Page 103 of Fiona and the Fixer

“I’m a little eccentric,” she admitted.

I laughed at how she described herself and perhaps for the first time, the sound was deep and real. Something shook loose and this…this…THIS was what I’d been looking for coming to Coal Springs.

A break.

A quiet place–that wasn’t all that quiet–where I could be me.

The person who wasn’t saving me from the town’s overeager women, but from myself.

I just didn’t know it was in a person, not a place.

Fiona was my home.

She loved me. I had her in my arms. It was enough.

51

FIONA

Maybe it wasbecause I was now hyper-focused on Dax.

Maybe it was because he’d texted Jack and Hannah and they were bringing donuts to the house. I loved a good donut.

Either way, I didn’t hear the pickle people in my house before we went inside. Or, because they were sitting at the kitchen island eating Dottie’s leftover spaghetti and meat sauce. It was hard for them to talk with their mouths full.

All I could think of when they stood, picked up the guns they had resting on the countertop and aimed them at us was that this vacation rental had shit locks.

52

DAX

I lost my edge.Had hearts for eyeballs and hadn’t noticed my surroundings. I was pissed because the pickle people–Mr. Leather Jacket and I assumed his associate–were pointing guns at my woman. Not only that, but they were also eatingmyleftovers.

They were going down.

53

FIONA

“You’ve causeda lot of problems, lady,” Leather Jacket said, dropping his dirty fork on the counter. He had spaghetti sauce on his cheek.

The other guy was quiet, clearly the backup singer in this two-person band. Typical thug look. Late thirties. Bald. Like an overweight Kojak and cranky about being interrupted having Dax’s pasta.

I shrugged at them both. “You’re breaking the law.”

Leather Jacket shifted his gaze to Dax. “You’re supposed to fix her, not fuck her.”

Dax bristled for a second, then gave a sly smile. “A good fixer does both.”

Leather Jacket and Backup Singer looked from him tome. Then offered up those sleazy smiles misogynistic men had when they felt like they had the upper hand.

They were morons.

“You were in the store with her the other day,” Leather Jacket said. “You’re working together.”

“No way.” Dax shrugged, tipped his head my way and gave me his blue eyes. “Sorry, babycakes.”Babycakes?Dax didn’t stop with that fun new term of endearment. “I’ve known all along you were FBI.”

Oh. Gotcha. I could play along. He wanted them to know I was law enforcement so he could–what?

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