I’m a lot more worried about him than me.
Because I’m getting the silent treatment, I have no idea why he calls an Uber instead of driving. When we exit in Georgetown, not too far from the college, he points to the address of the lobbyist.
“You’re a wealthy friend of Sylvia Bannerman. We just want to find out what she was financing then leave. No more, no less.” His scowl puts me in a worse mood.
“Fine.” Private detectives go under cover all the time. I can do this. Piece of cake.
I check my phone and it’s after nine when we ring the Bluetooth doorbell.
“Can I help you?” A young man’s voice answers from a nearby speaker.
Suds leans into the little microphone. “I know we don’t have an appointment but I’m here with a dear friend of Sylvia’s and wondering if we could talk.” When a solenoid near the handle buzzes, I cheer internally as we enter the turn-of-the-century building.
Inside, we walk down a long hallway with high tin ceilings and knock at a door marked entrance. A crystal handle turns and a clean-cut, blond-haired, blue-eyed young millennial stands before us.
Shooting me a bright toothy smile, he holds out his hand. “Peter Holden. What can I do for you?”
Suds slides a protective palm to my lower back and follows the Adonis into a cozy room with tall windows overlooking a courtyard garden.
“Sit, please.” Holden unbuttons his suit jacket and points to empty cushioned chairs circling a shining wood tabletop.
Once we’re settled and introductions made Suds clears his throat. “I work for Patten Securities. My client, here, asked me to track you down. Samantha was a dear friend of Sylvia Bannerman and would like to continue her fight. It’s a tribute to her memory. Of course, it would all be handled anonymously.”
Holden saddens. “Poor Sylvia. She was such a nice lady.”
“What a loss…” I dab at my eyes with a tissue, pretend to tear up, then blow my nose.
He waits until I calm before asking, “So, what exactly, can I do to help you?”
I embellish lightly on the lie Suds and I agreed upon. “We want to support the bill in the Senate. We have to stop lawn care companies from using dangerous chemicals… If things go well, I have more potential investors… friends actually.”
Holden pulls out his laptop and a large monitor on the back wall glows as it powers up. While images of small dead forest animals flash one after another, sad music plays. It ends with bright red letters on a white background. Agro-grow kills.
Holden clicks his fingertips over his keyboard. “We’re trying to get both parties on board. Agro-grow is using DCCST, a chemical banned in Europe but not in the US. The stuff is incredibly toxic and they know it.”
“Then why use it?” My vocal chords tighten and I’m no longer playing a role. This is so not right.
Holden seems pleased his movie made me angry. “DCCST is cheaper than other chemicals and makes for some of the greenest lawns out there and almost no one knows. That’s why Sylvia hired me, to help get the word out.”
“That was so like her.” I take the tissue to my eye again hoping my acting is not over the top.
Suds stands, apparently done. “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice.”
The young man stands so quickly his chair rolls back to the wall. Then, turning to me, he takes both my hands in his.
“Can I ask you to leave a donation before you go? Sylvia’s passing left quite a hole in our operations.”
“You’ll be hearing from us soon.” My partner looms and glares, letting it be known we’re finished.
Once outside, I feel bad for setting up the lobbyist’s hopes. I really do wish I had two million dollars to give to him.
More and more, I get bad vibes about Agro-grow. Frankie said to follow the money and look where it took us. In the backseat of the Uber, I voice my concerns to a stoic Suds.
“Do you think Holden could be in danger?”
“Possibly, if he gets backing. If Agro-grow hired a hitman to kill Sylvia, it’s not much of a stretch to consider they’d kill him as well.” For the first time since choking me, Suds meets my gaze and holds it. However, instead of the passion I expect to see, there’s only sadness.
“So what’s our next move?”
“Breakfast?”
“Sure.” I smile and try to take his hand but he moves it.
“We should talk.” After checking his phone, he walks us to the corner where college students sit outside a small cafe with outside tables.
As we stand in line, I put a palm to his cheek. “You didn’t hurt me.”
“But I could have.” His eyes grow dark, he grabs my wrist, and puts it back at my side.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” I pop my hand back to his face which shakes back and forth.
“You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
“So explain it to me.” The hostess seats us in an open booth near the front window where the sun warms my inner chill.
While I pull little plastic tabs off the creamers, Suds sips his black. His next words cut a hole into my chest so deep, air whooshes out.
“We can’t keep seeing each other.”
“What did I do?”
“It’s not what you did, it’s how I feel about you. You get under my skin. I like being with you.”
“Okay, I really like being with you, too. So, what’s the problem? Slate? My dad? Vinny?”
He snorts out his nose, a kind of sad laugh. “None of those. I have built-in reflexes and they don’t mix well when I wake up with a woman in my bed. Generally, that’s not a problem.”
“No problem, I won’t hang around after sex.”
“Well, shit, sugar. I thought staying awake would work, too, but I fell asleep and almost killed you.”
“That’s a bit of stretch, Sebastian…”
“My knife was in my boot, my holster too far away to reach. What if it’d been closer to the bed?” He shudders. “No. It’s better this way.”
I’m not the type to beg so I nod and, because we need to work together, I put out my hand. “Friends?”
