Twirled Bond (Holly Woods Files, #5) (8 page)

I wonder if he feels kinda like his mom is dropping him off at work. I mean, maybe the licking my thumb and rubbing at his cheek while Sheriff Bates was standing at the door was a little too far. Still, I gave the old man a good chuckle, so I think that balances out my karma.

Plus, if I’m going to get thrown over Drake’s shoulder and spanked soon, I’m damn well making sure I’ve earned every last smack.

I decide to pull my phone out and text him, but he’s already beaten me to it, despite getting out a mere minute ago.

Every time you piss me off or sass me, I’m adding a spank. I have a tally chart on my board.

A laugh barks out of me. A spank chart! That’s quite something. I hit reply.
Can you write a shopping list right next to it? I need aloe vera.

His reply is a picture. Five spanks and shopping list consisting of aloe vera. Wait. Five? Where did five come from? I text him to ask him, and he replies quickly.

You sassed me twice and pissed me off once. I added a couple for good luck.

Good luck for who? Him? It sure as shit isn’t me. That man spanks like a champ. I’m not joking about needing aloe vera. I wonder if we can stagger the spanks. Like two on Monday, maybe one on Tuesday at lunchtime... Four before Friday night dinner so I don’t have to go...

Sleep with one eye open. And call me if you hear anything about the body.

I tuck my phone back into my purse and pull away from the station before he comes out to reply. I honestly wouldn’t put it past him to drag me out of my car, flip me over the hood, and slap my ass right in front of the HWPD. Even I know I’m pushing my luck with that last message, but he’ll probably push his luck right back.

I’m right. When I pull up outside Bond P.I. and take out my phone, the little light is blinking orange, his color, and his message is definitely luck pushing.

Carry on sassing and I’ll ban Miss Rosie from selling you cake or pie.

I gasp. What a bastard.
You wouldn’t dare.

Try me.

You ban her from selling me my life fuel and, the next time you put your dick in my mouth, I’m biting it. Right off. Then spitting it at you.

My phone rings the moment I put the keys into the door. I answer and balance it between my shoulder and my ear as my assistant, Grecia, pulls into the lot. “Hello?”

Drake’s voice, somewhat amused, rumbles down the line. “Was that a threat?”

“No.” I unlock the door and push it open. “It was a promise. Don’t fuck with my cupcakes.”

“I should come over there and make good on that tally chart.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I smile at Grecia as she walks in then dump my purse on the table in the meeting room before heading for the kitchen. “Don’t you have to go and save the world?”

“Do you mean arrest Mr. Russo for harassment?”

“What’s he harassing, Captain Spankalot?”

He’s quiet for a second, and I know he’s fighting laughter. “Us,” he finally says.

I’ve almost finished making my coffee by this point. He must have had to really think about whether or not to ignore that nickname.

“He’s apparently been here since six a.m., demanding to speak with the detective in charge, requiring answers to questions we haven’t even asked yet, and threatening us with his lawyer.”

“His lawyer? What for? What’s he asking? What did you say?”

“I told him, if he didn’t calm himself down, I’d be arresting him and then he really would need to call his lawyer. Then I came into my office and locked the door in his face.”

“Professional.”

Tapping sounds down the line. “He was being a pain. It was that or I punched him for getting in my face.”

And that’s why Drake isn’t allowed to go to work tired.

“Where is he now?” I ask.

“He’s currently in one of the empty waiting rooms with a coffee. He’s talking to his lawyer, who happens to be your favorite person in the entire world. If he shows up, I might call you to handle it.”

I purse my lips. Samuel Goldberg. One of Austin’s finest lawyers. Rich as filth from defending just that—filth.

If I had such a thing as a mortal enemy, that son of a bitch would be enemy number one.

I hate the man. He rubs me the wrong way just by being in the same room as me, and the feeling is mutual. We dealt with each other more times than I ever wanted to when I was with the Dallas PD, and the number of times I’ve dealt with him since leaving is way too many too.

