Page 14 of A Very Un-Shakespeare Romance
Billie extended his bottle in Tim’s direction. “That’s you, Shakespeare.”
“Great, I have a new nickname,” Tim said sarcastically. “How nice for me.”
Robbie put his hand on Billie’s arm before he could volley back. “We should get a few baseball bats, though. Couple easy window and door security devices. Just in case.”
“You kept your gun, right?” Billie asked, shoving his hand off.
“Yeah, I told Roland I wanted to keep it with me even though I handed over my phone.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “God…I’ve never gone to IA before.”
But sitting in that garage, he’d known that was his best play. He couldn’t very well take the dirty cash with him. So he’d turned it in to Internal Affairs along with Tara’s letter, which both proclaimed her innocence and suggested there was someone dirty in the department. He’d brought his partner in for backup and as a witness, knowing he could trust Mickey Evans with his life as well as his reputation.
When questioned, Mickey would echo what Robbie had told his supervisor on the call he’d made from the burner phone while in the toy store—that he needed to take a sudden vacation to take care of a family matter. They could speculate to high heaven what that family matter was, but they wouldn’t hear it from any of the O’Connors.
The good thing about going to IA was that they didn’t have to share details with the rest of the department. This way they could start looking into who was on the Kellys’ payroll without alerting the guilty parties. The Kellys would likely guess he was off helping Tara and the girls, but they might not know they’d gone separate ways. He hoped they would think twice about pursuing a cop and would instead use their resources to find Scotty and his new girlfriend, seeing as he was their point of contact.
“You were smart to ask Mickey to come along earlier.” Billie pulled off his boots and tossed them to the side with a thunk. “Better to have a witness when you’re turning in dirty money.”
“That was the plan,” he said, grimacing. “It made me feel sick, knowing Tara’s going to have to be cleared of this.”
Billie’s face turned downright ferocious. “When I think about what Scotty’s done—”
“We all have our thoughts on that,” Tim said quietly, “but that’s another thing you don’t want to say in case the girls overhear you. They don’t have the maturity to see things as they are.”
“Tara gave them a good story,” Robbie told them. “Enough believable details with a lot of girl power stuff. But Tim’s right. We need to keep our thoughts to ourselves.”
“So the plan is to lay low until something breaks and give the girls a good time.” Billie slapped his knees.
“Billie, for the love of Pete,” Tim moaned.
“Robbie, you are so going to owe me for all the hearts I’m breaking while I’m gone.” He pushed off the couch. “Hey, maybe I’ll get lucky down here. There have to be some single women looking to have a good time, right?”
“I’ll make a list of fun things we can do with the kids in the area,” Tim volunteered. “And I’m not sure this is your usual brotherly beer, boats, and babes kind of vacation.”
“No, it’s not.” Robbie was going to make another list. They had to beef up their physical security. And they needed a boat. There were limited ways to leave the Outer Banks. If something happened—and he hoped to God it didn’t—they needed to be ready to take an alternate route out.
“Why are you guys still awake?”
He swung his head to the right. Reagan stood in the clothes she’d fallen asleep in, her new Barbie in her hand. Her second bow of the day lay like a flapjack against her right ear, and she had a pillow crease on her cute little face.
“We’re night owls,” Billie said, standing up. “Hoot hoot. Come on, let’s tuck you back into bed.”
“Can Robbie do it?” she asked softly.
He pushed Billie out of his way as he stood up, surprised. She wanted him? “Ah, sure thing.”
“You want to change into your pajamas first, Miss Pixie?” Tim asked. Thank God, because it hadn’t even occurred to Robbie.
“Yes, please, and brush my hair.” She pulled the bow out and winced. “The tangles are going to be terrible.”
Billie slapped him on the back. “Robbie’s specialty. Untangling things. Shakespeare, let’s head up too.”
“I’ll grab my bag and Robbie’s,” Tim said as Robbie shuffled forward in his socks. “We’ll pick the rooms. Any dealbreakers?”
“A hole in the roof?” Billie bandied back.
Robbie ignored their antics and tried to smile at Reagan. She looked terribly small and tired.
“With this luxury four-bedroom, you’re covered,” Tim replied, heading to the front door where they’d dumped the bags. And the cat, who had disappeared the moment they’d arrived in the house, something he hoped would continue, especially since Tim thought the cat blamed him for its current predicament.
