Page 51 of Fiona and the Fixer

Interestingly–and annoyingly–I had bigger problems to worry about than pickle people. I had women problems. Yes, plural. The women of Coal Springs were either ridiculously bored, or they needed to get laid and get laid really, really well. Probably both.

Based on the sheer quantity of customers–practically all women–Hannah had a gold mine with her store. Bychance, I’d seen Fiona walk into the pickle shop and had told the women to hold down the fort while I stepped out. I’d given a wink to seal the deal and went to tackle my girl and her obsession with pickles. I highly doubted they were going to steal from Hannah while I was out.

When I returned with Fiona, the shop was, if possible, even busier. I went behind the counter, again using the three feet of hardwood and laminate as protection.

What the hell happened to the break that Jack told me I needed and could get in Coal Springs? Pancake didn’t give a shit about me other than that I fed him and got a few pets before he went off and did his own thing, which was good because I was too fucking busy to entertain him more than that.

I had a fake girlfriend who worked for the FBI. Whose partner planned to frame her with planted evidence.

A meddling senior citizen chef who was retired from an admin job at the police station.

Pickle people who were doing shady shit right across the street that, based on the FUCKERS OF COAL SPRINGS list of Jack’s, weren’t on his radar yet.

A job at a local bookstore that had me reading anal sex scenes to horny women.

I needed a break from my break.

Fiona leaned against the counter beside me and stared at the crowd with wide eyed fascination. “I had no idea romance books were such big business,” she murmured. “Good for Hannah.”

A woman came to the counter with three books and a brazen smile. “I’m Kate.”

“He’s taken,” Fiona offered, setting a proprietary hand on my shoulder.

The smile slipped, but she replied, “Lucky you.”

I knew the register well enough by now to quickly finalize her sale.

“Thank you,” I whispered, right before another woman approached to pay. Fortunately, she didn’t introduce herself, proposition me or hand me her number. She only used her cell to tap the payment, so it went fast.

“Dottie’s dinner. I’m in this for Dottie’s food,” Fiona reminded.

My cell rang and I saw the name that was displayed.Fuck.

“Hello,” I said.

“You’re late,” Bones Biggles snapped.

He was a loan shark with a dumbass name. He was also feared, which had me wonder why people borrowed money from him they often couldn’t repay. For the past five years, it’d been my job for him to collect this money or make them pay with something else. Like fingers.

“Shit,” I muttered, having missed my usual drop-off time. I forgot all about it with the anal sex reading.

“Shit? What the hell does that mean? You in the hospital or dyin’ or somethin’?”

I hadn’t once missed a meeting with him. I was diligent. Consistent. And ruthless enough to satisfy him. That was why he wondered after my health.

“Something,” I replied, flicking my gaze to Fiona, who was watching closely, although she couldn’t hear Bones’ side of the conversation.

The last thing I needed was an FBI agent who picked up the scent of illegal activity like a bloodhound to put Bones under surveillance, too.

“Be there soon.” I didn’t wait for him to say more and hung up.

I had to go to Denver. The only pickup I had to handle today was Jimmy McFee. Hopefully, when I stopped at his bar, he’d have the latest installment of his gambling debt because I didn’t have my garden shears with me. I’d only had to take one of his fingers with them before he got the memo that he really did have to pay the money back.

“What’s going on?” Fiona asked.

I flicked my gaze her way. That damn curiosity couldn’t be missed. “I have to go to Denver.”

“Now?” She looked around. “Why?”

---