Page 6 of S.O.S. Billboard

“Nope.”

O’Shea loved Mizzay’s Bronx accent. It made itself known sporadically, when Mizzay felt it appropriate. Regardless, she was always a ball-buster.

O’Shea continued. “But I have some of Boston’s finest here with me now, and they are, umm, questioning my actions. So I thought—”

“Youze put them on the phone right now,” Mizzay demanded, not letting O’Shea finish. “I’ll take care of those guyz.”

O’Shea somehow managed to keep a straight face as she proffered her phone to Murphy. “My, uh, friend wants to talk to you.”

Murphy took the phone. “Officer Theodore Murphy here. Who am I speaking to?”

Of course, the asshole would dangle a preposition.

O’Shea watched the cop’s face as he nodded, and nodded again, then saw the color leach from his cheeks. She had no idea what Mizzay was saying, but Murphy’s Adam’s Apple bobbed convulsively several times before he eventually cleared his throat.

“Of course. I understand,” he choked out. Another twenty seconds passed, after which he seemed to agree with whatever else Mizzay was telling him. “We’ll get things cleared up here so that Ms. O’Shea can be on her way.”

O’Shea wanted to crow, but held in her glee. There was no need to get the guy all faché’d

now that he’d been verbally emasculated by the inimitable Mizzay.

Without saying goodbye, he held the phone out, and O’Shea took it.

“We all set?” she asked Mizzay.

“We better be,” the woman growled, “or Officah Murphy is gonna find himself working Internal Affayahs.”

O’Shea coughed. Internal Affairs was the shittiest assignment a cop could pull. It was solitary, it was boring, and higher ups could assign the job to an officer for however long they wanted. Murphy clearly didnotwant to go there.

“Thanks, Mizzay.” Relief flooded her system. “I’ll see you soon. Once things wrap up here, I’m headed to my hotel, then I’ll eventually connect with Brigid. Maybe I’ll take you up on that night on the town in Boston instead of on my home turf in case anybody else might like to join us. I’ll bet you know some great places.”

“Youze better believe it, doll. I know all the spots,” Mizzay answered drolly, but unfortunately, she didn’t take the hint about others in the SOS office tagging along.

Damn.A girl could hope.

O’Shea had already admitted to herself that the draw she felt to Boston wasn’t just because of Brigid.

There was one frustrating but intriguing member of the SOS team who had caught her eye last year, and hadn’t left her brain, since.

Sure, nothing—at that time—had come of her attraction to Billboard. He’d seemed almost…clueless that she was interested. But at the time, she’d cut him some slack. He’d been completely focused on the job at hand. She understood that, and had loved his dedication to duty, however…

Was it too much to hope that she might draw his attention now that she was in his city?

CHAPTER THREE

The trail was becoming fresher, and if Billboard wasn’t mistaken, he was closing in. Ethan was probably hiding, and watching him approach.

Billboard had grown more and more intrigued with the boy’s brain as the day wore on, having avoided a few more, simple traps along the meandering route on which he’d been led. One concocted hazard, if he’d stumbled into it, would have had him covered in stinging nettles. Another, a viney-lasso of sorts, had been set up to hook around someone’s feet and yank them skyward.

Billboard chuckled. He’d avoided both, which had been a blessing considering the nettles, but if he’d stepped into the well-disguised loop, it wouldn’t have done anything. His weight would have kept his large-assed-body on terra firma despite the boy’s best efforts.

Billboard slowed his steps as he moved closer to where he believed his quarry was obscured. How should he play this? Should he just overtake the boy, grab him, then read him the riot act before bringing him back to his distraught mother? Or should he appeal to Ethan’s vanity, talk loudly about how smart the kid was and how BB was currently stymied as to what he should do, next?

Billboard paused. If it were him as a youngster…

Yup.Acknowledgment.That’s what he would have wanted.

Billboard found a large rock and sat down, seemingly contemplative. “Ethan?” he called out. “I know you’re nearby. I can read your trail. But you didn’t make it easy. I have to give you enormous kudos. If I hadn’t been a highly trained, military tracker, I wouldn’t have been able to follow you,andI’dprobably be covered in sticker-burs to go along with the goose-egg on the back of my head from falling into your pit. By the way,” he added, “I’m Billboard, and your mother hired me to find you.”

---