Number's Up

by Annabelle Hunter

  “Did you already take some Advil?” he asked, standing too close to me. I nodded, and he lifted my head so he could see my face. Probably because he didn’t believe me, but my hormones jumped up and took control. My heart started to race, and my eyes settled on his mouth and refused to move. They were big. His lips, I mean. And his arms. I had felt his muscles when he held me yesterday. What big arms he had. I was suddenly wishing I had a little red hood to wear. I tore my eyes away from his lips to his eyes. The blue on the outside rim seemed deeper, locking me in as they searched mine. All I had to do was just reach up and I could—

  “You like me.”

  Hit him. Hard. Maybe punch? Wait, Lark told me that hurt if you don’t do it right. I couldn’t afford to break my hand.

  “You are too cocky for words,” I replied, breaking away from his grasp and crossing my arms over my chest.

  “You think I’m pretty,” he smirked, his eyes tracking my escape.

  “Pretty cocky.” His smile widened. Why? Oh. “Don’t say it.”

  “What? That I have something co—”

  “No.” I sent him the best glare I could come up with.

  He lifted one eyebrow again.

  No, not the eyebrow. Damn all those late nights watching classic Star Trek episodes. I watched too many old reruns.

  “Why are you here bothering me?” I hissed. I was all kinds of sexy this morning.

  “Warrant, remember?”

  Why had I thought drinking last night was a good idea? Henry. Dead. Insider trading. Life ending. Okay. I remembered.

  “Fine. What do you want me to get?”

  “No need for you to help. My team is working on it right now.” That was when I noticed all the other people in my house. That would teach me to keep my eyes closed when the FBI showed up. They had done that last time, too. Just appeared out of nowhere, without a sound. Or at least one that my stressed out, drunk senses registered.

  On the other hand, drunk/hungover me was able to relax enough to really appreciate their snazzy FBI jackets. Okay, that was kind of cool. I didn’t know how I missed appreciating how cool they were the first time they searched. Maybe I could join the FBI? Maybe being a snitch would be a good thing in their eyes. And I would get a jacket. I needed a change in career. Did guys find female FBI agents as sexy as we found the men?

  “Do I need to be here?” From my understanding, they could have access to anything in the house, since I had my office in my spare bedroom. I couldn’t stop them, but I didn’t need to make Nic’s life easier. Let them waste their time trying to find something that wasn’t there. My files were clean. I paid big bucks to my lawyer to make sure I was protected. Last time I was willing to stay and fight. Now? That part of me might have died with Henry.

  “I have some more questions for you,” Nic said, pulling out a chair and sitting down without waiting for my invite.

  Did he just order me around? My head hurt too much for this.

  Without speaking, I turned and headed to my room. I was still a little fuzzy from the hangover and I really wanted to be clean more than I wanted to answer questions.

  “Where are you going?” he called out.

  “I’m taking a shower.”

  “With fifteen people in your house serving a warrant?”

  Oh, yeah. Maybe not. I wasn’t as sober as I would want to be.

  I stopped in the hallway, taking in the people in my home. They all smiled in greeting and were respectful of my stuff as they searched. It still felt wrong. Respectful searching. It just felt… surreal.

  Nic drew my attention again, waving his notebook with what I assumed were his case notes. Helping the police solve the murder. I could do that.

  Turning around, I took another sip of tea, letting the heat and caffeine rush through my system. I refused to acknowledge that I was wandering around in my pajamas, with my hair in who knew what condition, but my hand drifted up before I stopped it.

  No wonder he ruined the moment with his stupid comment. I must have looked horrible.

  Well, the damage was done. No sense in crying over it. I definitely didn’t need to be any less hydrated.

  “Okay. I’m ready. What do you want to know?”

  “Did you know that Henry signed a document saying he, and he alone, helped Tony Harris cover up his illegal trades?”

  Huh.

  I froze. “Did he add the alone part?”

  “Yes.”

