Page 25 of The Woman in the Warehouse

“About the theft, the stakeout, the carjacking, and the diner? Yes, yes, I know about that,” she said, shooting me a grin.

She really was gorgeous. Mother and daughter were practically identical, save for the passing of years and the changes those made.

But if this was what Saylor was going to look like in another fifteen or twenty years, she was still going to be a knockout.

“Yeah, about all of that,” I agreed.

“I feel like I should apologize for my daughter’s bad behavior,” she said.

“In her defense, it was a sort of life-or-death situation,” I said, wincing only when the words were out of my mouth and I realized how they might be taken by the person-who’d-almost-gotten-killed’s mother.

“It’s sweet that you feel compelled to defend her,” Sam said. “But I think we both know my daughter is one bad day away from pulling out a gun on the subway if someone just looks at her too long.”

A snorting laugh escaped me at that.

“Well, I don’t know her that well,” I admitted.

“I do. Trust me. She’s definitely an ‘act first, ask questions later’ kind of woman.”

“It’s probably an asset in her field.”

“It’s probably in her blood thanks to me.”

“You?” I asked, dubious. She seemed a lot more level than her daughter.

“Marriage and motherhood sanded down some of my sharper edges,” she admitted. “But when I was young? I was constantly getting myself into trouble. It’s why Saylor could never get away with anything when she was a teenager. Before her, there was me. And I knew exactly what she was up to.”

“My mom never let us get away with shit either,” I admitted.

“Really?” Sam asked, head tipped to the side. “A mafia mom didn’t let her kids get away with anything?”

So, Saylor told her mom everything.

Interesting.

“Not if it involved trying to sneak out, drink, smoke, or anything else she wouldn’t approve of.”

“I like—oh, excuse me, one second,” she said as someone came in and moved toward the front desk.

I cleaned up our empty smoothies then moved to stand, glancing occasionally back toward the hallway that led to the locker rooms. Where I couldn’t seem to stop my mind from imagining Saylor. In a shower. Naked. Water running down her…

“So, I wouldn’t be a good mother if I didn’t tell you at least one early childhood embarrassing story about Saylor, right?”

“I mean, that does seem to be the way this is supposed to work,” I agreed. Even if I knew that was for dates, not business arrangements. What can I say? I wanted to know a funny story about someone as serious as Saylor.

“Well, she’s always loved everything Halloween since she was really little. And I probably let her watch some movies that were a little age-inappropriate. She especially liked ones about bad witches. Well, one day, we were in the grocery store and an older lady was there wearing a cape. It was winter,” Sam said, shrugging. “And she… had a pretty prominent wart on her nose…”

“Oh no,” I said, smiling already at how this story could go.

“I was a little distracted by my baby at the time, so I didn’t notice she was looking at her all horrified until she yelled at the top of her lungs It’s a witch! A witch! She’s gonna eat me and my brother!”

“I don’t want to know what you just told him,” Saylor’s voice cut into my laugh, and I turned to find her standing there with her wet hair in a clip, her eyes staring daggers into her mother.

“It was the witch story,” Sam said, smiling, enjoying her daughter’s discomfort.

“I was six,” Saylor insisted. “And I probably shouldn’t have known about the fact that witches eat children. Virgins, I will specify.”

“Oh, you didn’t even know what that word meant,” Sam said, brushing that away. “Well, I will let the two of you get going. Anthony, it was a pleasure to meet you. If you are ever looking for a new gym—“

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