“No, thank you. Unless you’d like another murder case on your hands. Except I’ll save you the investigation and let you witness it.”

“I’m good. I’d like you around a little longer.” There’s knocking from his end. “I have to go.”

“You’ll call me if you find anything out, right?”

A resigned sigh crackles the line. “Yes, I’ll call you. But you’ll bring me lunch.”

“Can’t. Working through it. I’ll see if Rosie can get her new guy to deliver.”

Rosie’s introduction of a new staff member who does deliveries is both the best and worst thing.

Best? I can get a cupcake any time she’s open without moving my ass from my chair.

Worst? I can get a cupcake any time she’s open without moving my ass from my chair.

“But then I have to pay for it.”

Yeah, well, I have to pay for cupcakes without moving when my pants don’t fit. Life sucks.

“Correct. Have fun. Bye. Love you.” I hang up before he can say another word.

Hey—I’ll send him lunch, but I’m not paying for it as well. He, on the other hand, can pay for mine. Since I’m ordering it.

“Good morning!” I say chirpily to Grecia. And Bek and Dean, who apparently arrived when I was on the phone.

Bek shoots me a glare and walks past me into the kitchen.

Well. She didn’t get any coffee yet.

“Morning, Miss Noelle,” Dean says with a smile. “How are you?”

“I could complain, but I won’t.” I return his smile. “Who’s on the Gigi’s run?”

“Mike,” Grecia answers, her Mexican accent thick today. It’s ever present, but—oh no. She’s crying.

Why is she crying? I’m not good with crying.

“Grecia? What’s wrong?”

She sniffs and waves me off. “We just had a fight this morning. It’s okay. I’m being silly.”

And that’s why I should have made a no-dating policy. Shit.

Dean shifts uncomfortably. “Well, Miss Grecia, I’m sure it’ll be okay.”
Bless his manners.
“We’re all shaken by the discovery yesterday.”

No kidding.

Grecia sniffs and disappears into her office, pushing the door closed. Best to give her some privacy. I wave Dean into the kitchen, but he holds up a takeout coffee cup and goes upstairs to his office. I can’t start the meeting without everyone here anyway.

Bek is slamming around the kitchen like everything’s made of granite, not china. One look at her pinched expression tells me my best friend is not in a great mood and would be safer in a locked room. An empty, locked room.

“I hate your brother.” She somehow manages to pull the mug from beneath the machine and push it toward me along the kitchen counter without spilling any of the dark liquid. “I mean it, Noelle. I fucking hate him. If I never see his pompous, asshole ass ever again, it’ll be a million years too soon.”

Oh, goodie. This sounds like fun.

“Brody?” I ask, wanting to make sure. Not that Trent or Devin would have a reason to piss her off. Then again, it is my family.

“Yes. Brody. I want to be sick just from saying his name.”

“Make sure you don’t miss the sink. I’m not cleaning it up.”

She lets out a noise that’s halfway between a frustrated scream and a troll having an orgasm. “I’m so done with relationships. Do you know that? If it’s not Jason silently trying to make me commit to him, it’s Brody with his fuckboy signals that are more mixed than the colors in a rainbow cake at Gay Pride.”

I slowly hand her the bottle of milk. I’m a little afraid right now. Not gonna lie.

“Why does it have to be serious? It’s been seven months, and he hasn’t even been here the whole time. Why can’t we still be casually dating? Why does everything need to be decided right now?” She slams the milk down, thankfully with the lid still on, and looks at me. “Did you know he’s not even one hundred percent guaranteed to stay in Austin? He could go anywhere in the country at any time, and he wonders why I don’t want to commit to a serious relationship right now? I just want things to go naturally. I’m having fun. God, I’m still young enough to have fun, aren’t I?”

“If you don’t think he’s the one, then yeah.”

“I don’t know. Just when I think he might be....” She trails off, but I don’t need her to finish it. I know what she isn’t saying.

Just when she thinks Jason might be the one...Brody sends out his bat signal.

