Shame on You

“So, what kind of bike does he have?” she asks.

“Oh my God, it’s a Heritage Softail Classic with a Twin Cam engine, laced wheels with whitewalls, and studded leather. It’s beautiful,” I tell her as I close my eyes and picture the bike in my head. The bike with me on the back of it, my body draped around Griffin, and my arms clutching his waist.

Shit!

“What the hell am I supposed to do? I can’t work with Griffin,” I complain.

“You’re right. You’re absolutely right. There is no way you can work with that man under these conditions. It’s a tragedy and I am going to do something about it.” Paige grabs her cell phone from her desk and starts scrolling through her contacts.

What would I do without my friends? Seriously? I knew Paige wouldn’t let me down. I know my father gave me this case and transferring it to another firm is going to piss him off, but he’ll just have to deal with it. Paige understands what a bad idea it would be for me to be anywhere near Griffin, Harley or no Harley. I don’t trust him. I can’t work with someone I don’t trust. Especially when he’s a cocky smartass with too many muscles. And a Harley. A fucking Harley.

“Hello, darling, it’s Paige,” she says into her phone. “I need your help. It’s an emergency.”

I can always count on my friends. This makes me feel warm and fuzzy to know she’s got my back.

“No, not for me, for Kennedy,” she continues, before turning to face me and staring me up and down before shaking her head sadly at me.

What the hell is she doing? She doesn’t need to look at me like that just to call another PI firm a few towns over for some additional help.

“Yes, I think it has to be today. She can’t go on like this anymore,” Paige adds. “Perfect! You are a lifesaver. Kiss, kiss. We’ll see you in twenty.”

Paige hangs up the phone and walks around her desk to retrieve her purse from one of the drawers.

“Why do we need to go see the guys at Osborne Investigations? Can’t they just send someone over so I can fill them in on the case?”

Paige pulls her keys out of her purse and walks back over to me, linking her arm through mine and pulling me toward the door.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t call Osborne. I called Sven. Your roots are atrocious. There’s no way I’m letting you anywhere near Griffin Crawford again with hair like that.”

She clutches my arm with both hands when she feels me start to resist, I don’t even bother hiding my contempt by calling her every bad name I can think of from A to Z, starting with asshat and ending with…

GD zoo animal cray-cray.





CHAPTER 5




Get away from me, you little rat,” I whisper to Mrs. Justin Bieber as she sniffs the toe of my boot and then walks away in an angry huff.

I glare at Paige as she happily chats up Sven a few feet away, hoping she’ll feel my stare of death and get me the hell out of here. I don’t have time for this. I have a bail jumper to catch and a Harley man to get rid of.

I reach my fingers up to the neckband of the black plastic cape and tug on it, trying to relieve some of the choking sensation. My head itches like crazy so I use one of my fingernails to dig in between the foils.

“Don’t touch anysing. Vhat is vrong viff you. You mess up my masterpiece,” Sven scolds as he walks over to me, smacks my hand away, and lifts up some of the foils on my head to check them.

I know for a fact Sven’s name is really Steve and he was born and raised in Jersey. Every time he speaks I want to borrow a page out of my dad’s handbook, smack him upside the head, and ask him what the hell is wrong with him.

“Can you please remoof da gun? It making me so nervous. You shoot Sven on accident,” he tells me with a nervous shiver as he stares down at my gun in its holster at my hip.

“How much longer is this going to take? I have work to do,” I complain as I unclip my gun and holster and set it on the tray of unused foils next to me.

“Beauty takes time, Kennedy. Be a good girl and maybe I’ll take you out for ice cream when we’re finished,” Paige says with a smile.

Is it illegal for me to pull my gun in the middle of a salon? I need to check the rules of my CCW permit.

“Here, why don’t you read through McFadden’s file while you’re sitting there so patient and well behaved.” Paige picks up the folder on the floor by my feet and drops it into my lap.