Walker Texas Wife (The Book Cellar Mysteries 1)

by Melissa Storm

  Brooke was able to multitask by making calls through her car’s bluetooth as they drove to Nexus Nails in Austin. Sure, it was forty-five minutes away, but KiKi was a goddess when it came to nails, and Brooke happily worshiped at her ethyl acetate-scented alter. She’d have to schedule a primping session for everyone prior to the gala, too. Otherwise, she had no doubt both Vi and Annabeth would show up at the party looking like a couple of cheap Madonna wannabes—not at all what she had in mind for her spectacular event, or for the closest members of her entourage.

  There wouldn’t be time to get everyone out to KiKi’s and back again before the gala’s doors opened to their elite guest list, which meant... Trudy’s. Brooke shuddered at the thought of the subpar stylists handling her locks, but sometimes sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. And at least she’d have KiKi for her mani-pedi. That had to count for something, right?

  When they arrived at the salon, KiKi rushed over to greet Brooke and Tiara at the door.

  “How is my favorite customer today?” she asked in a goochy-goo voice, bending down to pat Tiara on the head. “And, Brooke! So good to see you, yes.”

  She popped up and took Brooke’s hand, studying the chips in her polish. “You waited too long this time to come see KiKi. You know better than this, Brooke.” She clucked her tongue and led Brooke over to an open station.

  “Tina, you take over here.” She gestured toward the woman whose nails she’d been soaking when Brooke and Tiara had strolled in. “I need to catch up with Miss Brooke.”

  Brooke unleashed Tiara, who did a quick lap of the salon before settling at her mama’s feet.

  As KiKi sat down across from her, a whoosh of her exotic perfume wafted toward Brooke. “So... How are things?” Kiki began to file Brooke’s nails as she always did at the start of their sessions. Nexus Nails and Beauty served a dual purpose in Brooke’s life: beauty and therapy—the perfect winning combination and exactly what she needed this week.

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” She let out a long sigh.

  The nail tech smiled knowingly. “Try me.”

  Brooke unloaded all the anxieties of the past week—the sudden change of course for the gala, the charity’s overbearing director, her strange new neighbors, even visiting Marcus in the hospital and making sure his transfer would go through. She shared everything—well, everything except for all the recent fights with Brian. That felt too private, too sacred.

  KiKi listened, nodding frequently and interjecting occasionally to offer some bit of wisdom that was oddly reminiscent of what one might find inside a fortune cookie.

  “You want pedicure, yes?” She asked once the final coat of paint had been applied to Brooke’s stunning new metallic manicure.

  “Of course.”

  “Then c’mon back. Want a glass of wine? Coffee?”

  Brooke’s stomach roiled at the suggestion. “No, I’m not feeling too well today, actually.”

  KiKi twisted her face into a pout. “Oh, you poor thing. I’ll bring you some water. Water is good for the skin, keeps wrinkles away.”

  She scuttled to the back room and retrieved two cold bottles of Evian. She handed one to Brooke and poured the other into a shiny ceramic dish for Tiara.

  “Now you sit back and relax. Let the chair do its job.” She pushed a button and the massagers in the back of the chair roared to life. Another button set the foot spa bubbling.

  Brooke leaned back into the soothing leather embrace of the chair and closed her eyes. It would be so easy to grab a quick, little nap.

  But no. She still had so much work to do, and putting things off would only make it all that much worse. Right on cue, her phone buzzed on her lap. Kim. Of course. Brooke groaned and brought up the text. Just another couple days and this would all be over. She could last another couple days, right?

  B, how about clam shooters?

  Crazy. This woman was actually certifiable. Not only would clam shooters send them way over budget, but they also clashed horribly with the rest of the menu.

  The door pushed open, bringing in some of the warm air from outside and, with it, one of her favorite people in the entire world. Tiara’s too. The little dog pranced over to the tall, modelesque, and perfectly tanned teen at the door.

  “Auntie Brooke!” the girl cried. “I had a feeling I might find you here.”

