NC-17

by Larissa Reinhart

  I held the .38 and rifle while Nash tied Dr. Trident’s hands behind his back with a bungee cord. After Trident scooted into the passenger seat and Nash had swung into the truck, I handed Nash the .38.

  “Get in,” he said.

  I shook my head. “I’ve got to go back. I don’t know if he’s alive or dead. I can’t leave Oliver like this.”

  “Right, your fiancé.” Nash nodded and cranked the ignition.

  “Ex-fiancé,” I said. “And after you drop off Trident, you need to go home. To your wife.”

  “Ex-wife.”

  “About her.” I pulled my shoulders back and notched my chin up. “Do I have to look for another job?”

  His polar blues considered me. He gave me a half-smile, one that spoke of remorse. Yet still warmed his eyes and made my heart gallop. “I honestly don’t know. But I still want you for a partner.”

  “Wait,” said Dr. Trident. “Are you Maizie’s boss? We’ve talked a lot about you.”

  I stepped on to the running board to fix Dr. Trident in a death glare. “Even if you’re arrested, we still have doctor-patient confidentiality, right?”

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  “Good. This is Wyatt Nash. My boss.” My cheeks heated. I kept my eyes on Trident. “And I’m in love with him. I don’t care what anyone thinks. He can fire me if that’s what it’s going to take to be with him.”

  A hand closed around the nape of my neck, drawing me into the truck. Nash’s lips fell on mine. The fire in my cheeks zipped through the rest of my body. I clung to his shoulders and teetered on the running board. His arm slipped around my waist, securing me, then he angled for a deeper kiss.

  The dizziness had gotten worse in a good way.

  Nash drew back. “I just fired you. Are you giving him back the ring?”

  “Nope.” I stretched to kiss his cheek. “And if he’s alive, I’ll visit Oliver in prison. Even if they don’t give us a window. Are you going to be okay with that?”

  “I may have to work for my ex-wife. Are you going to be okay with that?”

  “Have you two thought of couple’s counseling?” said Trident. “Check out my YouTube channel under Hashtag-Selfie-Ship-Fix. It’s worked wonders for a lot of lovers.”

  * * *

  I was so over hiking. But at least this time I had a song in my heart and a rifle in my hand. The Center’s castle-like edifice rose above the trees. A cacophony of first responders created a buzz of background noise among the usual woodland sounds. I tuned it out to pay attention to my surroundings. Like the rustle of movement in the leaves behind me. I stopped and slid around a tree. Something large crashed through a bush. Birds flew overhead squawking.

  Swallowing hard, I lifted the rifle and placed the butt against my shoulder. I blew out a long breath and pivoted to face the intruder. Among the trees, something moved. I looked over the gunsight but couldn’t make out a person.

  “Come out,” I said. “I’m armed and have you sighted. The police are here. You can’t get away.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I scanned the landscape. But I couldn’t pick out anything more than the browns and greens of the forest. I stepped sideways, trying a different angle. The woodland noise had quieted. No bird calls. No squirrel chatter. No crashing in the undergrowth.

  An eerie howl broke the silence. Deep and long, imitating a wail.

  My heart pounded inside my head, causing pain to spot my vision. I blinked it off, trying to steady the rifle. And decided I’d take a headache over whatever was out there. I spun and ran up the incline toward the castle.

  At the edge of the forest, I handed my rifle to a deputy and entered the obstacle course of explaining who, what, and why, until I found Ian.

  “Did they hurt Oliver? Is he alive?”

  “He’s in custody.” Ian cut his eyes to a squad car. “Alive.”

  “I have to see him,” I said.

  “Not a good idea.”

  “We both need the closure. And I need to give him this.” I flashed the ring.

  Ian gave me a dark look. “You should probably keep it.”

  “It’s a long story. But we’re not engaged.”

  “We’re not done questioning Fraser, hon’. It’s going to have to wait. He’ll probably be charged with at least aiding and abetting. We’ll hold on to him for a few days before the arraignment. We want to get all the facts together.”

