Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 121755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Raye and Shanti were close so I held what I wrote low, and Raye shined her light on it.
We saw the photo.
We’ll be back tomorrow.
Leave us a message.
Tell us how we can help.
AA
“Perfect,” Raye whispered.
I moved to the fridge and took my life in my hands by opening it (uh…yeah, as I suspected, the interior was no fun) and setting the note on a shelf.
After I closed the door, Shanti whispered, “Let’s bolt. I need, like, seven showers after being under that bed.”
I didn’t want to scare her by commenting on how many dust motes were in her hair, so I kept my mouth shut.
We left the house, found a wobbly gate to the alley that was unlocked, went through it and ran like hell to the car.
FOURTEEN
HE’S OURS
I was sitting on the red-with-black-piping sofa at AAHQ, staring at the picture of Amy Small we had projected on the back wall.
I’d already texted Gabe to let him know we were good, and after a debrief at HQ, I’d be home.
Yep.
Not thinking, I used the word “home” to describe his loft, where I’d been only once.
Thus, I had a minor freakout about that wee snafu, until Gabe texted back a casual, CU soon.
I was a full word texter, but since he texted right back, ended his with the double-heart-with-swoops-around-it emoji, and didn’t act weirded out I called his place “home,” I decided I was okay with Gabe being a minimalist texter.
Raye and Shanti were at the back desk, clacking on the computer, looking at the stuff we’d requested from Arthur, and he’d delivered.
Gem was sitting beside me on the couch, also staring at the picture of Amy.
It was hard to look at.
She’d seriously been roughed up.
But something seemed…off about it.
I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was.
The door slid up, but no one was surprised, since we’d gotten a text from Harlow they’d completed their search and were on their way.
I looked over the back of the couch to see Tex amble in first.
They’d pulled him in because Amy’s apartment was on the second floor, the stairs going right to her front door. Therefore, no access to jimmy windows and no back door, so they needed someone who could pick a lock.
And, as suspected, Tex could do that.
While the others pulled down the door after they entered, he looked around then homed in on the beverage fridge.
He went there, pulled out a bottle of San Pelligrino, and we all watched as he cracked it open, put it to his lips and guzzled it whole like he was shotgunning a beer.
When he was done, he crunched it in a mighty fist, pounded his other hand on his chest, let out a loud belch that lasted a good five seconds, and then proclaimed, “Haven’t had a good B and E in a long time. The shit we did with that Trev turkey was no fun. He was already dead. No one was gonna show. No one was gonna catch us. No challenge with that. So tonight was fuckin’ phenomenal.”
I loved Tex, truly.
I mean, only he could put the spin on a B&E that it was more fun if you were in danger of getting caught.
But still.
I was thinking of calling a vote to make AAHQ a no-belching zone.
Gross.
“Bonus,” Tex went on, “this time, there were no dead bodies.”
Yikes!
I knew that wasn’t about any Angels shenanigans, so I mentally circled the Never Read the Rock Chicks item on my mental list in imaginary bold, red marker. Then I added a few stars.
“Is this the picture?” Luna asked.
We’d texted them about the photo in order to warn them so they wouldn’t be shocked when they came in and saw it blown up wall-size.
She’d moved to stand at the side of the desk, her gaze aimed at the picture.
Jessie and Harlow joined her, also examining the snap.
Joey sat on the couch beside Gemma, but her gaze was aimed at Amy.
“Yeah,” I answered Luna unnecessarily, as we could all see it was.
“Good Lord,” Harlow breathed as she stared at Amy Small.
“What the fuck?” Tex asked.
We looked to see he was now bent over the opened beverage fridge.
“No beer?” he went on.
“None of us drink beer,” Jessie replied. “At least not during girl time, and time spent at HQ is usually girl time. Until now.”
He grunted.
I turned back to Team Bravo of the Angels.
“Did you guys find anything?” I asked as the whole couch shook when Tex threw his weight on it.
I again looked to him to see he had a small can of rosé wine in his beefy hand, and he was studying the photo.
Luna turned to me. “Nothing.”
“Bummer,” I muttered.
“No, you don’t understand,” Jess said. “We found nothing. Place was neat as a pin.”
“No earrings left on the dresser,” Harlow chimed in. “No moisturizer left out by the bathroom sink. Not even a coffee cup in the dish drainer, you know, like Louise left when she and Thelma took their ill-fated girls’ weekend.”