by Renee George
Lucy yipped and loosened her grip. It was the chance I needed.
I lurched forward, using my entire back to twist hard and land an elbow to Lucy’s mouth. The minute she let me go, I slapped the Taser out of her hand. The tiny pink weapon slid under the wall into the next stall.
Gilly grabbed my feet that were sticking out of the stall and yanked me hard until I was out of the stall. Claire, who was surprising swift for a septuagenarian, slammed the stall door shut on her friend. Then Pippa braced herself against the door to keep it shut.
“Nora?” Ezra dropped to the floor beside me. “What happened?” He began examining me. “Jesus, you have burn marks.”
“She’s,” I huffed. “Bad…person.” I pointed to the closed stall where Lucy was captured, her mighty meth powers no match for my three determined saviors.
Two uniformed officers came in after Ezra. He pointed to Pippa. “Go relieve the civilian and arrest the woman in the bathroom stall for assault, kidnapping, and attempted murder. Those will do for a start.”
I held Ezra’s hand to my chest. “What t-took…so…long?”
“I tried to find you,” Gilly said breathlessly. “You didn’t answer my texts.”
“I didn’t get off the phone until a minute ago. I didn’t get any of the dozen texts you sent until then.” He smoothed my hair. “How does someone get taken captive in a commode? And how did you three get involved?”
“I was hiding,” I said, my breathing finally returning to normal. “Gilly pushed me in here to avoid the GCE, and Lucy was…already…” I sucked in a breath. “Already in here.”
“Well, how was I to know? I looked for you first,” Gilly said to Ezra. “When I couldn’t find you, I did the best I could.”
“You did great.” Ezra gripped my elbow. “You okay to stand?”
“Yes.” I looked at him. “The kids?”
“Are with Gio and Jordy,” Pippa said.
Ezra looked as relieved as me. “Thanks, Pippa.” He helped me to my feet.
Pippa gave Gilly a hand up.
I reached back to my BFF and gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Thank…you.”
I didn’t cry. I was all cried out.
“What in the world? Someone explain what is going on out here?” Big Don Portman stood just outside the bathroom door, wearing an expression of outrage and horror.
One of the uniforms took Lucy out in cuffs to a chorus of relieved sounds from Gilly, Pippa, and Claire. The struggle had been too real.
I heard Jameson out in the hallway. “Get out of my way,” he said. “Get your hands off my wife!”
I followed Ezra out of the restroom and glared at Jameson. “Your wife…” I poked my finger at him. “She tried to kill me.”
“That’s preposterous,” Jameson blustered.
“Having an affair with a friend’s daughter, that’s preposterous,” I accused. “You should…be ashamed.” I leaned on Ezra, my knees a bit wobbly. “You and your wife ruined her. You ruined Fiona’s life, and I hope you pay for it the rest of yours.”
“They will,” Ezra said. A murmur of voices grew louder as six uniformed police officers came running down the hall.
“What is this, Holden?” Big Don asked in a friendly tone. “You’ve caught your man, or woman, in this case. Let the guests enjoy the rest of the night. This doesn’t have to escalate.”
“Actually,” Ezra said, “it does.”
Reese McKay strolled over, her handcuffs out. “Jameson Campbell, I am arresting you on the charges of money laundering, racketeering, and drug trafficking. You have the right to remain silent…”
She finished mirandizing him as the other officers took Big Don Portman, Phil Williams, and Burt Adler into custody.
Ezra hugged me tight. “Am I gonna have to put you in full body armor every time you leave the house?”
“Yes,” I said, thinking it was the most brilliant suggestion I’d ever heard. “I swear this wasn’t my fault. I swear I didn’t go off alone, and I just went into the bathroom.”
“I believe you.” He smoothed my hair back. “I’m sorry it took so long. I was coordinating the arrests via phone.”
“How? Why?”
“Reagan McKay. He turned himself in at the station. He didn’t even ask for immunity when he rolled over on this bunch. He said Lopez was the GCE’s guy, and if he was involved in Fiona’s death, then it had to be one of his cronies. Instead of trying to figure it out, he turned on all of them.”
