by Debbie Mason
“Jesus, kid, you went and warned Charlie, didn’t you?” Admiration warred with fear for what might’ve happened to Teddy had the men seen her.
She gave a jerky nod. “Charlie pretends his hearing is fine, but it’s not. I waited on our deck in the shadows, you know, to be sure they weren’t going to come around to the back. When I heard the front doorbell, I ran over here and climbed in the window.” She gave her mother a sheepish look and lifted a shoulder. “Charlie leaves it open in case I need anything.”
“He gave you the key that night, didn’t he?” Shay said.
“Yeah. When I found him, he was just sitting on one of the beds staring at some papers. He was acting all weird. I shook him and told him about the men. He snapped out of it then. We hid in the attic until they were gone.”
Costello’s men wouldn’t have left like that, no matter what Teddy would have them believe. “They broke in, didn’t they? Searched the house?”
Teddy swallowed and nodded, the fear she’d felt that night visible in her light blue eyes. Shay hoped that was enough to scare the kid straight. She was too brave for her own good. “They wrecked the place, pulling things apart, turning furniture over. I came back after school on Friday and cleaned it up.”
“Did you notice anyone watching the house? No one came in to search a second time?”
“I saw the car Wednesday and Thursday, but they didn’t come in. Me and Charlie put papers in the doors and window, so I’d be able to tell. He told me not to come back for a couple of days in case they did.”
“All right, so what did Charlie do after you got out of the attic? Where did he go?”
“He said it was safer if I didn’t know. He’s okay, right?”
Maybe it was just wishful thinking on Shay’s part, but she thought he was. “For now, he is. Has he called you? Did he give you a number where he could be reached?”
She shook her head. “He said you’d come. He said you’d come and help him.”
A million deep breaths weren’t going to alleviate the stress bubbles expanding in her chest. The only thing that would help was action. No matter what she promised Michael, Shay couldn’t just sit by and do nothing.
Libby moved her coffee cup back and forth. “I’m really sorry about Charlie, but I’ve got bigger problems. Like no money coming in, thanks to you. Teddy says you told her you’d come up with a plan to help us, and I’m all ears. Plan away, lady.”
“Seriously? You have bigger problems than my uncle? Lady, he has the East Coast mob after him. You don’t get much bigger than that,” she snapped at the woman, avoiding Teddy’s and Gabby’s anxious eyes. Dammit, dammit, dammit, she swore in her head. “All right, fine. Give me the name of your club and your boss, and I’ll get your job back.”
“Shaybae, that’s the thing. Her club, Pussy Cat East, has a new boss, Danny Costello, and her old boss, Frisky Freddy, was found dead the other day.”
Shay smiled. “Well, Libby, it looks like today’s your lucky day. I’m going to solve Charlie’s problem and yours.” She got up off the chair. “Let’s get to work.”
The four of them frowned at her. “What do you mean, work? I might not be the best mom on the planet, but I’m not putting my kids to work at the pub. They’re not even allowed in the Salty Dog.”
“Sure they are if they’re with me, but that’s not what I was talking about. You guys have ten hours to turn me into a stripper.”
* * *
It was four-thirty on Tuesday afternoon and Michael had arrived home to find a note from his mother to come to the manor. Yes, his mother, who was still living with him. Michael had arranged to take his father to his favorite hole-in-the-wall diner near headquarters in hopes of getting to the bottom of his parents’ marital problems. The only thing he’d come away with was the knowledge that both his parents were apparently happy with their current living arrangements. And either his brothers had moved and hadn’t told him or they were avoiding his phone calls.
He opened the heavy door to Greystone Manor. “Hey, Jeeves, have you seen my mother? She said something about eating at the manor tonight.” He was hoping to convince her to order takeout and eat at home.
He’d been gone since seven that morning and wanted to spend some time outside with Atticus. It was the first semi-decent day weather-wise since they’d moved into the cottage, and the sun would set in about half an hour.
Jasper grimaced and tugged on his ear.
The smile Michael had offered the older man upon entering the manor fell. “What is it?”