  “Ligia, you have no idea how glad I am to see you. I’m so sorry I didn’t call sooner. Is everything going well at college? How’s your roommate? Do you like your classes? Meet any cute guys?”

  Ligia laughed, but her breasts didn’t jiggle with the rest of her, despite being a DD-cup at least. “Too many questions, Auntie B. At least wait until I’m in the chair.”

  “KiKi, you remember my goddaughter, Ligia, don’t you?”

  “Ahh, yes, I remember. Liggy, you here for a mani-pedi like your aunt?”

  “Please, and I’ll also take a bottle of Evian.”

  Brooke waited for Ligia to get settled into the chair beside her before resuming her interrogation.

  “Again I’m really sorry for not calling sooner. I feel like the worst aunt in the world.”

  “Auntie B, seriously, calm down. I’ve only been here for like a week, and I know you’re busy with that gala thing. I’m on the guest list, right?”

  “Of course, you can be my own personal plus-one.”

  “Won’t Uncle Brian mind?”

  Brooke studied the fresh polish on her nails. It would go perfectly with the sequined gown she’d purchased for the big event. “Okay, you can be my plus-plus-one. I’m the host, so I can get away with it, right? Enough about me though, do you like the school? How’s living in Texas after all that time in New York?”

  Ligia shrugged. “Same as anywhere else. I spent the summer in Rio with my folks.”

  “Oh, yes, I knew that already. Didn’t I? So, dish, how was it?” Brooke felt younger and more alive just talking with Ligia. Though they weren’t related by blood, she was the spitting image of Brooke—tall, leggy, gorgeous—but Ligia had the added advantage of a natural honey tan and very unnatural silicone enhancements—a graduation gift.

  “OMG, I had the greatest time ever. Speaking of which, you owe us a trip, Mom has been asking after you, says you haven’t been down in ages. Hey, maybe you can come for Carnival this year! Wouldn’t that be fun?”

  Ligia was right, it had been forever since she’d visited Cinthia in Brazil, despite the fact that the woman was one of her oldest friends. And even though Rio was a world away, Brooke always felt at home there. From the beaches to the lavish houses, the entire city buzzed with sexuality. With a bit of practice, it became easy to block out the shanty-filled ghettos, to focus only on the posh side of life there.

  “I’ll definitely put it on my calendar,” Brooke said at last. My private calendar. Brian had been strangely controlling lately, and she didn’t feel like getting into a fight over it. Besides, she was sure he’d be back to his normal, doting self soon enough... Wouldn’t he?

  Ligia shot her a proud smile then fished her own phone out of her Betsey Johnson bag. “Look at this,” she said, waving the phone toward Brooke. “It’s my website, at least the mobile version of it. Do you like my logo? I did it myself!”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, what’s all this?”

  Ligia beamed. “I’m following in your stilettos, Auntie B, and I’m going into business for myself.

  “Into business? But you’re only a freshman! Shouldn’t you—I don’t know—take some time to do the whole college thing first?”

  She laughed. “Yeah, right. I’ve gotta work fast if I’m going to become an international brand before my thirtieth birthday, right?”

  Ligia still had a long way to go before thirty. Brooke on the other hand... She frowned, but luckily her companion was too caught up in her phone to notice.

  “So, umm, what business are you starting?”

  “Pageant consulting, duh.” She put her hand on her hip and flashed a
dazzling smile.

  “Oh, Texas is the perfect place for that. Good thinking.” Had Brooke been this enterprising at eighteen? It was hard to remember, but one thing she knew for sure was that Ligia could accomplish whatever she set her mind to and then some. She was like a younger, better Brooke. Brooke 2.0.

  “Right? I get to be close to you and make my first million, it’s like the perfect combo.”

  “So how do you—?” Brooke’s phone buzzed, interrupting her mid-sentence. “Excuse me one sec.”

  Brooke, I need to know. Can we get the clam shooters or not?

  “Ugh, this woman is driving me up the wall,” Brooke growled, flashing her phone Ligia’s way.

  “Clam shooters? Ewww. That’s so tacky.”