  “I can tell you everything as a witness. I’ve got it all, the bank robbery, your drug cartel victim, and what happened here today. But I need to have words with Oliver.” I gave Ian my best Julia Pinkerton stare down. “The last time he sold me out, I refused to talk to him. This time, he’s going to hear it.”

  “I might make an exception for that.” Grinning, Ian winked. “Where was this resolve a week ago?”

  “I found my spine, Ian. And I’m not giving it back.”

  Fifty-Four

  #ByeByeBae #ReboundGirl

  Because I had dragged Ian Mowry to my probation meeting, Gladys was forced to listen to my longest excuse to date. Showing her irritation, she pulled out her knitting and kept the needles clicking through the entire story.

  “I need to speak to Judge Ellis about your career choice,” she said. “And I don’t care if a drug mule steals your backpack and phone, you’re still to report to me from a landline. That’s a strike.”

  I buried my head in my hands.

  “And you’re not supposed to have a weapon,” she said. “That’s another strike. But the manager of Wellspring did fax over your community service hours and you’re caught up there.”

  “Seriously?” I looked up. “Oliver did that for me?”

  “Before his arrest for aiding and abetting. I’ll have to double-check that’s not an issue. You might need to get someone else to sign it.”

  Ian patted my shoulder.

  “Now for the therapist. He’s been released for now. It seems Dr. Trident was an outside hire and didn’t realize what was going on at the spa.” Gladys leaned forward. “But the police are still investigating. If Dr. Trident is convicted and has his license suspended, you’re going to need a new therapist.”

  “I still have to see Dr. Trident?”

  Gladys eased back in her chair and picked up her knitting. “I heard you’re unemployed. I’ll give you a week to find another job. No excuses.”

  I stopped chewing my lip to gnaw on my nails.

  Ian stood up. “We have another issue. Did you meet with Vicki Albright, the mother of your probationer, one month ago?”

  Gladys’s gaze shifted from me to Ian. “I’m not sure. I’ll have to check my scheduler.”

  “And did Vicki Albright offer you an acting role as ‘probation officer’ in the All is Albright television reality show? To which you agreed to be filmed?”

  “There are no rules against that.”

  “And a few weeks later, did you then agree to use the Wellspring Center and a Dr. Trident for both Maizie Albright’s community service and therapist? Through Vicki Albright?”

  “They were recommended by Vicki,” said Gladys. “It was clearly stated as a suggestion and not as a—”

  “Bribe?” said Ian. “Because that’s a serious offense.”

  The ball of yarn dropped from her lap and rolled across the floor.

  “I’m keeping an eye on you and your business,” said Ian. “Come on, Maizie.”

  I followed him from the office and into the parking lot. “Thank you.”

  “No problem. You’ll be happy to know Agent Langtry is gone. She had to turn over her case to the DEA. Sam Martin’s got a rep for using real estate to launder money for a drug cartel, the one connected to our Atlanta victim. He builds resorts on the West coast but moved here thinking it’d be easier to cover. He brought in Dr. Sakda to impress his boss with new drugs whose chemical makeup isn’t technically illegal. Yet.”

  “It was the evil land developer all along. Hollywood screenwriters would love that villain,” I said. “What about y
ou? Do you get to assist the DEA?”

  “Only to turn over my files. But I’m okay with that. At least they were polite about it.” He smiled. “Back to small-town crime. Speaking of, even though I helped you today, you still need to follow your probation requirements.”

  “I know.”

  “And no more lying to me. That’s obstruction of justice. I can’t help you with Gladys in that regard.”

  I nodded.

  “Maizie.” Ian took my hands in his. “I really like you. But I think, it’s best if we just remain friends. If you had a different job or didn’t take such risks, I’d probably think differently. But I’ve got my daughter to think about. And my career.”

  “You’re dumping me, too?” I pulled my hands from his. My second breakup in two days from men I wasn’t even dating.

  I had found my spine and lost my mojo.