  Henry was protecting someone. My brain tried to convince me it was me, but logic didn’t follow. I hadn’t done anything wrong and Henry knew it. Frank, however… Well, his record of making mistakes was longer than we would normally allow. I refused to let him work on any of my accounts after the fourth time he didn’t do what I asked and I got an angry phone call. I had enough problems on my own. I wasn’t covering for Frank.

  Would Henry have… no. Not with an important account like Tony’s. Henry wouldn’t have let Frank work on Tony’s account. Not when Harris corporation was one of our biggest customers. But I was starting to think he did. The weight in my chest got heavier.

  I sat. It would be more accurate to say my knees gave out, because my conscious mind wouldn’t just sit on the kitchen floor. I did manage to pull it off, though, by leaning against the wall. Like I meant to do it. What could I say? I was a boss.

  “What do I have to do to know what is going through your brain?” Nic’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

  Looking up I found him on one knee, his other leg bent as he watched me process. One hand rested on his knee, but the other hovered by my arm as if he wanted to touch, but didn’t know if I’d allow it. I wouldn’t. Okay, maybe I’d had one or two dreams last night of his hands on me, but not right now.

  On the other hand, he just asked me what he had to do. My evil side decided to cover for my other sides, who were reeling from Nic’s words.

  “Hop three times on one foot, spin around and rub your belly five times.”

  He just looked at me for a few minutes. Yep. I surprised him with that one. Then he started to get up. Uh oh. Needed to up the stakes.

  “Naked.” What? Talk about a Freudian slip.

  His chin dropped. Well, well. Didn’t expect that, did he? Ha. I won.

  Then he slowly smiled at me. No, smiled wasn’t right. Smirked was not enough, either. Was there a smugger option? I couldn’t think of one. I watched in fascinated horror as his hands went to his belt. No. He wouldn’t. I looked up at his face, my mouth hanging. I had an open floor plan, so the kitchen was pretty open to the rest of the house. Surely, there was no way he would go that far into unprofessionalism with his coworkers watching?

  “It’s for the case. Us information whores do what it takes.”

  Huh. That comment really got to him. But there at least were fifteen of his colleagues in my house. He wasn’t going to strip.

  I was pretty sure.

  I offered him my best bravado smile. It might have been a little shaky. I was emotionally exhausted. And still very hungover.

  “Do you think your friends will let me record it? For promotional reasons?” I asked. Damn. I had balls when hungover. Or I was still drunk. I thought about it for a second. I just gave a sexual advance to an FBI agent who was investigating me. Yep, I was leaning toward still drunk. Hungover me generally still listened to the filter that was screaming in my head that this was beyond the bounds of professionalism.

  “You think the FBI would want it? You think I’m that hot?” Nic’s smirk got wider.

  “No. I was talking about for me. To show customers what lengths I go to protect their information.” Ha. Another frown, this time almost making me think I might have hurt his feelings. Nah, I was pretty sure he didn’t have any feelings.

  On another note, this may be why I was still single.

  He recovered quickly. “You sure it wouldn’t be for your own purposes?”

  Gasp.

  He did not… no.

  “I never.” I jumped to my feet, arms f
lailing in his direction. “You take that back!”

  “You never, huh?” He looked me up and down. “That explains a lot.”

  Done. I was done.

  “Out. Get. Out!”

  “I have a warrant.”

  Good point. “Then I’ll leave.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  I grabbed my car keys and walked to the garage door, dodging FBI agents who had stopped to stare at us. I didn’t blame them. If it hadn’t been me, I would’ve been staring, too.

  Unlocking my car by remote, I grabbed the door and swung it open with all my might. Which made no noise. Unsatisfying. I slammed it closed.

  Bang.

  There. That was what I wanted. He knew I was mad. The whole house knew I was mad.

  And in my pajamas.

  Hmm, I might have not thought this through. Was I even sober enough to drive? That conversation in there would indicate not.

