High Voltage (Ramsey Security #3)

“I’m more thinking size-wise,” I say, joining her in the bathroom. “Hello, sexy Ethel.”


Minka looks good wrinkled up. I imagine popping quite a few Viagra when we’re old enough that our bodies won’t cooperate with the dirty thoughts in our heads.

Minka bats her eyes. “Looking good, Ernest.”

Pulling at the excess shirt, I mutter, “Your ex was a fat fucker.”

“It’s so cute when you’re insecure,” she says, sliding on her wig. “He’s beefier than you. A lion versus a jaguar.”

“I like that,” I murmur, feeling her up through her granny shirt.

“Knock it off. You’ll make me sweat, and the makeup will run.”

“Why do we need this again?” I whine.

“How old are you?”

“When my dick gets hard, I’m about twelve,” I say, tugging at my pants. “Don’t blame me. Blame nature.”

Minka laughs. “People will notice two hot people like us in Common Bend. Old people are ignored.”

“Not when they’re this hot,” I say, cupping her left tit.

“Don’t make me start smacking you again.”

Minka dodges my greedy hands until we’re parked in Common Bend. Half a block down, two of Black’s deputies enjoy a three-hour lunch. Next to me, in the late model sedan we borrowed from Hayes, Minka sports a green visor and a fanny pack. Despite the shitty rock music CD she’s playing, my raging boner tries to talk Minka into crawling into the backseat and getting frisky like the old timers in Cocoon.

“Never saw the movie,” she says, pretending to look at a map.

“You’re missing out.”

“Old people fucking doesn’t interest me.”

“It’s a quality movie. One of my mom’s favorites.”

Minka gives me a grin. “You’re such a mama’s boy.”

“Laugh it up. One day, you’ll have our sons wrapped around your finger too.”

Minka wants to say something feisty. I sense her need to mock me, but her mouth remains shut.

“I’m proud of you,” I say.

“Nearly broke a hip but I managed.”

“How long are we going to sit here?”

“Do you want to walk over there and shoot them in front of everyone?”

“Sure.”

“We could do a drive-by.”

“I’m game.”

“We have the deputy’s gun. Seems like a waste not to use it in a murder-suicide scene.”

“You’re too professional. Let’s half-ass things and then leave this redneck paradise.”

“When we get back to Houston, will we live together or hook up a few nights a week?”

“I’m marrying you, Apples. Screw that ‘few nights a week’ shit.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were still ready to make me an honest woman.”

“Are you gonna stop lying and cheating once we’re married?”

“No, but I promise I won’t cheat on you or lie about important stuff.”

“Can I lie too?”

“To me? No. To other people? Sure.”

Before I can complain, I catch sight of the deputies readying to leave.

“Maybe they’ll go somewhere private so we can finish this.”

“I betcha they won’t. You’re not that lucky.”

“I banged you a few hours ago. I’d say that makes me pretty lucky.”

Minka laughs while adjusting her giant grandma sunglasses. I’m dying to make her laugh in the backseat. She’s pretty ticklish, and I know all her tender spots. Unfortunately, we’re on the clock.

The deputies end up at the sheriff’s office.

“Told you,” Minka says, again pretending to be looking at a map.

“How long can you look at that?”

“I have bad eyes. I’ll look at it until I’m done.”

Sighing, I scratch my head and nearly knock off my wig. Minka never looks at me, but I hear her snickering.

“I’m bored.”

“Let’s talk then. Don’t married people do more than fuck?”

“Yeah, they talk and stare at the TV. I think they might do some other shit too, but mainly it’s those three things.”

“Fine, let’s talk.”

“Do you ever talk to Frankie?”

Immediately tense, I growl, “No.”

“Are you angry with him?”

“He’s a fucking rat. We can’t be buddies.”

“Did he rat on you or your family?”

“No. He went undercover in a different family. Told my parents he was working in construction. He looked my parents in the eyes and lied. Then he testified against the Tovino family and took down some of their big guys. Did he think about how I might get killed when people found out Frankie was a rat? Or did he worry about our parents? Fuck no. He only cared about his magical idealism bullshit.”

“Do you really not know where he is, or is that a lie to avoid seeing him?”

“He’s in hiding, I assume. People want him dead.”

“Are you one of them?”

“He’s my brother.”

“Just checking.”

Minka falls silent, but I know she’s still thinking about Frankie. She won’t let the topic drop until she’s satisfied. Not after I pushed her on visiting her mom.