Divorced, Desperate and Daring

by Christie Craig

  “Anyone hurt?” Cary asked.

  “The driver got nailed in the ass,” Parker said. “Seriously, he got nails in his ass. He was walking out of the truck when it went off, so he’s okay.”

  “Crap.” Danny said. “Who’s working it? Or is it the Feds’ case?”

  “They don’t know yet. Chase Kelly was down there when I left. I heard one of the guys say it looked like an amateur, but if the package had been delivered and opened, it could’ve caused some real bad damage.”

  As Parker walked off, Cary’s phone rang. He reached for it. “Detective Stevens,” he answered. He paused. “Yes.” The sound of his voiced dropped to a dead serious tone.

  “How bad is it?” Cary asked and paused, despair filling his eyes. “Okay. I understand.” He hung up and dragged a hand over his face.

  “What’s wrong?” Danny asked.

  • • •

  Heaven. Not a care in the world. Sheri was in Zen mode.

  She and Chloe had laughed and chatted through the manicure and pedicure, wearing fluffy white robes and sipping water with thin slices of fresh fruit. The massage had left her worry-free. Her entire body felt limp and happy. But heaven came to a screeching halt when her masseuse left and the next technician brought in the hot wax.

  “What would you like? The love heart, the desert island, the world cup or perhaps the Bollywood?”

  Awkward. Zen mode in dire threat!

  This wasn’t her first time to get the treatment, but it had been equally awkward and unpleasant the last time. And most of all: painful. “Uh, why don’t we just . . . do a trim.”

  “Is this your first time?” the soft-spoken woman in her mid-forties asked.

  “No, I just . . . I don’t . . . I might . . . It’s my second.” Not that it mattered. Whether it was the third time or the tenth time, when would having your pubic hair yanked out not be a little scary? “It hurt last time.” She went with the truth.

  “Did I do it?” the technician asked.

  “No, it was at another salon.”

  “Then don’t worry. I’m licensed, and I’ve done this many times. Practically pain-free.”

  Not buying it.

  “May I suggest the Bollywood?”

  “Bollywood?”

  “Basically no hair. Or the Cosmo glass. The landing strip is popular.”

  “I . . . uh. Landing strip?”

  “If you’ve never done it, you must try the Bollywood at least once. It’s so fresh and clean feeling. Didn’t I hear that today is your birthday?”

  “Ye . . . es,” Sheri said.

  “Then you must try the Bollywood. I promise you, you’ll like it so much, you’ll be back.”

  “But . . .”

  “Live a little,” the woman said, sounding bold and wise.

  Live a little? She considered it. “Define practically pain-free.”

  “You’ll thank me. I promise.”

  Oh, heck. What was that saying? YOLO? You only live once! She might as well do it. “Okay. Let’s go with the Bollywood. But it’s my birthday, so don’t hurt me.”

  Sheri was handed a pair of throwaway panties to discreetly cover some parts. Then she got exfoliated, talcummed and trimmed. None of which was painful, but it was all still very awkward.

  Then the technician turned to the small pot containing the wax.

  Sheri closed her eyes and thought about feeling fresh and clean to keep from backing out. The woman applied the wax to half of Sheri’s pubic hair. It was a tad warm, but not painful. Not yet.

  Then she brought out a thin strip of material and pressed it against the hair.

  “Deep breath,” the technician said and . . . yanked.

  “Shiiiit!” Sheri squealed, her butt coming off the table and losing her throwaway panties.

  She patted Sheri’s leg. “See, almost half done. Not so bad, right?”

  What part of shiiiit did the woman not understand? Practically pain-free, my ass! Well, not her ass, but her vajayjay.

  The woman handed Sheri another pair of panties and reached back to get the wax again. Sheri considered jumping off the table but then the door to the room was suddenly flung open.

  Sheri patted around her table to find her throwaway panties to cover herself, but before she managed to find anything, she recognized the woman standing in the doorway with tears in her eyes.

  “Sheri, we have to go!” Chloe said.

  “What?” Sheri shot up.

  “We gotta go, now.”

