Page 67 of Misadventures With My Fake Fiancé

“Well?”

“He's in New York.” I said that with the hopes of delaying this Looney Tune long enough for Mike to catch on we needed the full-blown cavalry.

“New York?” Laurel ran his fingers through his hair, paced in circles. Stopped. “Look, lady. You're coming with me. Your boyfriend?—”

“Fiancé,” Goldie, Veronica and Mrs. O all said at the same time.

“—Fiancé is going to have to trade it for you.”

I took another step back, my heart rate kicking up. I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins. “Who are you? You're definitely not the FBI.” I pointed down his body.

“I knew those IDs and badges were fake,” Goldie muttered.

Laurel must have finally had enough. Before my eyes, he switched from reasonably calm to irate and very dangerous. He pulled a gun from behind his back. Where had it been, tucked in his waistband? “The necklace was an easy mark. Just go in, swap the replica with the original and be done. But no. My wife Shireen had to get even with me for fooling around with my dental hygienist by selling it to what's-his-face in Alaska.”

“That's the best DEFCON ONE I've heard yet,” Goldie murmured, arms raised.

Veronica nodded her agreement. I didn't say it, but I thought so, too.

“Huh?” Laurel was stumped. He scratched his head with his free hand.

He wasn't the best bad guy, more over his head than evil. But a loose cannon with a gun was extra dangerous, so we all needed to be extra careful. Especially me, since the gun was pointed my way.

“Your wife sold Bob the real necklace?” Mrs. O asked, her voice calm, hands out by her sides.

“It was listed as a replica online, but she sent the real deal to fuck with me. We're divorcing—said I'm a cheating bastard—and wanted to have one last joke on me.”

If he really was a cheating bastard, Shireen did good. If he weren’t standing in front of us having a nervous breakdown, we'd be cheering for her.

“So you went to Alaska to get it back,” Veronica said.

Laurel turned to look at her, waved the gun around. “Yeah. Easy as pie. I just dragged my brother along to look like we were with the FBI. But then this woman had to meddle”—he pointed the gun at Goldie—“and mix the original and the fake. Again.”

Goldie didn't look very contrite for her mistake, or overly concerned by the weapon. In fact, she looked like she was going to call Shireen and ask her why she married him at all.

“Where's your brother?” I looked around for Hardy, hoping he wasn't hiding in the dildo section with his own weapon.

“I killed him.”

Everyone froze. So did my heart for a beat or two. All of his focus was on me. Shit. This wasn't good. “W...why?”

“Because he knew too much. Wanted part of the cut.”

“Cut? It's just a pewter necklace. It can't be worth killing over.”

Laurel rolled his eyes. “Ever wonder why it's so heavy?”

Yes, actually, I did.

“There's a ruby hidden between the two pieces of pewter that makes up the cross. Jefferson Davis had it tucked in there for safekeeping. Insurance if the war took a bad turn.”

The war had taken a turn for him, being on the losing side and all, but it must not have been bad enough to pull out the gem.

“Jefferson Davis' wife wore a cross with a hidden ruby in it?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Laurel said, his true southern accent coming out. “And I want it. You're coming with me until it's time to trade.”

Lesson number one in self-defense. Never go off with someone who's dangerous—and armed. You go with them, you die. Just like Hardy.

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