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“Either you have the largest lady-balls I’ve ever seen or you’ve made what could be a fatal error in judgment. I guess time will tell.” Walter dipped his scruffy chin in farewell but stopped and looked back at me. “What does the fox say?”
I scanned my memory banks for some coded message I was supposed to know but came up with nothing.
“Huh?”
“Ring-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding! Gering-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding!” he sang as he walked away.
Bastard.
Ten minutes later my head was bobbing to the beat of what was quite possibly the most annoying song ever released.
An hour later, sitting in a luxurious bath full of bubbles with a glass of red wine balancing on the edge of the tub, I was still humming. Ring-ding-ding-dammit.
Ass. Hole.
So much for relaxing when I couldn’t stop the refrain of nonsensical sounds from invading my mind.
SEVEN
Pounding on my front door woke me up. With a quick look at my alarm clock, I snatched my Glock off my nightstand and rolled out of bed.
Nothing good comes in the form of a middle of the night visitor. I was almost to my bedroom door when my ringing phone had me retracing my steps.
Zane’s name on my phone in the middle of the night was worse than an unexpected visitor.
“What’s going on? Someone’s at my door,” I told him.
“That’s me,” he grunted.
Okay, I’d been wrong, the worst thing that could happen was Zane pounding on your door in the middle of the night. That meant whatever it was, was bad enough he dragged his ass out of bed leaving his wife in that bed. There were very few things that would pull Zane from Ivy. None of them would be good.
I disconnected the call, tossed the phone on my bed, kept the gun, and made my way through my townhouse.
I checked the peephole, saw Zane angrily staring at the door.
“I know you’re looking at me, asshole. Open up.”
Once I had the door open Zane wasted no time barreling through with none other than Charlie Michaels on his heels.
What the actual fuck?
“Smith’s on his way over,” Zane announced like it wasn’t after three in the morning and my teammate was coming over for a beer.
“Why’s he here?” I asked instead of asking what I really wanted to know—where was Nebraska and was she all right.
“He’s concerned Nebraska’s walking into a trap.”
In true Zane fashion he walked to my couch, sat down uninvited, and left Charlie standing in the foyer.
“Have a seat,” I begrudgingly offered. “I’ll make coffee.”
My condo had an open floor plan—at least that’s what the real estate agent called it when she was giving me her sales pitch. I called it one big room with a bedroom and bathroom off the living room. The realtor used that as a selling point, too, a downstairs master. All that meant to me was I didn’t have to drag my laundry down a flight of stairs. But it’s biggest advantage at the moment was I could make coffee and still see Zane lounging and Charlie stiffly sitting on my couch since the kitchen was unobstructed.
“Wanna fill me in on what’s going on?” I prompted as I pulled yesterday’s grinds out of the basket.
“Ole Charlie here came bearing gifts,” Zane started.
I didn’t get the chance to ask why Charlie chose a middle-of-the-night visit to deliver whatever he wanted to give Zane before there was another knock.
