Page 9 of Dirty Ex-Mas
“I’m so glad,” she says drily.
“When can I start?”
“What’s wrong with now?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. You are absolutely the best, you know that?” I lean over the bar to hug her.
“Great,” she says. “You can start by grabbing a tank from my office to change into, then clean the men’s restroom.”
Gross.
“Hmm, are you sure you want me to start right now?”
She points a finger toward the rear of the building instead of responding.
“Okay.” I hold my hands up in surrender and set off to do her dirty work. Pun intended.
3
Mack
Reed steps outside to make a call and I continue talking to Paula’s mother, Mrs. Nelson. It’s clear by her lack of response that she doesn’t want to talk to us, or else she really knows nothing. I’m hoping to get more out of her daughter when she finally makes an appearance.
I glance outside to see if I can gauge how much longer Reed will be. Something’s going on in pretty boy’s mind because he’s pacing back and forth along the front walk. His shiny black dress shoes glinting in the sun while his tie blows to the side of his chest from the slight breeze in the air.
I can see why ladies sometimes feel more comfortable talking to him, especially in abduction or sex related cases. He’s a clean cut, lean muscled, suit-wearing, book-smart, too pretty for his own good, poster boy for the FBI. His fingernails are never dirty underneath and his hair never needs a trim.
I’m about as opposite from that as you can get.
So, when it’s a choice between the two of us, he’s the one they gravitate toward. He’s got the softer voice and better rapport. But just so we’re clear, I’m the better shot. And in the face of danger, it’s me they hide behind.
I try to catch his eye as he comes back in the house. “Sorry about that,” he says, avoiding my gaze and directing his comment to Mrs. Nelson. He holds his tie to his stomach as he sits. Paula chooses that time to come downstairs.
“Mom?” she asks about Reed’s and my presence as she reaches the bottom of the stairwell, dressed in sweatpants and a loose T-shirt, her long hair still wet from her shower.
“Paula, these gentlemen are from the FBI and want to ask you a few questions about your abduction. I haven’t told them anything.”
Paula frowns at her. “Well, you could have. You know everything that happened.”
“It’s not my story to tell,” Mrs. Nelson replies.
Paula takes a seat on the couch next to her mom. “I already told the police everything that happened.”
“Sometimes it helps to go over it again, little things can come back to you. Things you may not even realize you’d forgotten.” Reed smiles warmly as he talks to her and she visibly relaxes into the cushions of the couch.
“Well, it was like I told the police before, I met this guy for drinks—”
“How did you meet him?” Reed interrupts.
“On that app, Honey Pot, it’s a real dating app, not one of those hookup sites just for sex.”
Reed nods and makes some notes in his little pad of paper he always carries with him. “And what name did he go by on the app?”
“Jacob.”
“Any last name?”
“They don’t list last names for privacy reasons.” She blushes slightly.
