Page 122 of The Wicked

This was Lewis? Garrett had asked me if I minded his old friend coming to stay for a few weeks, and of course I’d said it was okay, but holy heck, he’d said nothing about him being so easy on the eye. Lewis shook hands with all three of us, and Brooke kept staring, even though she was nearly married. Being that handsome couldn’t be healthy. What if he distracted a driver? Or caused someone to walk into a wall?

He stepped backward and landed squarely on Blue’s foot, and it seemed one of us at least was immune to his charms.

“Watch where you’re going, asshole.”

Garrett’s smile grew wider. “And this is Blue. She’s a real ray of sunshine.”

“Shut up,” she growled as she took a seat.

“Bad day?” Brooke asked.

“I saw my ex outside court, and my stun gun was out of battery.”

Lewis’s eyes widened, and he took another step back. This time, he nearly took out a waitress, but fortunately, she was quick on her feet and hopped sideways.

“Damn, I do apologise.” He steadied her, and she practically swooned. “Nice to meet you folks.”

“He’s so pretty,” Addy said wistfully as the two men walked away. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

Blue snorted. “Pretty clumsy. Do you really need to go to the bathroom, or do you just want to stare at his ass for a while longer?”

“I plead the Fifth.”

Addy got up carefully and headed after Lewis as Blue snorted.

“She must be feeling better if she’s hunting dick again. Anyone want to share a bottle of wine, or should I drink it all myself?”

“Isn’t it a bit early for that?”

“Somewhere in the world, it’s happy hour.”

In New York, in fact. I’d barely taken a sip of my rosé when Gracie phoned.

“Did you see the news?” she asked.

“No, I’m in a restaurant.”

“Find a TV. Then find a bottle of champagne.” She gave a long exhale. “My gosh, I can’t believe it’s over.”

“What’s over? What do you mean?”

I found out two minutes later when Blue convinced the bartender to hand over the remote. It didn’t take much channel-hopping to land on the news.

Police have released the name of the man killed in a fiery crash in northern Virginia last night. Graham Mandell, who served the people of Oregon in Congress for the past twenty years, left the road in what is understood to be a single-car accident. The late-model Lexus was found by a passing motorist, and although emergency services were fast to arrive on the scene, it was sadly too late for the occupant of the vehicle. During his time on Capitol Hill, Congressman Mandell put forward a number of bills to…

I tuned out the reporter. Mandell was dead? Really gone? Holy heck. Brooke looked as shocked as I felt, but Blue’s expression was more admiration than anything else.

“That…is fucked up. And also damned impressive.”

As the details began to sink in, I had to agree. Mandell had left the road in northern Virginia, the same way as my parents had, and the Bad Samaritan had made my mom’s last wish come true. He’d burned. Was that a coincidence, or was the Bad Samaritan psychic as well as smart and deadly? I was shaking. I was actually shaking.

And relieved.

And free.

I waved the bartender across. “Please could you bring a bottle of your best champagne?”

Gracie was right. It was over.

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