Page 132 of The Reluctant Hero

His expression before he left me on that couch makes a very convincing argument.

“Yeah,” I mutter.

I scowl all the way back to my apartment.

My pacing gives me a good workout but no bright ideas. Shit, I’m handing the baton over. They’re better suited to this than I am.

I pull out my phone and hesitate.

Jake has the phones. The only number I have saved is Mikael’s and Ace’s for emergencies. Ace insisted. It’s Saturday and the likelihood of Harriette being able to patch me to Gabriel is at a zero. My cheeks burn as my thoughts go back to yesterday.

I can’t call him. Not yet. Ace will have to do.

It rings a few times and then kicks me to voicemail. I don’t want to leave a vague message about this, so I hang up and try Mikael without thinking.

The number rings once, and then I get a busy tone. Jake may have turned it off.

I’ll have to try again later. Even if it’s Jake that answers it’s good enough. He’s won me over, and I didn’t realize it until now.

In the meantime, I’m stuck going over everything in a useless circle that won’t stop.

29

Kool-Aid

Justin Blake

My secretary gets up from the floor as I zip my pants up.

“Fix your makeup,” I cringe at the clown effect of her red lipstick smeared everywhere.

She gives me a smirk and sashays out as if she’s won something for swallowing my load.

My cell rings, and I glance at the caller ID.

Janette. It’s Sunday. She should have called meyesterdaywith an update. The petty piece of shit that did the drive-by threat didn’t get a good look at Amanda before he drove away. He’s a fucking drug dealer. You’d think he would have more balls.

“About time,” I answer angrily.

“Fuck. You.”

I blink at her enraged tone. What’s up her ass today?

“What’s Amanda’s status.” How terrified is she now? There’s no way she can handle as much pressure as she’s getting. The theft happened on Friday. How quickly did that idiotic bravado last for her? Did they beat the shit out of her? I can’t wait to hear this!

“Are you serious?” Her voice has dropped to a whisper. “Is that all you care about? That fatcow?”

“The cow I’m divorcing,” I remind her. She has no idea that I’m using her to keep an eye on Amanda, not for a divorce. I’m waiting for her to tell me how pathetic she is without her support.

“Well,” her tone turns bitterly sly. “She showed up yesterday, all right.”

“With him?” I ask and hold my breath.

“Alone,” she snaps.

“Was she beat up?” I can’t hide my excitement. I clear my throat to restore my tone.

“What? No!” She sounds shocked at the question.

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