I had hated the idea of coming to Sinful. Had protested with all of my being and had been so dead set against it that I was ready to risk an assassination just to avoid it. But I’d been wrong. Coming to Sinful and becoming friends with Ida Belle and Gertie was one of the best things that had ever happened to me. The other was Carter. Meeting them and seeing how life could be had made me question everything about my past choices to the point that I’d finally decided I’d gotten most everything wrong.
I’d already decided to leave the CIA when this nightmare was over, but what I still wasn’t completely sure about was what I would do afterward. Ida Belle and Gertie had been pushing me toward getting my private investigator license, and I’ll admit, it was an intriguing idea, but I knew it would put a strain on my relationship with Carter. He was still coming to terms with who I really was and all the lies I’d told to keep it a secret. He’d had a relationship with a Special Forces woman in the past that had ended tragically, and he’d sworn he’d never get involved with a woman who took those sorts of risks again. I knew that PIs normally didn’t have the kind of risk associated with their work that Special Forces or federal agents did, but Sinful had proved to be a hotbed of criminal activity with a lot of violence associated.
I took a drink of soda and slumped back in my seat. None of it mattered if Celia managed to find what she was looking for. If she blew my cover, I’d be whisked away to a new location and unable to talk to anyone in Sinful until Ahmad was in custody or dead. That could be weeks or months or God forbid, even years. It was a bleak thought. Anything could happen over a long period of time. Ida Belle and Gertie weren’t getting any younger. They could get ill or even worse. Carter could decide he’d made a mistake getting involved with me and start dating a nice, pretty girl who’d never been shot at and hadn’t been paid to kill people for a living.
Basically, I could be forgotten. Replaced.
I blew out a breath and my computer beeped, signaling an incoming email. I was a bit surprised that Harrison had responded so quickly, but popped upright in my chair and clicked on the message.
To: farmgirl433
From: hotdudeinNE
I tried to tell you to be nice to nosy old ladies. If you’re nice, they bring baked goods and try to set you up with their grandsons, but if you’re remotely off-putting, they see it as a challenge. The weather cooled a bit here for a while, but it’s right back up into the stratosphere. I would love to have you for a visit, but I wouldn’t have time to even share a cup of coffee at the moment. I’m bringing on some additional help the next couple days. Let me see how that works and I’ll let you know if it frees me up any.
Looking forward to seeing you again. Avoid the neighbor. She sounds exhausting.
My pulse ticked up a notch as I read the email. The weather cooling meant the CIA had no luck locating Ahmad, but if things were heating up into the stratosphere now, then they had a hot tip. So hot they were bringing in more agents to work it—hence Harrison’s comment about additional help. I was especially excited to read that he thought he’d know more in a couple of days. That meant that whatever tip they were working, the job was already under way.
If the CIA could set me free soon, I would be the happiest person in the world.
With a ton of decisions to make very quickly.
A knock on my door brought me out of my thoughts, and I logged off and closed my laptop, figuring it was Carter. He knew my real identity and had met my partner, Harrison, but I didn’t feel like sharing this with him just yet. I didn’t want him getting his hopes up. Mine were already up enough for both of us.
I hurried to the front door and was surprised to see Ida Belle and Gertie standing there. Ida Belle looked worried. Gertie looked confused. Neither gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling. I waved them in and closed and locked the door behind them. I’d gotten lax the last couple of weeks with locks during the day and was trying to correct that bad habit. It might be all right for other residents of Sinful to take such a risk, but it was a foolish one for me to indulge in.
“Sorry,” Ida Belle said. “I forgot my key.”
“And I didn’t have a chance to grab my purse,” Gertie said. “Ida Belle dragged me out of my house so fast, I didn’t even have time to put on shoes.”
I looked down at her bare feet with lime-green polish.
Ida Belle waved a hand in dismissal. “No one’s going to see you but Fortune, and she’s seen a lot worse of you than green toes.”
“What if Carter shows up?” Gertie said.
“He’s seen worse too,” Ida Belle said. “I’ve got an emergency. Kitchen?”
“Of course,” I said, and we started back to the kitchen, our usual room for plotting, gossiping, and brainstorming. Whatever was going on was serious. Ida Belle wasn’t one for drama, and even if she hadn’t stated it was an emergency, I could see the strain on her face. I hoped nothing had happened with Celia and the election. If anyone could figure out a way to mess things up, it would be Celia.
Whatever it was, clearly Gertie hadn’t heard about it yet, which meant that Ida Belle had gotten the information directly from Marie or from one of her Sinful Ladies, who reported everything of interest to Ida Belle so that she was always aware of what was going on in Sinful. Ida Belle and Gertie took a seat at the table, and I pulled some sodas out of the refrigerator and passed them around. I reserved the right to move to the harder stuff depending on what Ida Belle had to say.
“What’s going on?” Gertie asked. “Is something wrong with Marie? Did Celia figure out a way to screw things up for her?”
“No,” Ida Belle said. “It has nothing to do with Marie.”
“Thank God,” Gertie said, looking as relieved as I felt.
“There was an incident at Hot Rod’s shop,” Ida Belle said.
Hot Rod Hank was a local guy who turned regular vehicles into lightning on wheels. Ida Belle had recently purchased a Blazer from him that went so fast it made you younger.
“What kind of incident?” I asked, wondering which one of his souped-up vehicles he’d been in when the incident occurred and what level of warp speed he’d been operating it at.
“There was a break-in,” Ida Belle said. “Someone cracked him over the head with a tire iron. He’s in the hospital and hasn’t regained consciousness.”
“Oh no!”
“That’s horrible!”
Gertie and I expressed our dismay at the same time.
“Was it robbery?” I asked. “They probably figured no one would be there on a Sunday night.”
“I’m not sure,” Ida Belle said. “One of the Sinful Ladies has a niece who works as a nurse at the hospital. She said Hot Rod was in critical condition, and the paramedics said it looked like some vehicles might be missing, but no one can be certain until Hot Rod wakes up or the police can check the vehicles in his shop against inventory.”
“That must be why Carter bailed on grill night and isn’t answering his phone,” I said.
Ida Belle nodded. “I’m sure he’s there trying to figure out what happened.”
“I hope Hot Rod is all right,” Gertie said. “I figured his fascination with speed would eventually get him into trouble, but I never imagined this sort.”
“Is there anything we can do?” I asked.