  “You’re telling me.” Her stomach roiled just thinking about it.

  Another text came in.

  Could you confirm the plan for the bar? What will we have in stock? Is two drink tickets too much? Maybe we could save money by cutting back to one. K?

  Ligia’s eyes grew wide. “Seriously, what’s her problem?”

  Brooke frowned. “Now you know why I’ve been too busy to be a good godmother this past week.”

  “Auntie B, seriously, let me help. We can handle this whackadoo together. Besides it will be good practice for me.”

  Brooke opened her mouth to argue, but pushed the words back down. Why not let Ligia help? She was so much more enthusiastic and—let’s face it—competent than Vi, Annabeth, and the rest of the crew she’d managed to pull together.

  Brooke took a deep breath and nodded. Time to put her game face on, to push herself, to push everyone, to get this done and get it done right. Even if it meant ruffling a few feathers or allowing a few of Kim’s terrible ideas to slip through. She could do this. After all, that’s why she was the queen.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Annabeth

  The midday sun hung heavy in the cloudless sky. Annabeth had never imagined that she could despise the sun, but somehow she found herself missing the gray skies of the Midwest. Back in Michigan, the trees would be turning about now, but here in Texas fall still seemed a million years away.

  Annabeth leaned against the Book Cellar’s cool stone walls to catch a bit of shade. With a quick sweep of her thumb she checked her messages. Nothing. She hadn’t heard a word from Fin since Tuesday morning. What was his deal?

  She shoved her phone back into her pants pocket and put her injured arm into the sling. Her impatience to be done with the injury had caused her hand to swell. It had been almost four days since she’d injured it. When would enough be enough? The doctor had told her to take it easy, but she hated that phrase.

  Of all the times to get mugged and injured...

  She had a video conference scheduled with her boss that morning. He made it abundantly clear that he was none too pleased with the progress reports she had been sending. They had failed yet again. First the Bureau and now this. Annabeth had somehow managed to convince the boss to give them a little more time. It had only been a few weeks after all. They weren’t miracle workers for goodness sake.

  Doubt was seeping in from every corner.

  Can I do this without Marcus’s help?

  Am I going end up spending my days asking people if they want fries with that?

  She’d been so busy going over the evidence and researching paid-car services, she hadn’t had time to process his accident. The hospital and police had each called a few times, but she hadn’t called anyone back. That would mean acknowledging what had happened, and she just wasn’t ready to do that yet. Because if she stopped even for a moment to think about how she almost lost him, she wouldn’t be able to keep going. Instead, she spent every waking hour pouring over their notes and researching, trying to find something that they might have missed.

  The night before, Brooke had sent out an email thanking the volunteers for their hard work and trying to get everyone pumped up about being in the home stretch…as a segue for asking them to come in yet again the next morning to help finish up some last-minute preparations. And even though it would mean two days in a row spent volunteering, she’d agreed to show up. It was just what she needed to give her mind a little rest—busywork. And it was for a good cause. Joy was a sweet woman with a big heart. In their short time together she had seen snatches of the person behind the mask of her diagnosis.

  As Annabeth stepped out of her car, several volunteers and vendors bustled past her, heading into the café to deliver last-minute supplies. Mitsy and her crew were carrying in arm loads of desserts. Annabeth jogged up ahead to hold open the door.

  “Thank you!” Mitsy called out over her shoulder as they bustled inside.

  Annabeth let the door close behind her with a pleasant jingle. The potent aroma of fresh brewed coffee mixed with the comforting buzz of southern chatter. The Book Cellar had become one of her favorite places in Texas, hands down. She loved that they made almond milk lattes and offered her as many refills as she wanted on the house. Probably had something to do with the “friendship” she’d formed with Brooke, but she knew better than to question it.

  The barista smiled at her as she made her way up to the counter. “Latte?”

  “Yes, please,” she said.

  While she waited for her drink, she leaned against the counter and flipped through a Proust book of poetry that someone had left on the counter. Inside the front of the book was Fin’s business card. He must have left it here when he was working with the crew. Annabeth slipped it into her messenger bag to give to him later.

