Page 47 of Billion-Dollar Attitudes

I groaned. "Okay, thank you."

It just didn't get any better. I took a deep breath and picked up the phone. "This is Ryder."

"Well, hello there, leather and lace."

I rolled my eyes. "Amber. What can I do for you?"

"So, I have been informed that we have been put together for this party for the kids. I figured if you aren't terribly busy shining the chrome on your bike, you could meet me after work. The Tilted Martini is the perfect place for a drink to discuss our unlikely pairing."

I looked at my schedule, and to my dismay, it was open. "As long as it doesn't interfere with your weekly facelift."

"No, no, that's Tuesdays," she said sarcastically. "I figured you had some sort of rally or something to go to with all the old men, you know, to get pointers on your future long white beard and pot belly, but if you don't, this would be a good time to chat."

"I can definitely put off sewing more patches on my vest for this," I replied, smirking.

I kind of liked bickering with her. She got under my skin, and I knew from her tone I got under hers.

"Excellent. Shall we say six?"

"Sounds good to me," I replied.

"Good. I won't keep you out long. I'm sure you have some bar made out of barn wood with great dollar beer specials to get to later."

I shook my head. "You know me so well."

We hung up, and I caught myself smiling, quickly taking that look off my face. There was nothing cute about that woman, or so I told myself at the time. I wasn't sure why I let her get to me. I was always good at just brushing people off.

The intercom buzzed again. "I'm sorry, but you have another call. It's line two. The person didn't give his name, but he said it was about the investigation. So I figured you'd want to take it."

"Thanks."

I pressed line two and picked it up. "Carter, what's happening?"

"This isn't Carter," the voice said. "Carter's a nice guy. He tries hard. He really does."

The sound of the voice on the other line was altered, deep in tone, obviously using something to mask it. I slid forward in my chair, glancing up at the closed door. "Okay, who is this?"

"Did you like my engagement present? I know you aren't the betrothed, but I didn't want you to feel left out."

It was him. I looked around for my phone, patting my jacket pockets.

"Don't worry about calling anyone, Ryder. I'll be brief."

"What do you want?"

"Well, if I told you that, you'd have a motive. I don't think I'll make it that easy for you. Do you know what I always liked?"

"Torturing cats?"

He fakely chuckled. "Nursery rhymes. And I have one for you."

"Okay, what is it?" I started jotting down the conversation, so I didn't forget anything.

"Not yet," he said. "But soon. You'll know when you see it."

"Look, you sonofabitch," I growled.

The line went dead.

---