“It appears your mother has joined the Widows Club, Master Michael.”
“My dad isn’t dead.”
“Yes, well, they’ve been known to bend the rules in certain circumstances. Take Ava and Lexi, for example. They were divorcées, not widows.”
“Okay, so that aside, you know as well as I do that my mother’s a…Well, she’s a snob, Jeeves. She hates the manor, and all she’s ever done is make fun of the Widows Club. She’s my mother, and I love her, but you’ve gotta help me get her to go home. I don’t want her to hurt you or Grams or anyone at the manor.”
“We appreciate your concern, Master Michael, but we’re old enough to look after ourselves. And your mother, surprisingly, has been quite genial. I’d go so far as to say she’s a changed woman.”
“Really? Well that’s good to hear at least,” Michael said, knowing he should be relieved, but something didn’t feel right. He understood what Jasper was saying, though. He’d seen a change in Maura too. She’d been less strident and demanding with him.
“Yes, it is. But as to assisting you to get Maura to return to your father, I think that may prove to be bigger than us. We may require divine intervention.” He looked at the black cat at his feet. “You know what I mean, don’t you, Simon? Yes, you go off and let her know, won’t you?” Jasper said as the cat slunk away.
Michael looked from the cat to Jasper. “Is there something you want to talk about? You’re feeling okay, aren’t you? No issues we should know about? You’re as much a member of this family as anyone, Jeeves. I hope you know that and feel like you can come to any one of us at any time.”
“That’s most kind of you, Master Michael. And I do appreciate it. Rest assured, I’m well. But I’m afraid your mother has no intention of leaving until”—he clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his polished black shoes—“you’re happily married.”
“What?”
“Yes, and I’m afraid it’s even worse than you’re imagining. She now has the Widows Club in her corner. They’re gathering in the dining room as we speak…with the first two candidates.”
“Candidates?”
“Matrimonial candidates.”
Michael turned to leave.
Jasper stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Do yourself a favor and go along with them. They’ll hunt you down if you don’t, and you’ll never know a moment’s peace. Trust me, I’ve been watching them operate for years. I’ll help you outmaneuver them.”
“Michael darling, there you are. Come join us for tea.”
He turned to see his mother and his grandmother standing arm and arm at the top of the stairs leading down into the dining room. He raised a hand and forced a smile for the two women he loved. Two women who just over a year before had barely been able to utter a civil word to each other. “I’ll be right there. I’m just having a word with Jasper.” Michael squinted at the poster sitting on a brass easel near Maura and Kitty. “Tell me that’s not a picture of me.”
“I wish I could, Master Michael. But it’s an excellent photograph.”
“I can’t read what it says above the photo.”
“Bachelor of the month. I’m afraid they’re using it in all the manor’s promotional material and social media accounts. If it makes you feel better, Sophie says it’s been excellent publicity. We’ve never had so many hits.”
He scowled at the man. “I can’t tell you how much better that makes me feel, Jeeves.”
“Quite. And I’m afraid the news only gets worse.”
“How could it possibly get worse than this? My mother and grandmother are trying to auction me off to the highest bidder like a…like a piece of meat.”
“Oh, I wasn’t aware you knew about the auction.”
“What auction?”
“You just said…Ah, I see, you were being facetious. Well, you have the dubious distinction of being February’s bachelor of the month.” At Michael’s blank look, he continued. “The official month of love, the month when every single woman wants a man in her life.”
“Why?”
Jasper sighed. “You’re a highly intelligent man, Master Michael. But I must say your lack of knowledge about love and the fairer sex is somewhat shocking.”
“No, it’s your lack of knowledge of the modern woman, Jeeves. Maybe back in your day all women wanted was a man, but not now. Take Shay, for example. Do you really think she’s sitting at home counting down the days to Valentine’s Day and worrying she won’t have a date or be in love by then? Yeah, I don’t think so.”
“You’d be surprised how little changes, Master Michael. And while Ms. Angel might not be actively seeking love, as Valentine’s Day approaches, it will most definitely be on her mind. You should take advantage of that.”