“Yeah.” His grip tightens around mine and my nether regions dampen.
Oh fuck. This is not going to be easy.
The sooner I get my PI business going, the better.
Chapter 17
Suds
I finish my coffee, more miserable than I’ve been for a long while. In the diner, college students moon over each other, laughing and carefree. For a moment, I get a pang of jealousy. If my parents had been a little better off, I could’ve gone to college without going to war and I’d probably be married with a few little rug rats. Maybe I would’ve been an architect. I was always drawing buildings as a kid.
Instead, I’m a bodyguard. True, I do some investigative work but mostly I’m hired muscle.
Guys like me are no good for a woman like Sam and it’s best I cut her free. Our little fling was never supposed to amount to anything. Slate was right.
Except for last night, a little voice whispers in my head.
Okay, so I spent almost a week in her company. Our hormones went into overdrive. Shit happens. It was nothing more than a chemical reaction based on two people being too lonely for their own good.
Her phone pings and she sighs. “Dammit.”
“Who was that?”
“The ex. He’s got some app and it changes his callerID. Even though I keep blocking him, he still shows up in my inbox.”
“You want me to talk to him?” I may not be able to claim her for myself but I can help get rid of her ex, if she’ll let me.
“No, no. He’s harmless, just annoying.” She sighs deeply, her dark eyes dilating when they meet mine.
Fuck it. This is all my fault. I should’ve never let us get so close. My cock stirs and I shut him down real fast. No way, dude. You almost got her killed. From now on, me and Sam are friends and coworkers, got it? No more screwing around.
&nbs
p; As we Uber back to the hotel, she smiles at me but our thighs don’t touch nor does she try to take my hand. In a way, it pisses me off. I figured she’d try to cure me like Lucky’s wife did. Maybe she doesn’t care anywhere near as much as I thought.
Whereas the drive to DC was full of conversation, the trip back is excruciatingly quiet. I find a country music station and hum along, as big a loser as they come.
My hand itches to drop down on her knee or touch her soft locks. My memory rings with the sounds of her little screams as she’d orgasmed right before I came inside of her. Hell, I’m going to miss her. If only I hadn’t fallen asleep. What a stupid move, dude.
It was bound to happen sooner or later, my inner sane-man argues.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. I comprehend but I wanted more, so much more.
When I glance over, she’s staring at me intently, frowning, and I can tell she’s hatching up some plan in that clever brain of hers.
“What?” I figure she’s about to tell me I need some psycho-babble therapy shit and I ready myself with a response.
“I was thinking…”
“Mmm?”
“We need to set up a sting. Right? Patten? The money? You with me?”
Shit. While I was mooning over her, she’s been trying to solve the case. God, I am so pathetic.
“I’m not even sure I want to know.”
“Do you figure Agro-grow will use a hit man again?”
“I would guess they’ll up their game and pay more to get better results.”
“My thoughts exactly.” She grins. “I think we’re ready for Jason.”
“The AI unit? What can it do?”
“Well, now I’ve got a little more data, he can search the internet. We know the hit will come from Agro-grow and will be similar to Sylvia Bannerman’s. Jason can find the ad for a hitman and I can answer it.”
“I don’t think so, darlin’. No one will hire a woman hitman. Thus, the term hit-man, not hit woman.”
Ouch. If she had laser vision, her look would fry me to a crisp. The tone, however, is chilly. “They won’t even know and, for the record, I am going to do this.”
“The hell you are.”
“What’s it to you? We’re not even a thing.”
“We’re coworkers and I don’t let my partners put themselves in danger.”
“We’ll just see about that.” She hurrumphs.
“Dammit, Sam. You’re an analyst not a fucking undercover operative. This is not a game.”
“I knew it! You don’t believe I can be a private eye, do you? You were only trying to get into my pants.”
“Sugar, me wanting in your pants has nothing to do with your five year plan.”
“Admit it. You don’t think I can do it.”
I picture all the PI’s I know, all former cops or vets, all pure grit, and grimace. She’s right but I’ll be damned if I’ll tell her. Instead, I glare. I don’t like being backed against the wall, either physically or verbally.
“Fine. I will prove it to you.” She turns up the volume and like that, she shuts me out.
Chapter 18
Sam
I cannot believe I was thinking he could be my forever-man. He’s exactly like every other stubborn, opinionated male in the universe and I am going to prove how very wrong he is.
It’s after dinner by the time we reach the city and the pizza we ate on the road sits in my stomach like wet clay.
We’re stopped at a light by a subway station, near the N train which goes out to Brooklyn. “I’ll get myself home from here.”
He clicks the child locks. “Like hell you will.”
“What? You going to kidnap me?” I lean over his frame, push the button on the door, and jump out of the car.
As I stomp away he curses at me and I throw him the bird. Damn him for making me want him then throwing me away.
Underground, I open my purse, swipe my card, and stand in the crowd with tears starting to fall. This is so stupid. I’ve only know Sebastian Sutcliff for a few weeks. How had I let my heart get so involved?
“Rebound boyfriend. Dangerous shit.” Much later, Rose imparts her wisdom as we share a drink in our favorite local dive. “Happens.”
