volume on my iPod and turned on the treadmill. This conversation was done. If there was anything else to know, I didn’t want to know it. Despite the fact that Steve was my boss, I was going to rip him a new one for this. Being taken unaware by two sequin wearing lesbians with uneven boobs was not on my schedule today . . . and apparently being ignored wasn’t on theirs.
Size Matters (Handcuffs and Happily Ever Afters) Page 32