Claire had gone completely pale. “I need to go,” she said. “I need to be with Big Don.”
“Claire, I’m so sorry,” I said. “You helped save me.”
The older woman nodded then hurried down the hall after her husband.
I looked at my two best friends in the world. “If you hadn’t come along with the key…if you guys hadn’t gotten here in time.” The words to express my gratitude escaped me.
Gilly looked at me. “We are your tribe—your sisters—and we will always have your back.”
A few days of rest later, I was feeling so much better. I’d had to postpone my luncheon with Leila, but I signed up for the bone marrow donation drive. It wasn’t until Friday, so I had a little time to get all my strength back. The only burns I’d gotten were in places where Lucy had made contact with my exposed skin. Dr. Allen did run tests for my heart and enzymes and things like that, and I had been in a normal level.
When I’d twisted around to elbow Lucy in the mouth, I’d broken the spasm in my back, and it had barely bothered me since.
It was still too early to know what was going to happen to Lucy and the GCE, but if I had my way, they’d all be rotting in jail for the rest of their useless existences. I had a fondness for Claire Portman and Jenny McKay. I hoped they weren’t involved in the GCE’s dirty business. The relief I felt at having Phil Williams off the streets was substantial.
On a brighter note, I’d called a realtor to list my house, and I already had a new home in mind. Mr. Garners’ vacant house. The one right next to Gilly’s place. Bonus, it was a ranch home without any stairs!
“You guys about ready?” Ezra looked drop-dead sexy in his jeans and navy-blue t-shirt. He tapped his watch. “It’s getting near six-thirty, traffic is bad, and dinner is at seven.”
I slid my arms around his waist and wiggled against him. “We could still stay home.”
“Ready!” Mason said as he skidded out of the second bedroom.
“Or not,” I said with a smile as I let Ezra go. We were all going over to Gilly’s house for a barbeque rib dinner followed by the new Marvel Universe movie. I was pretty sure Mason’s excitement was equal parts Ari and the food.
Unlike his dad, Mason’s clothes wore him. He had on a sweatshirt that swallowed his torso and was entirely too long for his height, but there was an alien on his t-shirt that said, Take me to your Tacos.
I laughed. “I love your shirt. Good choice.”
Mason half-grinned. “Thanks.” He gave me a fist bump. “Tacos rule.”
“Peas drool,” I finished. Yuck. Peas.
Ezra watched the exchange, a soft smile on his lips. “Come on, now. We don’t want to be late.”
Mason’s phone rang. “It’s Mom,” he said excitedly. He’d had only brief contact with her since she’d gone on her trip. He answered. “Hey. Yes. Okay. Yep, I’m happy.” He frowned. “I am,” he said again. “Okay, see you in a couple of days.” He lips spread in a wide grin after he hung up.
Mason had been upset about Big Don’s arrest. Mostly because of how it would affect his grandmother. Claire had shown remarkable resilience in the face of her husband’s disgrace, though, and she’d reassured Mason she’d be all right. Even so, it was nice to see him smiling.
“What was that about?” Ezra asked, a smile lighting up his face. Mason’s grin was infectious.
“Mom and Roger haven’t been in the Bahamas,” the kid said. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything just in case it didn’t happen…”
; “In case what didn’t happen?”
Mason’s phone dinged with a text. “They’ve been in India.”
“Why?” Ezra asked.
He pulled it up and showed us. It was a message from his mom with a picture attached. The picture was of Roger and Kati, and a tiny little girl with shiny dark hair and brown eyes.
Mason smiled. “Mom and Roger have been trying to adopt for a while. They’ve had two that didn’t happen. But this time, they’re coming home with my new sister.”
Ezra smiled. “I’m happy for them.”
“This really is a cause for celebration,” I said. “Let’s get this party started.”
Mason was out the door before us. I stopped Ezra. He put his arms around me. His bright green eyes, as he stared down at me, lit up my heart.
“What’s on your mind?”
He tucked a lock of hair behind my ears. “It’s strange thinking about Mason with a sibling that isn’t, you know, mine.”