  * * *

  I strolled from Black Pine Probation to Nash Security Solutions, enjoying a pace that wasn’t an armed man chase. Also because Lucky was currently impounded as evidence. I popped into the donut shop, grabbed a bag of apple and pumpkin spice, then slipped through the side door. Backpacks, film equipment, computers, phones, bottles of Coke, and balled up bags of chips covered the stairs. As well as three teenagers, who had sprawled across what space wasn’t covered in debris.

  Checking the time on my watch, I opened my mouth. Before I could remind them of typical school hours, the three bounded down the stairs and fell on me. We group hugged. Then individually hugged. And I might have cried. A lot.

  They took my bag of donuts, gathered their things, and followed me into the office. I fell into Lamar’s La-Z-Boy while they ransacked the donuts.

  “Chandler is getting treated for dehydration in the hospital,” said Mara. “Isn’t that cool?”

  Not really. But I nodded.

  “And we’re going to do a special episode about drugs,” said Fred. “As a public service project.”

  “We’ll continue the show, but we’re using new locations,” said Laci.

  “Sounds good.” I hesitated, then decided not to share my possible Bigfoot encounter in the woods. Maybe after everything calmed down. And the Wellspring Center turned back into a chicken farm.

  Instead, I popped the footrest. Folded my hands on my stomach. And relaxed.

  I totally got Lamar’s obsession with the chair.

  “The police have everyone in custody except Crispin,” I said. “His dad didn’t want to turn him over to the Mexican police, so they hired a bounty hunter to bring him back.”

  The room burst in a cacophony of “that’s so cools.”

  Which it kind of was. I smiled, then blinked my eyes open. The kids were gone. The door’s creak had woke me. I popped the footrest back. Saw it was Vicki and Giulio and kicked back again.

  “Really?” said Vicki. “At a time like this? What are we going to do for a wedding venue?”

  I yawned. “Are you mad about Oliver lying to you or is it the loss of your investment that has you so angry?”

  “My darling, what is that magnificent piece on your hand?” Giulio darted to the chair and picked up my hand. “Wrong finger. But nice ring. Tell me about the conjugal visits. It is something I have always wondered. Please help my imagination.”

  “As if.” I snatched my hand back.

  Vicki paced to the coffee table, picked up a People, checked the cover, and dropped it. “I suppose we’re back to the old venue. And using Sweeney Security Solutions.”

  “Whatever.” I closed my eyes. “I don’t work here anymore, anyway.”

  When I opened my eyes, Vicki and Giulio had left. Replaced by a robust man with Paul Newman eyes, a small scar on his chin, and a bigger scar on the back of his head. Kicking the footrest back, I shot forward. He placed a hand on the back of the chair, steadying it, then leaned over me and kissed me slowly. Then pushed the chair back and dropped Steve into my lap.

  “Sleep.” Nash smiled, flexing the tiny dimple near his scar. “But when you wake up, we need to talk about the snoring. That might be an issue. Then there’s the drooling. But that’ll bother Lamar more since it’s his chair.”

  “What’s going on?” I struggled with the chair and hopped out. “Where have you been?”

  “In a long meeting.” He sighed, dropped into the La-Z-Boy, and pulled me onto his lap. “At Sweeney Security Solutions. With crazier people than you experienced at Wellspring.”

  I snuggled against him and stroked his scar. “What’s the verdict?”

  “Even with insurance, the hospital bills are astronomical. And thanks to Jolene snagging Black Pine’s business these past months, it looks like I’ll be deep in the red. I can’t let Lamar invest in a bad business.” He kissed my temple and rubbed his knuckle against my cheek. “You and Lamar tried your best this week and I thank you for it, but it’ll take a lot more than fliers and Jolene’s castoffs to save me.”

  “No. I can’t fail again.” I felt an onrush of tears but gritted my teeth instead. “We’ll work harder.”

  “Don’t worry.” He kissed my nose. “I’m not going to let you lose your chance at getting a PI license.”

  “This isn’t about me. This is your business.”