  Well, I wasn’t going back in now. I stuck my key in the ignition and lifted my hand to open the garage door before hesitating. Maybe I could borrow some clothes? Or maybe buy some new ones? Yeah. Not so much. I didn’t even have shoes on.

  I couldn’t leave.

  Not without shoes.

  Or admitting that some of that was my fault. I was a grown woman. I couldn’t blame the alcohol or the hangover. As much as I wanted to. My filter had told me that was a bad move and I had chosen to ignore it in favor of getting one over on Nic.

  Stupid.

  Plus, I did want to help with solving Henry’s murder.

  I was stuck between my ego and my pride. I would’ve thought that I was a bigger person than that by this age. I sighed and let my head drop to rest on the steering wheel. I had no idea what to do.

  I glanced down at my phone when the text alert went off. Lindsey had posted another blog. My fingers shook as I stared at the phone, debating opening it. It had to be about Henry. Or me. Or both of us. Or the insider trading. Or the FBI. Look at me, giving her so many options for her blog. Maybe she could cut me in on her profit.

  Okay. I was going to look. I worked better when I had all the information.

  Cake Configuration Causes Chaos.

  Huh. Well, that was definitely not about me. Should I look? I mean, I was having a moment right here with my own stupidity. Should I stop it to read about someone else's? Yes.

  Today at eight am, two men in a state of questionable sobriety entered Dough & Nuts, reportedly trying to buy a cake in the shape of a female sex organ. When the shop owner refused, the discussion became heated about what types of cakes the shop would provide for an extra fee. Rumor is that expletives and threats were involved, causing one of the co-owners to step in, physically throwing the men out of the store, where they landed on a passerby. The only witness to the altercation and the unfortunate recipient of the two men, then fled the scene. The witness remains elusive, even though we did try to get her statement before she managed to slip away to the resort. She was in impressive physical conditioning as she ran the entire distance, some three miles, from the shop to the resort, but don’t worry, readers. I will keep trying to find her and get more details.

  Egad. Lindsey tried to get her statement, but the witness escaped with impressive physical conditioning? That could only mean one thing. The poor girl from the resort witnessed an argument about a cake in the shape of a female body part and then was run down by our local blogger with too much commitment and not enough supervision.

  I could picture it. The poor thing getting stuck in the middle of the cake craziness, being hit by flying men, only to be followed by a big-boobed girl with very little running experience. I watched Lindsey attempt the last Barrow Bay marathon. It wasn’t pretty. I mean, she knew how to walk. That should have given Lindsey some instinct for running, right? It didn’t. Somewhere on the resort was a traumatized girl who was going to have nightmares of cakes in the shape of body parts and flying limbs.

  I couldn’t help it. I laughed, the soul-deep laugh releasing the stress and emotions I was suppressing. I loved this town.

  Less panicked now that someone else was having a worse day than me, I noticed the door leading into the house was still open, and I could see Nic getting chewed out by a tiny woman in an FBI jacket. Like, small. Maybe five foot? Or it could just be that she was standing next to Nic. She was waving her arms around and Nic was standing there, his arms crossed and a frown on his face. I craned my head a little more to get a better look. Yep. She was really yelling. And he wasn’t saying a word. After a second, she pointed behind him and he turned and left.

  I guess she won.

  She turned and approached my car, stopping on the passenger side to knock on my window. From this angle, I could tell that she was older than me, maybe in her forties, and had pretty brown eyes that sparkled with amusement. Good. I was glad someone was getting a laugh out of this.

  “Hi,” I offered once I rolled the window down.

  “Hi.” She glanced around at my car. “You seem to get under Nic’s skin.”

  Okay.

  She waited for a response, but I was stuck in my anger. Too stuck to say anything. Or maybe it was embarrassment. I was having an epically bad week. I didn’t need to look at it too closely. Sometimes mental stability was really just not looking too hard at the details of life. After she waited a few seconds, she kept going.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Somewhere.”

