Page 29 of Booked for Murder

I’m picking a family car.

Ren waited at the entry of my apartment building, leaning against the brick with a disinterested expression, although he kept an eye on Bradley’s car, which gave me pause.

I remembered it well, as it had been my favorite of them all, a cherry red Ferrari he’d gotten because I’d broken my professionalism long enough to openly admire it. The vehicle itself had been my choosing as well, as he’d caught me in the evening flipping through a magazine and drooling all over it.

It’s older brother, in a color Bradley liked better, with different bells and whistles, had been the one to cost me everything.

It was a lot like running into an old friend on the street after years apart.

“He thought you’d come to see me at some point.”

I snorted at that. “Only because he’s dying in my bathroom because he thought it was a good idea to try orange chicken the way I like it. It’s the restaurant he likes best, and when he orders the orange chicken, the owners try to beat me. He’ll have to go back and tell them to try again, too. It was so hot he needed milk and sugar to make the burn tolerable.”

Ren sighed. “I warned him it was not wise.”

Shrugging, I rested more of my weight on my cane, regarding the old car. “I’m surprised he hasn’t gotten rid of this one yet.”

“It’s his preferred vehicle.”

Poor car. “How many miles has he put on her?”

“She has a hundred and fifty thousand miles. She’s a record; most of her make and model last to fifty before they’re put out of their misery and put aside for something new. She costs him fifty thousand a month in tires, oil changes, and general maintenance.”

Ouch. While his wallet could handle it, I didn’t envy him or the dealership for trying to keep her in perfect working order. “Are we going to have a problem? Your name is Ren, right?”

“Yes, my name is Ren. No, of course we won’t have a problem. Unless you want a problem, then I would be pleased to be as problematic as you’d enjoy. You’re one of his interests, which makes you one of my interests, and I’m concerned about your general protection with your foot in that condition.”

Oh, great. Just what I needed. Another man determined to hover and act like I couldn’t handle myself. “Can we have a problem when he’s around? That could be interesting. If you try to act like I’m a body to guard, I will have a real problem, so if you want to try that bullshit, cover it doing something else.”

If Bradley ordered Ren to treat me like a body to keep nice and safe, we’d have an ongoing feud, but I’d be able to handle it. Maybe.

I could maybe handle it without practicing my exsanguination skills on him. After a moment of consideration, if Ren did decide I needed to be protected, I could use him as my personal physical therapy regime, as it would take a lot of work from me to ditch an unwanted bodyguard.

“If that would please you.”

I couldn’t tell which part of my statement he replied to, which would make my life entertaining as I navigated Bradley-infested waters. “I will not be shy about complaining I did your job better than you do it. I feel a need to establish how our relationship will go.”

How he reacted to my statement would tell me a great deal about him.

Ren smiled. “According to your record, it would be quite challenging to do the job better than you when you were in your prime. I can’t help but notice you’d be incapable of passing the physical in your current condition.”

“Yeah. That’s a problem. I’d like to solve that problem, although not to return to that shit job. Your job? It’s a shit job.”

“I’m not on a for life contract, and I’m paid very well for my work. I do live in the Hampton residence, but you might be interested in knowing that I do not use your old room. Frankly spoken, Mr. Hampton is very unreasonable about you in general. Your room is intact, and he has learned how to clean to professional quality because he will not allow anyone else in.”

I would need time to consider that new piece of intel. While I did that, I’d have to slip Ren notes on the appropriate doctors to handle Bradley’s problems. The Bradley I knew treated cleaning as something that might kill him if he needed to stoop to such a level. For him to clean someone else’s property of his own volition? He needed an entire team of doctors to sort him out. “Survivor’s guilt?”

“To a degree. Most of his guilt was assuaged through the reality he walked, and while critically injured, you survived. No one else involved did. The latest turn in the situation will further improve his situation.”

While I had known at least one had died in the crash, I hadn’t been aware everyone in the other vehicle had perished. “Would you have done the same, Ren?”

“I couldn’t have done the same. I am nowhere near as skilled a driver as you are. While I’m capable of handling his vehicles, I do not indulge in the type of driving you enjoyed.” Ren cast the old, red car a glare. “If you could kindly flip through a magazine and admire something a little more modern, we would be most appreciative.”

“We as in which we? The bodyguard team or the Hampton family?”

“Both. Please include Mr. Hampton’s wallet in those who would be appreciative. This vehicle is not easy or cheap to maintain at its age.”

“I’m picking a family car with enough horses under the hood to feel better about it.” I pointed at my foot. “These do not work well in luxury sports cars. Most manufacturers don’t anticipate medical boots as part of their foot room measurements. I’d also like room for my purse and possibly my cat. I’ve already heard the lecture from the first batch of doctors. The probability of flashbacks, panic attacks, and other unwanted consequences of the crash are likely the first time—and possibly permanently—I get near this class of car.” I eyed the car skeptically. “In good news, I don’t think I’m having a flashback or a panic attack, but my foot hurts even thinking about trying to cram into that thing.”