  Why hasn’t Fin texted me back?

  She really needed to know what company he had used to call the car for Amy. Without that crucial bit of information, the investigation would remain stalled. She had some connections still at the Bureau that could help her get a warrant for the driver records. They still had an open case file on the group. If she could find out the name of the service, she could feed them the information they needed to get the case moving and for her to fulfill her boss's request.

  “Here ya go, Miss. Brooke has y’all covered. So enjoy!” The perky barista handed her a perfectly crafted latte.

  She didn’t want Brooke’s charity, but it was a mighty fine cup of coffee. Okay, so she’d overlook it...this time.

  There wasn’t enough coffee in the world, though, to prepare her for the crazy jumble of people that awaited her in the back room. Even though the Book Cellar often hosted small parties, it had never seen anything like the gala before. Brooke had really done an amazing job in transforming the space to work for her needs. Not that Annabeth would ever give her the satisfaction of telling her that.

  The white walls were trimmed with oak and were tastefully decorated with French accents. The cozy room boasted a full kitchen and wood burning fireplace. The French doors to the back were held open by two white wooden folding chairs. They opened out into a large deck that had bar tables and stools spread out around a portable bar.

  The volunteers had finished putting the tables together yesterday and had started work on the decorations.

  “Becca, that isn’t the Fieldstone Company table. They are over there. Pay attention, this is important.”

  Brooke’s face reddened as she charged toward a group of young men examining the electrical system. “What’s the problem, gentlemen? I needed this done yesterday.”

  Her phone buzzed with a new text. Her heart rate jumped as she fumbled to get it out of her bag and wake up the screen. Not Fin. Mic, her friend from the Bureau, who’d been transferred to the Austin field office.

  Anna, I heard about Marcus and the hit-and-run. I have a friend in the police department and he seems to think it may be tied to an organized crime group. They have been having similar hit-and-run “accidents.” I’ll let you know if I hear more.

  Annabeth’s chest tightened. Could the sex trafficking group be on to them? She dropped her phone back into her bag and searched the sea of faces trying to find Fin.

  “Anna?�
� Vi stood behind her, holding an armful of silver tinsel-like decorations.

  She desperately wanted to still be angry at Vi for what she and Brooke had done, but Vi was one of those people it was hard to hate. The freezer full of homemade meals had certainly helped. After all, food was her love language.

  She sighed, the decision already having been made. “Hey, sorry I’m late. Are those the decorations we have to put up?”

  Vi nodded, her face contorted into a sad grimace. “Yeah, I was just going to do it myself, but the ladder is shaking too much, and Brooke was yelling at me about insurance coverage, and how she doesn’t need one more thing to have to deal with, and—”

  “It’s okay. I can help hold it still. C’mon.” She smiled and took the decorations from Vi. “Oh, hey, thank you for the meals, by the way.”

  Vi’s cheeks reddened. “It was the least I could do.”

  Annabeth sat down on the bottom rung of the ladder to stabilize it. She used her good arm to stretch up and hand Vi the streamers. Vi then fastened them to the ceiling with a special adhesive.

  Nearby, a young Latino woman sat tapping away at her laptop, carrying on a distracted conversation with one of the guys from Fin’s sound team as he untangled a huge mess of wires. Where was he, and why wasn’t he answering any of her texts?

  The young man who had turned up looked like a younger hipster version of Fin. His thick, black hair was slicked back into a man bun and he sported a well-trimmed beard. His tight, black jeans hung low on his narrow hips and his T-shirt left very little to the imagination, showing off the sinewy muscles of his arms and chest. All he needed was a scarf and a paper cup and he would look just like all the other pretentious jerks who populated the coffee house part of the venue. “C’mon, baby, tell me your name,” he said with a smile that made Annabeth’s stomach flip-flop.

  The girl who held his attention was one of the most beautiful Annabeth had ever seen. Her black hair fell across her shoulders in glossy waves, and her dark brown eyes popped from the carefully applied eye makeup. Her tight white tank top highlighted other assets as well.