  “In pajamas?”

  “Looks like it.” I wasn’t backing down. Well, I was pretending I wasn’t backing down.

  “You sure you don’t want to change? And get some shoes?”

  Yes! But no one did favors for free. “What’s it going to cost me?”

  “You are very suspicious for someone so young,” she commented.

  “Twenty-nine isn’t that young,” I said bitterly.

  “Ahh. You starting to feel old?” she asked with a nod. “I remember when I turned thirty. No children. No husband. No boyfriend in sight.” She sighed. “It sucks being married to the job.”

  “Yep.” I sank lower in my seat before I looked at her. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing. Still no children. No husband. I have a boyfriend now, but he’s always busy.”

  “I was kind of hoping for you to say something uplifting. Like you were married and happy and that being old isn’t the end of the world.”

  She winced. “Sorry. Does it help that I like my life? Even without what I was told I should want, I’m happy.”

  Not really.

  I looked back out my front window at my garage wall. There was nothing on it. I never had the time to do anything out here. Who was I kidding? I wouldn’t have decorated the house if Lark hadn’t made me. And brought Janet, her interior decorator cousin, with her.

  “You ever thought of quitting?” I asked, hoping the question wasn’t too revealing. Then again, I had no food in my kitchen. Still. I was guessing they knew I was pathetic.

  “A few times. But when you love something, giving up isn’t always the answer. Sometimes, finding a new way to enjoy what you love gives you back more.”

  “Wow. You sold yourself short on the whole uplifting quote section of this talk.”

  She laughed, shaking her head. “I stole it from a book. But it’s true. I switched departments. I travel less. Work on what I enjoy, not just what makes me surface happy.” She shrugged. “I annoy cocky coworkers that think too highly of themselves.”

  I winced, since I was pretty sure who she was talking about.

  “I’m sorry about being so unprofessional in there.”

  “Please. We pulled up at your door at nine a.m. the morning after you lost your business partner. Hungover was the best of the potential options we could have had. Plus, we recorded your argument. The information whore bit was priceless.” She smiled, and I heard a chuckle from inside the house somewhere.

  I was never going to be able to look at any of the agents in the eye again. Goo
d thing they were all going home.

  Glancing over, I saw that she was still leaning against the car, waiting for me to make a decision.

  “I can really come in and get dressed?” I asked, tentatively feeling my head for how bad the situation was. Bad. My hair was bad.

  “I will even kick the guys out if you want to take a shower.”

  “I love you,” I breathed.

  “I know.” She winked as she turned to leave.

  “Wait. Was that a Star Wars reference?” I yelled out, but she was gone.

  Okay. Time to face the music. I got back out of my car, slipping my purse on my arm. I didn’t remember grabbing the purse while storming out, so I was impressed by my muscle memory. Walking slowly toward the door, I was unsettled by the fact that my feet made no noise as I walked. No heels. I always wore heels out here. I hesitated for a second at the door, then pushed myself to step in.

  I was a brave, strong, capable, independent woman. I could take a shower and get dressed in the same house with the investigative team. And I could do it with my head held high. So high that I couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Yes. That was the plan. Fake pride and don’t meet anyone's eyes.

  With no heels.

  Chapter 7

  Showered and dressed, I left my room to find a subdued Nic waiting for me in the hall. I should apologize. I escalated that situation past professional bounds. He already got yelled at. I should—

  “You ready to answer some questions now?”

  —not say a thing. Because he was the enemy. The people who were trying to shut my business down. He was ruining my life. Destroying my sanity. Solving my partner’s murder?

  Okay, that went too far. It wasn’t even logical. They weren’t trying to shut down my business, just find criminals. That happened to be customers. And my partner.

  I really needed to stop overreacting because I was angry that Henry did this. Or guilty that I turned him in.

  “Whatever,” I answered with a glare. A small one. Because he did just get chewed out. And I was trying to stop overreacting. Small steps.