“Even if she showed the slightest interest in me, which she doesn’t, I have to keep my distance until I figure out how deep she and Charlie are involved in my case. I can’t let personal feelings get in the way of doing my job. This is my first case as an agent, and I don’t want to blow it. I gave up a lot to get to where I am today.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you’re at a loss when it comes to love. After all, you did almost marry Ms. Adams.”
“And why was I twelve hours shy of making the biggest mistake of my life? I see it’s dawning on you now. My mother, Jeeves. My mother set me up with Bethany, and I promised myself I’d never let her set me up again. So as much as you think I should just go along with them, I can’t take the risk. Please apologize to everyone for me and tell them I got called into work.”
As he walked down the pathway to his SUV, his cell phone rang. It was his partner. So maybe he hadn’t lied after all.
“Pretty Boy, got any plans for tonight?”
“If I did, I can tell by your voice that you have every intention of ruining them. What’s going on?”
“You know the club Fast Eddie managed, Pussy Cat East? Word on the street is that our favorite mobster has just taken it over, so I thought we’d check it out.”
“You might want to curb your enthusiasm, James. You’ll lose your cool card.”
“Hey, I’m fine losing my cool card if I get to see me some T and A. And, Pretty Boy, wear one of your million-dollar suits. Women love that fancy rich-boy shit.”
He reached in his pocket for an antacid. “You’re trying to get me to transfer to white-collar crimes again, aren’t you?”
Chapter Twelve
Shay stood in the bathroom facing the empty white wall and not the mirror. Afraid she’d lose her ever-loving mind if she saw the end result of Cherry’s makeover. They’d been in there an hour already.
“What are you two doing?” Libby yelled from the living room where she waited to oversee the dress rehearsal. It was hard to hear the woman over the Pussycat Dolls, who were belting out “Don’t Cha” through the speakers.
Yeah, what are we still doing in here? Shay was about to ask Cherry, who was attacking her hair with a comb while Libby continued shouting over the Pussycat Dolls singing “hot like me.”
“The new manager won’t hire Shay until he sees her perform, and she still needs to work on her booty dancing and butt clasp.”
Shay brought her hands to her face, about to do a face-palm, only to catch herself before it was too late. The last thing she wanted to do was draw Cherry’s attention. As soon as her wannabe hairstylist had turned her attention to Shay’s ponytail, Shay had discreetly pulled off the freshly applied fake eyelashes. She figured she’d be good if she didn’t look directly at Cherry. At least in the fake eyelash department.
Everything else was far from good. Shay began second-guessing her decision to go undercover an hour after she’d made it. She’d initially worried that sending Libby in for the information put the mother of two at unnecessary risk, but that worry had diminished during their making-of-a-stripper session. The woman was a total hardass. But just as Shay was about to share her change of plans, Libby confessed that she hadn’t exactly left the club peacefully, and the new management freaked her out.
So there went that plan, and Shay’s next idea of going in as herself wasn’t much better. As a former PI, she had plenty of experience questioning the employees and clients of any number of clubs…and they were notoriously closemouthed. She had no doubt that, if they knew anything, she’d get the information from them in a matter of days. Except as Teddy’s story had only too clearly illustrated, time was running out for Charlie.
Cherry stuck her head out the open bathroom door. “Almost done. Come up with a stage name while you’re waiting for us.”
“I don’t need a stage name. What I need is for you to stop teasing my hair. You should’ve left it in a ponytail. It’s going to be annoying as hell when I’m strip—” The word got stuck in her throat, almost making her choke. “Dancing.”
She couldn’t believe she was actually going through with it. So far, she’d come up with two ways for her uncle to repay her—no more communicating with known criminals or sticking his nose in the mob’s business, even if his intentions had been good. Personal experience had taught Shay not to get involved in anyone’s business unless she was being paid to. This situation was precisely why she didn’t.
Charlie was lucky she had no intention of stripping or he’d be unable to repay his debt to her in a million years. The only article of clothing she planned to remove was her leather jacket. Though the miniskirt Libby had loaned her was revealing enough.
