Page 81 of Fiona and the Fixer

I pointed to the drug package. “Take it to the Coal Springs police and let them deal with it.”

“The police?” She popped to her feet, pulled up her panties, then her pants with a little wriggling. “I’m sure the two people who make up the entire department are qualified and all for monitoring a parade, stopping traffic for a herd of elk or catching jaywalkers, but this is a big drug ring.”

I wanted to tell her we could simply drive down the alley and toss the plastic bag filled with Fentanyl at the back door of the pickle place, but they had her photo. Knew she was a snoop.

Plus, I didn’t want anyone besides the drug guys to find a bag filled with pills, especially kids.

I had no fucking clue what to do here. Fiona had opened up to me, fucking finally. Yet I was fucking stuck. Her actions put me in a fuck-all situation.

While I was telling Fiona to let me help her bring down the pickle people, I was now working for them. To fix a problem: her.

The woman on my lap.

The woman I’d fallen for.

The woman who’d stolen their fucking drugs.

When they found out some were missing and she wasthe culprit, it wasn’t going to be a fix job. It was going to be a hit.

We had to take down the pickle people. There was no other option to keep her alive.

As a fixer, I could’ve kept Fiona in bed–literally tied to the headboard–to keep her away from the pickle store and her nose out of their business. That was all the client wanted. To be left alone without anyone snooping around. Non-stop sex was a great fix.

Except, everything changed when she went rogue and took their drugs. Now it wasn’t some random woman looking too closely at a pickle shop. She knew what they were doing and had proof of it. She wasn’t going to let this drop. Neither were the pickle people.

I needed help. There was only one person to call, and he was going to be pissed as hell.

36

DAX

Call me.

Why? I’m eating mango under a palapas and staring at my woman in a bikini.

I’m in love with an FBI agent.

That worked.

His name came up on my cell within fifteen seconds.

37

FIONA

After the partially naked,come-to-Jesus conversation with Dax, I headed to the bookstore’s bathroom to clean up. On the way, I couldn’t miss the look of the woman who’d been conscripted into running the store while we… God, had very noisy sex on Hannah’s desk. She and anyone else in the store had to think I had a spanking kink. Which I guessed I did. No one needed bionic hearing to get an earful.

Yet from her spot behind the counter, she grinned and gave me a thumbs up. “Best soundtrack for a romance bookstore. Sold over fifteen books since you two went in there!”

Okay, then.

I stared at myself in the mirror. Saw the red rimmed eyes.

I’d cried. A lot. I’d been a blubbering mess. The last thing a guy wanted after sex. That and the verbal diarrhea where I told him about my dad.

Except he hadn’t run. He hadn’t laughed or told me how cold blooded I was. He’d saidThat’s really fucking good, sweetheart.

Good that I put my father in prison.

---