  He absently twined our hands together, then lifted mine to examine the ring. “It’s a funny thing about comas. You wake up and see things differently. When I thanked the nurses, they told me how Maizie Albright came to my room early in the morning and late at night. Looking like something the cat drug in, which concerned them. But you’d still sit by my bed and talk to me.”

  “That’s unfair,” I said. “I had an Olaplex.”

  “Forget the business.” He rubbed his cheek against my temple. “Nothing means more to me than that story.”

  I pressed my lips against his neck so he couldn’t see my expression. “To be fair Jolene was there, too.”

  “To be seen as the wife of the bank bomb hero. That’s Jolene for you.” He sighed again.

  I didn’t like the sigh, but the weight on my right ring finger reminded me I had no room to complain. “What are you going to do?”

  “I cut a deal. It’s a terrible deal. But I couldn’t hang you out to dry. You’re still going to mentor with me, I insisted on that. But I won’t be your boss. You’re not going to like it. Neither of us will. But it’s the best I can do. For now.”

  My stomach dropped. “Who’s going to be the boss?”

  I quickly chose a new mantra. Don’t say Jolene. Don’t say Jolene. Don’t say Jolene.

  “Vicki Albright.”

  The End.

  Have you read Maizie’s first case, 15 MINUTES or her Christmas caper (#4), A VIEW TO A CHILL? Just tap to download!

  Thanks for Reading NC-17

  Thank you for choosing Maizie Albright’s third case. This is my longest Maizie book and longest book to date. I’d vow to write less complicated mysteries in the future, but I know I’ll never keep that promise. ;)

  If you missed 15 MINUTES, Maizie Albright’s first case, click here to get it!

  And do sign up for my newsletter to get updates on new releases, discounts, giveaways, and events. All my newsletter subscribers get a free short story and are entered into subscriber-only giveaways, like to receive a signed advanced copy with each new release! I love my readers!

  <3!

  Larissa

  For the Maizie stories, I wanted to explore a different topic in current entertainment. If you asked my (teenage) children what they watch on TV, they will cite a few series on Netflix. But they mainly watch YouTube. They listen to music on YouTube. They learn how to do whatever craft they’re into on YouTube. My youngest loves “satisfying videos” which she calls ASMR. (She had no idea ASMR stands for Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response.) But then, much of what they learn in school is on-line now, so what should I expect?

  I find this an interesting phenomenon and a little disturbing. Both of my girls are iGen (iPhone Generation), like Fred, Mara, and Laci. They don’t re
member a world without smart phones. Tapping an app, typing in a search, and clicking on a video is much easier for them than searching through channels on TV.

  This phenomenon has opened a new avenue in entertainment and stars. There are YouTube channels that are pulling in millions of dollars in revenue. Without agents, managers, and producers taking their cut, these new celebrities are probably making much more than the average TV actor.

  Of course, it’s a Pandora’s Box, like everything else in our digital world today. Which is great fodder for a mystery writer!

  Thanks for reading! xoxo

  Larissa

  A Sneak Peek of The Cupid Caper

  Sometimes it takes a con to catch a crook. It’ll take an ex-con to catch this killer.

  The Cupid Caper, A Finley Goodhart Crime Caper #1

  Ex-grifter Finley Goodhart may try to stay on the straight and narrow, but walking that thin line becomes wobbly when she believes her friend Penny was murdered. The last thing she wants is to work with her ex-partner (and ex-boyfriend), the brilliant (brilliantly frustrating) British con artist, Lex Leopold. However, when it appears Penny's demise might be related to an exclusive matchmaking service for millionaires, Fin needs Lex's help to pull a long con to get the goods on Penny.

  Romance is in the air for hustlers, gangsters, and their marks. Unfortunately for Fin and Lex, infiltrating the racket doesn't make for a match made in heaven. This Valentine swindle could stop their hearts for good.

  One

  The Approach

  Wednesdays often brought the college boys to Jello’s Pool Hall. Particularly in the winter. I’d call it cabin fever, except we were in Georgia. Still, too cold to drink on their frat house front porch rocking chairs. Too early in the week to host a party. The non-heathens would be attending Wednesday night church. The good students would be in class or the library.