“The whole point is to make every man, and possibly a woman or two, in that club so hot for you that they’ll tell you whatever you want to know and be so enthralled with you they’ll have no memory of what they told you or why. And, Shaybae, a ponytail says I get the job done—wham bam, thank you, ma’am—while this long, luxurious mane of beachy waves says I’m so good you’ll never want to let me out of bed.”
“Really? That’s what my hair says?” Shay asked, her voice loaded with sarcasm and dread for the job ahead.
“See for yourself.” And before Shay could stop her, Cherry turned her to face the mirror.
Huh, so her wannabe hairstylist was right. Shay’s wild mane and sultry makeup said she had one thing on her mind and one thing only. Unless they happened to look into her eyes. If they did, they’d know that the promises of a good time were all a lie. She’d have to be careful to mask her true feelings. An almost impossible feat given how she felt about what she’d be doing and the men who watched.
Maybe she’d let the memories from yesterday come out to play. Her response to Michael’s hands on her at the clinic, the heat of his body standing so close she smelled the citrusy scent of his cologne, and the way he looked…
She blinked, shocked by the emotions that accompanied the memories. She’d expected them to have been long gone by now. Last night she’d assumed they were simply a response to the drama and evidence of his heroics. The explanation for them today was more complicated and unwelcome.
“Whatever you’re thinking about, stop thinking about it right now. Your mouth just flattened, and the edges turned down. Do this.” Cherry moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and then made a familiar fish face. She leaned so close to the mirror that Shay thought she intended to kiss it, and then Cherry’s eyes went wide. “You took off the false eyelashes!”
“If the men are focusing on my eyes and not these”—she pointed to her boobs and butt—“then we’ve got a problem.”
Cherry stepped back
to take in the aforementioned body parts and got a not-particularly-flattering look on her face.
“Excuse me, I’m totally rocking my stripper outfit even if I don’t want to be wearing it. Look at the muscle definition”—she posed her leg in Cherry’s thigh-high black boots while looking down her half-zipped motorcycle jacket—“and abs. I’ll guarantee none of Libby’s dancer friends are as toned as me or as strong.”
Cherry nodded but didn’t look completely convinced. “I’m not sure that’ll work in your favor at the club, Shaybae. No doubt those girls have more junk in their trunks and…” She cocked her head. “What are you, an A?”
She frowned down at her boobs in the black push-up bra. “What are you talking about? I’m a B.”
Cherry gave her a sure you are smile and leaned out of the bathroom to yell, “Libby, get your pal Renee back on the line and tell her Cherry Blossom is making a surprise appearance tonight with her friend…Sugarlicious.”
An hour later, Shay pulled Libby’s white Ford Fiesta into the club’s mostly empty parking lot. They’d decided the Fiesta would be less conspicuous than the Hellcat. Shay looked at the totally conspicuous woman sitting in the passenger seat beside her, who wore neon pink. It had been easier to just give in. Well, that’s what Shay had told herself sixty minutes before. She wasn’t so sure about that now.
“This is so exciting. I didn’t realize until now how much I missed being onstage. It’s the adulation, you know? The men screaming my name, throwing money at me, begging for private time with me and for a lap dance.”
“No private anything, and that includes lap dances. No sitting on laps either. You stick close to me, and you do exactly what I say, when I say it.”
“I have a better idea. You follow my lead on the stage, and I’ll follow yours when we’re off it. Like when we’re questioning the girls and bouncers and breaking into the manager’s office.”
“You’re not breaking into his office. I am. You’re going to distract the bouncers while keeping an eye out for Danny Costello.” Libby had learned that Costello might be checking on his investment tonight. If he did, Shay wanted both her and Cherry off his radar. He didn’t need to know she was investigating her uncle’s disappearance. She thought her best chance of finding the information she needed was digging deeper into Fast Eddie. If she found a mutual acquaintance of Eddie and Tony who fit the profile, she might be able to get one step ahead of Costello’s hit men and find her uncle at the same time. She cut off the voice in her head that said If Charlie’s even alive…