She swirls her drink thoughtfully. “It’s for the best, right?”
“Right.” I slam my beer bottle on the table, startling people nearby. “I am Sam Russo, private eye. To hell with anyone who doesn’t believe in me. And, know what else? I am going to solve Bannerman’s murder and put my shit up on my website and everyone is going to know how damn good I am.”
“Atta girl.” Rose holds three fingers up at the waiter. “Another round.”
“So, are you going to quit Patten Securities?” Mia sips on a pink fizzy drink while I clunk my head on the table.
“I can’t. I need the investigative hours… and the money is good.”
Handing them my phone, they can see where I’ve logged my hours. “This is going to take forever.”
Mia pats my hand. “Maybe you can ask your boss to partner you with someone else.”
“Oh my God. Do you know how bad that will sound? I’m sure Mr. Slate already suspects we slept together. I’ll just have to tough it out.”
Rose tosses back a shot of whiskey, and gulps her beer. “So cuz, what’s your next step?”
“I need to go and talk to Doctor Jenna Jones.”
“Who?” The band comes back for another set and Mia has to shout to be heard.
“Artificial Intelligence,” I yell back.
“Huh?”
“Never mind.”
I grab their hand and we enter the dance floor. Like when we were teens, we shake out all our problems to the beat of the music. A couple hot guys come onto me and I move with them. I see sex in their eyes but they can dream on. From now on, it’s me and my vibrator. I am done with men forever.
Suds’ face comes to mind and I close my eyes tight, trying to exorcise him from my brain cells. The harder I try, the worse it gets so I have a few more drinks and party some more. By the time I crawl into bed after several more boilermakers, I’m pretty sure he’s gone for good.
In the morning, my phone rings way too early and I almost puke as the room spins. “Huh? Hello?”
“Can you come in today, Samantha? My regular girl called in sick.”
Aunt Marion. Good God.
I almost say no, then think of my rent and groan out an affirmative. Until I get Patten’s first paycheck, I am broke. There is no way I am putting one more penny on my credit cards or I will be in debt until I’m ninety.
“Sure. I’ll be there in fifteen.”
“Make it ten.”
“Do my best.”
I scoop four teaspoons of instant coffee into a mug, add water and start the microwave while I shower. In addition to no men, I am swearing off drinking, as well.
Time to get serious about my life.
Right. As I wash hair for minimum wage at my aunt’s salon.
After showing and layering on enough makeup to cover a night of drinking, I put my hair in a ponytail, drink my coffee, and hoof it to work.
Saturdays are ridiculously busy and my tip jar quickly fills because I’m the only washer who showed up to work. As usual, gossip abounds but luckily none about me which is good because despite taking twice the dosage of Advil, my head throbs.
The bad thing about this job is it leaves me way too much time to think.
As I lather the shampoo, I remember doing the same to Sebastian and how he moaned when I massaged his scalp. His handsome face comes to mind and his funny quips. His warm lips, his clever hands, and…
“Sam!” Rose shouts from her chair.
“Huh?”
“She’s washed already. Send her here.”
“Sure, sure.” I towel the bleached blond who gives me a Botox frown with fat duck lips.
“Sorry.” I mutter.
By noon, I’m feeling pretty miserable about my life and when I call Jenna Jones, I find out she
’s not in the office until Monday.
I work the afternoon shift, pour my tips into my purse, and head home to crash. All night long I dream of a handsome bodyguard.
In the morning, Mia drags me to church and Father O’Connell who must be close to ninety says mass. I half-sleep through the first part of the service. We get through our readings, some choir songs, stand up, sit down, and kneel. I figure for someone who hasn’t been to mass since high school, I’m keeping up pretty good.
Then comes the sermon.
The old priest takes about five minutes to climb into the ancient pulpit. Out of breath, his face red, he looks out into the congregation and heaves a heavy sigh.
“I sin. You sin. We all sin.” He lets his profound statement sink in.
“Who among you has not sinned?”
Mia begins to raise her hand but Rose nudges her and hisses. “It was a rhetorical question.”
I snort out a laugh and old lady McDougal in the pew behind us shushes us.
“Let him who is without sin cast the first stone!” He pounds his fist on the dais and when the microphone clunks to the floor, I stifle a giggle.
One of the deacons rushes up to fix it while the priest stares up at the vaulted ceiling, whispering, I guess, to God.
The deacon nods and runs back to his pew.
“Sinning is bad.” Father O’Donnell begins anew.
I whisper to Rose. “Is he going somewhere with this?”
“I doubt it.”
“Shush.” I get a rough tap on my shoulder from a cane.
Am I the only one hearing this?
“I want you all to go home today and think about casting the first stone. Could you? Could any of you? What would Jesus do? Huh? Let me tell you, He let the sinning woman go. Everyone dropped their stones, and because everyone sinned, there was no one to condemn the adulterous woman. So they had to let her go. Pray about that my brothers and sisters.”
He takes five minutes to get down off the pulpit, mass continues and I wonder if I’m still a little drunk from last night.
I told my father I’d be there for dinner.
Suds and Sam Page 9