“Doesn’t matter.” She pours the milk into her coffee and screws the cap back onto the bottle. “I’m going to go to Puerto Rico and bring me back a hot Latino so they can both kiss my ass and weep at my goddamn feet.”

“There’s my best friend.” I grin.

She pauses then looks at me, a smile tugging at her lips. “Am I being ridiculous?”

“As a rule, yes.” I turn out of the kitchen and walk toward the meeting room. There are still no cupcakes. Where are the cupcakes—and the rest of my staff? “No. I don’t think so. I felt the same way with Drake.”

We both sit at the meeting table, and she dumps her purse on the chair next to her then runs her fingers through her fiery, auburn hair. “But you never doubted it. Droelle is like the ultimate relationship goal. If you were on Instagram, you’d have your own hashtag and everything. Even Twitter would feature you on one of those stupid at-relationship-underscore-goals accounts.”

I blink at her. “I have no idea what that is, so I’m going to move on.”

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

I look down into my coffee mug. I don’t know what to tell her. My brother is infuriating. Jason is infuriating. Being stuck between them, between solid determination for commitment from one and wishy-washy signals from the other, must be hard.

“Maybe neither of them is the one for you.”

She opens her mouth then stops. “I didn’t think of that. But it still doesn’t help me decide what to do.”

I glance backward just as the front door opens, announcing Mike with the cupcakes and Carlton right behind him, looking frazzled. I swing my gaze right back to meet Bek’s and lean forward.

“Wait for the man who looks at you and makes you feel alive. He’s The One.”

“Is that how you feel about Drake?” She swallows.

“With my whole heart.”

Bek’s throat bobs as she swallows again. “I still hate them both.”

A
side from a message warning me that making him pay for lunch added another tally to my spank chart, I haven’t heard from Drake. I’m operating by the phrase “no news is good news.” Meaning that Mr. Russo finally calmed down and left the station and Samuel Goldberg wasn’t summoned.

Either that or Drake really doesn’t want me to kill anyone today.

Not saying that it would definitely happen, but with Samuel Goldberg, nothing is certain.

I’m also taking it to mean they haven’t come up with anything on the skeleton yet. I’m apprehensive of what they may find. If it is Daniela Russo, then Holly Woods could potentially become a circus. Sure, it was fifteen years ago, but I remember it all too clearly.

Truth is people just
don’t
go missing in Holly Woods.

Last year aside. That was an anomaly.

Holly Woods is too small, the community is too tight-knit, and we’re all too familiar with each other. If you go missing, you’re found an hour later. I’m not saying I once tried to run away when I was ten and made it as far as the bus stop behind the old people’s home, but just know you don’t get far if you try.

My point being: Daniela Russo’s case quickly gathered speed. When it became very clear she wasn’t in town or close to it, the police had to branch out. It quickly turned into a county search, which became state and then nationwide.

If the body under the theater is hers, chaos is going to descend on our little Texan town. Chaos I don’t think we’re equipped to deal with. No—I know we’re not equipped to deal with nationwide media attention yet again. The police department sure as hell isn’t, and when they get overwhelmed, Mayor McDougall wants to pull in the Austin PD, and that’s never good.

Mostly because Nonna once set me up on a date with one Detective Giorgio Messina, the same man Drake went to police academy with and his ex-fiancée, Jessica, once had an affair with. While it’s in the past, he’s still somewhat a sore spot for my guy.

Kind of like how I avoid Jessica like the plague, because she’s a definite sore spot for me. Total bruise, actually. Broken bone, to be precise.

So, yes. It’s in everyone’s best interest if this body isn’t Daniela. Daniela equals media, media equals Mayor McDougall and Jessica, and Mayor McDougall and Jessica equal Detective Messina.

Honestly, if you throw in Samuel Goldberg, I’m gonna move. Stat.

“Hi,” I say, picking the ringing phone up. Grecia’s light blinks. “What’s up?”

“Mrs. Russo is here to see you. She says it’s urgent.” There’s a shuffle then her hushed voice. “You have fifteen minutes before the accountant comes by, so I can ask her to come back tomorrow.”