Thirty-Three and a Half Shenanigans (Rose Gardner, #6)

I felt Jed tense beside me, although his outward appearance was attentive but disinterested.

Skeeter planted his palms on the table, leaned over, and gave the man an intimidating glare. “Maybe we should look into the real cause of the bust. Where’s your paper with the code on it, Bear?”

A guilty look flooded the big man’s face.

Skeeter stood, a commanding presence with his six-foot frame and solid body. I’d never realized how muscular he was, but the shirt hid nothing. I was sure that was for effect too. “I know for a fact that several unauthorized papers with the code were in circulation before the auction. The sheriff’s department got hold of one of them. Jeff Dimler’s not in charge anymore, boys, and you best not forget it.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised that Skeeter knew that Joe was the one who was really in charge, but it felt surreal to hear him talking about my ex that way.

“I trust Lady, and each one of you knows that I don’t trust hardly anyone. If you have a problem with her being here, let me know right now.” Skeeter scanned the group, but everyone remained silent. “Good, then let’s get started.”

He sat in his chair at the head of the table, and the next half hour was filled with Skeeter asking the men to report on various aspects of his business. Drugs, theft, gun-running, moonshine—Skeeter ran an empire of more illegal activities than I wanted to know about. I resisted the urge to squirm in my seat. What in the world was I doing here? I was helping the very man Mason and Joe were justifiably trying to bring down. But I reminded myself I was here to find out who had tried to kill Mason. If I had to wade through filth, I would.

Skeeter finally sat back in his seat. “Does everyone understand their assignments for the next two weeks?” When no one answered, he nodded. “Good. Now I invite you all into the next room to celebrate a successful transition.”

The men stood and headed for the door, obviously knowing where they were going.

Skeeter offered me his hand, and I stood. Several of the men in the room watched us.

“I’m pleased with the progress of the transition, Mr. Malcolm.” I needed to act like I had a purpose for being here outside of Skeeter’s say-so.

His back was to the men and his eyes sparkled with playfulness. “Thank you, Lady. Your support has been instrumental. I know you have a drive ahead of you, but I insist you join us in the next room to celebrate.”

“Thank you.” I was glad he wasn’t upset that I’d broken the no-speaking rule, but was nervous about the next phase of the evening. Clearly, this was when my true purpose for being here would come into play.

Skeeter leaned into Jed and whispered in a growl, “You stay within inches of her until she leaves with you. If she goes to the restroom, you go in with her and hold the damn stall door closed. Got it?”

Jed nodded, his face solemn.

Skeeter moved back and motioned to the door. “After you.”

The men who were still in the room stepped back and watched me leave the room with Skeeter and Jed on my heels. We emerged into what appeared to be a large rec room with a small kitchen and bar at one end, sofas and chairs scattered around, and a pool table and air hockey table in the middle.

Skeeter led me to the bar, which was covered with an assortment of alcohol bottles. “Let me get you a drink, Lady.” He grabbed a bottle from under the counter and poured it in a glass full of ice before handing it to me.

I almost mentioned that I didn’t drink anything but wine, but it didn’t seem like a good time to bring it up. He poured himself a drink from the same bottle before returning it to the cabinet and shutting the door. Then he raised his glass toward me, his face serious. “To a profitable partnership.”

I clinked my glass with his, hoping our definition of profitable was the same thing. When I took a sip of the light brown liquid, I prepared myself for the dreaded burn, but it went down easily. It wasn’t alcohol. It was diluted tea.

Skeeter winked, then leaned toward my ear. “We need to keep our senses about us while the others lose theirs. If you need another drink, Jed will see to it that you get a refill. And never let your drink out of your sight.”

“Okay.”

“Do whatever you have to do to see what you need to see tonight. But remember that I have to keeping working with these men, and you will make future appearances.”

I had no idea what that meant. “Okay.” I tried to ignore his pronouncement about my continued presence in his life.

Skeeter held his hands out at his sides, his glass still in his hand. “Gentlemen, the bar is open.”

As he walked over to a small group of the men, I scanned the room in dismay. I had no idea what I was doing.

Jed, who had followed close behind me, whispered in my ear, “What do you want to do?”

Denise Grover Swank's books