Page 21 of Fiona and the Fixer

“I’m running a romance bookstore.”

The silence lasted long enough where I pulled the cell from my ear to see if we’d been disconnected.

“Even worse. Did you fall and hit your head? Seeing things? Being delusional is a sign of a brain bleed.”

“No,” I said immediately, but then I looked up and saw the two women peeking over the bookshelf, eyeing me. When we made eye contact, they ducked down. Then there was giggling and chatter. “Maybe. I got wrangled into working at Hannah’s store.”

Now he laughed. “I’ve got to see this.”

“Come on up,” I said, meaning drive up from Denver where he lived and worked in an old, converted warehouse.

I continued to push various buttons. Weird words came on the screen and a few symbols that looked an awful lot like HAZMAT warning signs. “I need you to get this register working because otherwise I’m going to have to take cash only for sales and put it in a box like a lemonade stand.”

“Describe it to me.”

“It’s the fancy computer kind coffee shops use that makes no sense.”

“Oh, a point of service.”

“Whatever,” I huffed. “I can’t fix it with my garden shears, so I’m stuck.”

A woman in black leggings and a snug t-shirt that said Powered By Yoga pushed through the door in a mad dash like she was escaping from a dangerous clown or something. When she saw me, her mouth dropped open.

“Hi. Welcome in,” I said, phone to my ear.

She licked her lips and nodded, then headed to the back where the other two women were.

“Is it turned on? Plugged in?” Nitro asked.

“Yes,” I muttered. “I can deactivate a bomb, remember.”

“Because I talked you through it over the phone, James Bond.”

Three more women came in. Looked at me, then spread out and scoped out the books on the various displays.

I didn’t stay alive as a fixer without knowing my surroundings. Two exits, front and back. Potential threats were now spread out around the store, all eyeing me inways that made me confident none worked for the CIA. They were blatant… and giggly.

“Fine, then walk me through this,” I said, trying not to just tell the women to cover for me and make a run for it. I explained the reason to Nitro. “If I fuck up Hannah’s store, it’s going to be worse than the beat down I got in Ecuador from that band of paid street thugs.”

“Hit sale and–”

The bell jangled again, and I said “Welcome in” without looking up right away. When I did, it wasanotherwoman frozen in place and staring at me.

This time, it wasn’t in a way that silently told me—like the first ladies—that I could have a three-way with her and her friend. No.

It was the woman from the convenience store.Her.

My latest obsession.

I was instantly hard.

10

FIONA

“You,”I breathed.

The last place,the absolutelast,I ever expected to see Mr. Suit was in a romance bookstore.

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