Page 69 of Misadventures With My Fake Fiancé

My sister was such a brown-noser—and she wasn't the one who'd slept with her son.

Mrs. O smiled. “That's nice, dear.”

“Hey!” the guy said angrily. He grabbed Mrs. O's shoulder, wrinkling her pretty blouse in the process. “This isn't the time for girl talk.”

I looked at Mrs. O. This conversation really wasn't about my karate class attendance. This was about the gun-toting idiot standing in front of us and staying alive. She looked at hercrinkled shirt and frowned, then turned her eyes to me and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

I held up my hands in surrender. “Okay, fine. She's right, I don't know karate.” I tried to look dejected, which wasn't too hard after the past few days.

Laurel smiled wickedly.

I pointed at Mrs. O. “But she does.”

And with those words, Mrs. O spun out of the man's grasp, catching him completely off-guard and had him slumped unconscious on the ground before I could take a breath. Or duck.

Mrs. O grabbed the gun away from his limp fingers, and then glanced at me, a victorious smile on her face.

Goldie came around the counter with a pair of pink faux-fur lined handcuffs, Veronica holding up George by the ankles like he was a bat, as if ready to take a swing at the man's head. Goldie handed me the cuffs and I put them on the guy. It wasn't the best look, but if it worked for BDSM, it would work for a bad guy. Veronica let out a deep breath and gave up on her softball stance as she put George back on the counter.

I smiled at Mrs. O. “I told Mike you could take someone down with the Vulcan death grip...or whatever that was. That was awesome. Think you could teach it to me?”

The police stormedthrough the door before we even had a chance to call them, Mike following a minute behind.

“Jesus, Vi, what the hell?” he asked, flustered.

“Long story. Your mom took him down.”

The police were replacing the pink handcuffs with real ones and nudging the guy back from unconsciousness.

“Violet was wonderful. She talked a crazy man down,” Mrs. O told Mike, beaming.

I shook my head. “No, your mom was great. She did that thing”—I did a pinching motion like a lobster claw with my fingers—“and the guy slumped to the ground.”

“I got off the plane and listened to your crazy voice message,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I was finding your number in my contact list when you called. I swear I aged ten years. What the hell is going on?”

We all took turns filling him in on the necklace mix-up. I pulled it from my pocket and dangled it from my fingers. Mike lifted the cross and looked it over.

“It's heavy, but if there's a ruby in there, it's hidden well.”

Eager to be rid of the cursed necklace, I handed it off to the policeman.

“Enough about the necklace,” Goldie said. “Where on earth have you been, young man?” Clearly the fake FBI guy was old news.

“New York. After your confusing conversation about your sister wearing a dress, then just a little while ago when I talked to you, I called the police and floored it over here.”

“I'm just glad you got here,” Mrs. O told her son, giving his arm a quick squeeze.

Veronica was cornered, giving her statement but gave me a thumbs up behind Mike's back. I just rolled my eyes in reply.

“Mrs. O, I'm sorry I switched with my sister for your class,” I said, my voice contrite.

Mrs. O just stood there assessing me, a small smile on her face. “Thank you, Violet, for saying that. It's not every child who has a twin who can stand in for them.” She looked at me, then at Mike. “Your sister is lovely, but I likeyou.I always have. You were feisty and creative with your smarts. Like your book.”

Crap. I'd forgotten all about the book. Who would remember a book when a gun was pointed at you?

“You're your own person. Doing what makes you happy. I like that about you.Besides, ever since you two were in high school, I've known you were the one for Mike.”

Mike's mouth fell open, but she held up her hand.

---