  “What’s wrong?” Sheri asked, knowing Chloe wasn’t the type to panic.

  “Cary’s been trying to reach me. Nanny’s in the hospital. It’s bad this time. She’s in ICU. Mom’s in South America on a mission trip, and they can’t reach her. He’s got flights for us to leave for Florida in less than four hours. I’ve gotta get home.”

  Sheri knew how much Chloe loved her grandmother. “I’m so sorry. Just let me get dressed.” Chloe shut the door.

  Sheri jumped up and realized she must still have a little wax here and there, because hair was stuck places it shouldn’t be and moving felt a little like torture. It brought new meaning to the saying “gotcha by the short hairs.”

  “But you’re not . . . finished,” the technician said.

  Sheri glanced down. Half her mound was still covered in dark hair, and half was lily white. “We may have just invented a new style.” Sheri pulled her clothes out of the locker. “The black and white cookie.”

  “But that doesn’t really look like a cookie,” the woman said eyeing Sheri’s vajayjay and turning her head left and then right.

  “I was kind of joking, but are you telling me the landing strip really looks like a landing strip?” Then, still squirming from the stinging pain in her personal area, she got dressed as fast as she could and met Chloe, who waited in the hall.

  “Thank you,” Chloe said as they headed to the car.

  “Please. Do you want me to drive you two to the airport?” Sheri’s gait was still a little off from wax issues.

  “No, Cary said Danny’s doing it. I’ll just drop you off.”

  Danny? Sheri’s Zen mode slipped down a level, and the muscles in her shoulders tensed.

  They arrived at Sheri’s condo in under ten minutes. Sheri wouldn’t let her friend leave without a hug. “It’s gonna be okay,” Sheri offered her but worried it was one of those promises she might not be able to keep. Having lost her own grandmother four years ago, Sheri understood what her friend was facing.

  “Call me. And if you need me to fly to Florida, you know I will.”

  “I know you would. Cary got through to my mom. She’s flying out as soon as she can. And until then, I’m sure I’ll be fine with Cary there.”

  Yeah, Cary. Sheri’s replacement. Not that Sheri didn’t understand. When things had been going well with Kevin, Sheri had turned to him instead of Chloe. It was just one of life’s steps. One that was completely right but still felt a little wrong when you were the best friend getting pushed aside a little.

  “Oh,” Chloe said, before taking off. “Happy birthday. We’ll do this again when I get back. With the wine and cheese.”

  “You bet.” Minus the waxing. From now on, Sheri’s vajayjay was going au naturel. If the guy didn’t like the bearded lady, he didn’t like her. Well, maybe with a trim, but hot wax and Sheri’s privates were never to meet again.

  Sheri watched her best friend since kindergarten drive away and felt her relaxed state of mind fade a little more. As she walked to her condo, she remembered the letter waiting for her.

  Yup, she’d definitely lost her Zen.

  • • •

  After Danny called Mrs. Thompson and informed her someone was being detained but her husband was still free, he started out. As he was about to leave, he saw Chase Kelly and Jason Dodd walking in. “Hey, what’s up with the bomb?”

  “Don’t know much now,” Chase answered. “The bomb squad gave us the green light. But the Feds have their guys going over it fi
rst. I think they’re looking for something specific.”

  “Is it their case?”

  “Depends on if the bomb came across state lines,” Dodd said. “Or they gotta see if it’s important enough first.” A touch of sarcasm came with his tone. “What about your Pain-in-the-ass weed-smoking perp? Did he ever ’fess up to the hit?”

  “No. His girlfriend is still trying to get him a lawyer. But you heard that’s what he went away for before, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I heard,” Jason said. “What is it with these idiots? They think they’ll get better at it and not get caught the second time?”

  Danny just nodded. “We talked to Jacob Thompson, and he swears he’s not in on it.”

  “Right,” Kelly said.

  “Yeah, but he’s pretty convincing.”

  “So you think Pain was working alone?” Dodd asked.

  “That wouldn’t make sense,” Danny said.

