Page 14 of Old Secrets

“But you like it, Mrs. Jake Thomas.”

I did, and I pouted at him. “It’s been a week. People do not grow an inch of hair in a week.”

“I think you’ve grown more than an inch. You had Amelia hack off about six inches, and it’s getting back to where it’s at. Obviously, your fox does not approve of any attempts to remove the equivalent of your tail.”

“Tails are supposed to be attached to my ass, not my head.”

“But I like it, Karma. Just leave it. Maybe it will help draw attention to us.”

I considered that, and if my lineage was why the bastards behind the Greenwich case were after me, it might help me serve as bait. “I’ll leave it. I’ll even put it up in a tail so it’s more obvious.”

“There you go. Consider it part of the disguise.”

“What disguise? The whole point isn’t to be disguised.”

“That was a poor choice of words,” he admitted. “Mostly, I was thinking about that high schooler stunt you pulled with the Corvette. I asked Dad if I could buy the Corvette, did you know that? He told me no. Then I asked Mom, and she also said no, but she suggested I buy one just like it. But I didn’t want one just like it. I wanted that specific one.”

I sighed at the memory of the Corvette. “It was such a nice drive, too.”

“If we got one just like it, it might not be just like it.”

“We can’t even try to steal it now because we’d be the top suspects,” I complained. “Great job, Jake. We could have tested the FBI’s vehicular security to see how long it took them to figure out we’d made off with the car.”

“It’s tracked, Karma.”

I rolled my eyes. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Tracked vehicles are easily found.”

“So we sniff out where they installed the tracker, remove it, and put it on something else. Like a pigeon or a drone.”

Jake worked his fingers into my scalp, and I closed my eyes to enjoy the sensation. After he conquered my hair, he said, “I feel like I should be discouraging you, but at the same time, I want to know how the FBI would react if their Corvette started to fly.”

“We could get a tiny boat, put it in a river, and see how far it gets before they figure out we sent it on an adventure to the ocean.” I opened my eyes to stare up at him. “We could put the tracker in a bottle and toss it into the ocean with a note.”

“Do you even care about the car right now or do you just want to fuck with our co-workers?”

As I still technically worked in the FBI and had medical leave, and Jake was on leave but available for duty when needed, I still had co-workers. I counted as interior while Jake remained a special agent, something I’d struggled with for the first few months.

The first time I’d gotten to venture off with my private investigation license and do something he hadn’t been able to with his badge, I’d almost forgiven the FBI for the stupid card and their willingness to let me use it as long as I followed a few set rules.

I’d followed their rules, and while we didn’t get much work, we’d gotten some.

The Inquisition kept us much busier, and they paid a hell of a lot better.

One job, following up on a terrorism lead the FBI had deemed a low priority, had bagged us a wanted criminal, his bounty, and a bonus from the Inquisition, who hadn’t expected us to sniff somebody out, doing so with minimal damage to life, limb, and property.

“I might want to fuck with our co-workers,” I admitted. “But I would take good care of that car. Maybe we should ask the Inquisition if we can put together an op to see if we can steal it. If we manage to infiltrate the parking garage with it, steal the vehicle, and make it a certain distance before they catch us, we get to keep it.”

“It disturbs me that they might bite; confirming the security of one of their buildings is important, and people do try to infiltrate the organization to see if it can be done.” Jake turned me, grabbed a cloth, and scrubbed my back. “You can’t go back to bed, and we need to work rather than cuddle, so you’re going to have to accept this back washing with innocent intent for once this year.”

“I’d offer to wash yours, but I can’t reach, and if you sit on the floor, there will be cuddling instead of back washing.”

“I am sure I can survive without a back wash for once this year, but you’re going to have to make it up to me later.”

“Damned needy wolf.”

“Says the fox who becomes despondent if I have not catered to your every desire in at least a few hours.”