  “Does any case really make sense?” Kelly asked. “People are mailing bombs.” Chase and Dodd waved good-bye and walked off.

  With an hour to kill before he needed to pick up Cary and Chloe for the airport drop-off, Danny decided to pop in to the hospital to see Ramon again.

  A few minutes later, he knocked on room two-twelve and heard a female tell him to come in.

  Ramon was sitting up, looking alert but pissed off.

  At his bedside sat one of his sisters and another pretty Hispanic woman.

  Tension filled the all-white room like a cloud. “Is this a bad time?” Danny asked.

  “No,” Ramon said. “Isabella and . . .” He frowned at the other girl.

  “Christina.” His sister said, obviously annoyed.

  “Christina,” Ramon repeated. “This is a fellow officer, Danny Henderson.”

  “I met Danny when you were in surgery,” Isabella said.

  Ramon’s frown stayed in place. “Why don’t you two head out. Danny and I need to discuss . . . work stuff.”

  What work stuff?

  Ramon shot him a look that dared him to say anything.

  “I’ll stop by later this evening,” Isabella said, her tone making it sound like a warning.

  “Nice to meet you,” Christina told Ramon. “When you get out, we should get together.”

  “Nice to meet you, too,” Ramon answered, not replying to the “get together” request.

  Now Danny understood the tension. His sister was playing matchmaker.

  As soon as they walked out, Danny grinned. “Now what was wrong with her?”

  “She’s a good girl!” Ramon snapped. “And she’s the fourth one my sisters have paraded in here since I got out of ICU. Last night I was using the urinal when Maria showed up with contestant number one. I’m sitting on the edge of the bed pissing in a bottle, and she’s introducing me.”

  Danny bit back a chuckle. “Well, after she saw your goods, did she rush out of here?”

  “Oh, hell, if she’d seen anything, I’d never have gotten rid of her,” Ramon joked.

  They both laughed and then Ramon frowned. “Seriously, they’re turning my hospital stay into a bachelor show. The nurses are taking bets on which one I’ll pick. But several of those nurses are more my type than the ones my sisters are bringing by. Your cousin, included.”

  “Don’t go there.” Danny dropped down in the chair, trying not to think about Anna being Ramon’s type. Then that unwanted thought lead him back to the fact that Sheri had gotten the wrong idea about Anna.

  “I heard you got coldcocked by a perp,” Ramon said, changing the direction of Danny’s thoughts.

  “Cary’s got a big mouth.” Danny rubbed his chin, which was now only slightly bruised.

  “Actually, it was Turner.” Ramon’s cell phone rang. He looked at it and frowned. “Now it’s my older sister. Probably wanting to know if she can start planning my wedding.”

  Danny chuckled. “They love ya. You’re lucky.” He knew because he hadn’t been so lucky. Not with his own parents, at least. His aunt, his mom’s older sister, and his uncle had stepped in as surrogate parents after his mom and dad’s divorce. Eleven years old and the custody battle had gotten ugly. And not the normal kind of ugly.

  Neither of his parents had wanted to be stuck with him.

  Ramon let out a groan, one more painful than when he’d been shot. “The ink on my divorce papers wasn’t even dry when they started this crap.”

  Danny leaned back in the chair and pushed his feet up, lifting the front legs of the chair a good three inches. “You ever think about giving it another shot?”

  “After what Katrina did? No, thank you.”

  “What did she do?” Danny asked.

  “Let’s just say it was ugly.” Ramon dropped back on the pillow.

  Danny noted Ramon’s expression and knew that feeling well. He didn’t even know why he’d asked. He understood all too well that some things were just better left unsaid. And damn it, he remembered the lesson he’d learned in his own unsaid situation with Tanya.

  And yet here he was trying to move on, wanting a chance with Sheri, trying to convince himself it was the right thing.

  “Maybe we married the wrong people. Cary and Turner gave it a second go, and they seem happy.”

  “They haven’t been married that long. Give it year.”

  Danny shrugged. He hadn’t had even one good year with Tanya before he’d started seeing signs. “There’s Dodd and Kelly. They’ve been married three years or more, and they seem . . . happy.”

  “What about Banker?” Ramon countered. “Have you heard him talk about his ol’ lady? And man, I can’t say I’ve ever seen a guy more miserable!”

  “Maybe it’s him and not the ol’ lady?” Danny said, knowing Banker was one of the guys who worked as a security guard out at the strip clubs and often didn’t leave those places alone. Danny didn’t judge, but he figured if Banker’s wife made the guy miserable, it might be because he deserved it.

  “Oh, hell!” Ramon sputtered. “You’re quitting the No Ball and Chain Gang? You’re the one who talked shit about Cary and Turner being traitors!”

  “I’m not quitting anything. I just . . . posed a question.” One he’d been asking himself since his night with Sheri. Not that he was thinking marriage. He was just . . . just thinking about having someone . . . one someone in his life.

  Danny reached into his jeans pocket and touched her house key. She hadn’t asked for it back. He liked having access to her life. To be a part of something more than a good fuck. And there was only one person who made him want that.

  And yet . . . although he still had her key, he wasn’t even sure if she’d take his call right now. Would she give him that second chance?

  Chapter Twelve

  At the passenger drop-off, Danny got out to help Cary pull the luggage from the trunk. Cary shook his hand. Chloe looked at him. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” he told her. “Just call me when you’re coming back, and I’ll pick you up. I hope your grandmother’s okay.”

  She nodded and turned to leave but then swung back around. “Sheri’s okay now, right? You know for sure it wasn’t her someone wanted killed?”

  “It appears that way,” he told her.

  “Appears?” She looked back at her husband. “What does that mean?”

  Cary stepped beside his wife. “We don’t have a confession yet, but all the evidence points that way.”

  Chloe’s eyes widened, and she looked at Danny. “Promise me that if the evidence stops pointing that way, you’ll make sure she’s okay?”

  Did the fact that Chloe was asking him to do this mean she’d stopped seeing Danny as such a bad seed? Maybe. Then again, she might just be concerned about her friend’s life. Nevertheless, he decided to lean more to the positive side.

  “I will. Don’t worry.”

  “And stop getting shot and hit.” She smiled ever so slightly, and it was the first real one he’d gotten from her since the mess started with Sheri. “You gotta
take care of my husband.”

  “Sounds like a good plan.”

  When Danny left, he started back to his place but noticed a street sign and realized he was close to Caroline Williams’ place. Would it hurt to just check in? Cover a base? Just in case.

  He knew the odds were that Jacob Thompson was lying and he’d hired Pain to do the job, but . . . he’d sleep better just knowing he’d done his job. He moved into the turn lane.

  It was dark by the time he knocked on the door of the white brick home.

  A pretty brunette came to the door. Not as pretty as Sheri, or maybe just not as naturally pretty. The woman at the door looked like she spent lots of money to get highlights in her hair. She wore a lot more makeup than his Sheri, too. Even this brunette’s breasts looked bought and paid for.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, giving him a quick glance up and down as if she just might be interested.

  “Caroline Williams?” Danny asked.

  “Yes,” she said, offering him a flirty smile.

  “I’m Detective Dan Henderson.” He pulled his shirt back to show the badge he still had clipped to his belt.

  Her eyes went wide, and the flirt fled her expression. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, not to worry. I’d just like to ask you a few questions.”

  “About what?”

  “We have a report of a proposed hit on a Sheri Thompson.”

  Her mouth rounded.

  “You do know a Sheri Thompson, right?”

  “I know . . . of her, but I’ve never met her. Oh, Lord. You think . . . I . . . No. I wouldn’t.”

  He gave her credit for not pretending she didn’t know who Sheri was. “From what I hear, your fiancé called off your wedding in hopes of getting back with her. That has to be hard to handle.”

  “Yes, it is. And I was upset, but I would never hire someone to hurt her. Do I need to take a lie-detector test? Because I will. Right now. I’ll get my stuff and do it.”

  Sometimes a person’s overwillingness to cooperate could be a sign of guilt, but Danny’s gut said this wasn’t the case.