I gazed up at him and smirked. “You know that uterine ship has sailed with me, right? And even if it hadn’t—”
He laughed. “Good God, Nora. I don’t want any more kids.”
I chuckled. “Oh, thank heavens. Because for a moment, you had me worried.”
“The only thing I’d enjoy about having a baby right now is the making part.” His hand slid into my back pocket and he gave my derriere a firm squeeze.
I arched my brow. “Don’t start nothing you can’t finish, mister.”
“There’s a reason people call me Easy,” he countered.
“Oh, I know just how easy you are.” I went up on my toes and nipped his lower lip.
“Yes, you do.” He wrapped me tighter into his arms, his hand cupping my neck. “I’m happier than I’ve been in a very long time.”
“Me too,” I said, my palms sliding down his backside. “Incredibly happy.”
His voice grew husky with emotion. “I love you, Nora.”
“Good.” I sank into his embrace and let him kiss me until I was dizzy. “I love you too.”
His truck horn blared, and we jumped apart like two school kids caught in the janitor’s closet.
We looked at each other for a stunned second, then we both laugh. We’d gotten so caught up in the moment, we’d forgotten about Mason waiting for us in the car.
“Your boy’s hungry,” I said.
“He’s always hungry.” Ezra took my hand. “You ready?”
“For you?” I asked. “Absolutely.”
The End
War of the Noses
A Nora Black Midlife Psychic Mystery Book 3
My name is Nora Black. I'm turning fifty-two, but I don't feel a day over thirty-nine. That is, when my feet don't hurt, my eyesight isn't failing, and my scent-induced psychic ability isn't showing me crimes.
For my birthday, my best friend Gilly signed us up for a weekend at the Central Midwest Spa Convention. Yay. Massages, fine dining, maid service, and best of all, as long as we attend a few workshops, the weekend is a tax write-off. It should be all sunshine and roses, right? Wrong.
It turns out that the Queen Maleficent of Makeup and my former nemesis , Carmen Carraway, is a featured presenter, and she seems determined to ruin my birthday weekend. But when a certain hot detective shows up to surprise me, I push aside my ill will and try to focus on my newfound happiness.
Unfortunately, a disturbing smell-o-vision of a gun and a threat has me trying to save Carmen rather than throttle her. When Gilly finds the murdered body of Carmen's assistant in a meditation pod, it's all noses on deck for this mystery. And I'll need all my senses to find out who wants to kill Carmen before she ends up dead. That is, if I don’t kill her first.
www.norablackmysteries.com
August 2020
Pit Perfect Murder
Barkside of the Moon Cozy Mysteries Book 1
When cougar-shifter Lily Mason moves to Moonrise, Missouri, she wishes for only three things from the town and its human population. . . to find a job, to find a place to live, and to live as a human, not a therianthrope.
Lily gets more than she bargains for when a rescue pit bull named Smooshie rescues her from an oncoming car, and it’s love at first sight. Thanks to Smooshie, Lily’s first two wishes are granted by Parker Knowles, the owner of the Pit Bull Rescue center, who offers her a job at the shelter and the room over his garage for rent.
Lily’s new life as an integrator is threatened when Smooshie finds Katherine Kapersky, the local church choir leader and head of the town council, dead in the field behind the rescue center. Unfortunately, there are more suspects than mourners for the elderly town leader. Can Lily keep her less-than-human status under wraps? Or will the killer, who has pulled off a nearly Pit Perfect murder, expose her to keep Lily and her dog from digging up the truth?
Chapter One
When I was eighteen years old, I came home from a sleepover and found my mom and dad with their throats cut, and their hearts ripped from their chests.
My little brother Danny was in a broom closet in the kitchen, his arms wrapped around his knees, and his face pale and ghostly. Until that day, I’d planned to go to college and study medicine after graduation, but instead, I ended up staying home and taking care of my seven-year-old brother.
Seventeen years later, my brother was murdered. At the time, Danny’s death looked like it would go unsolved, much like my parents’ had.
Without Haze Kinsey, my best friend since we were five, the killers would have gotten away with it. She was a special agent for the FBI for almost a decade, and when I called her about Danny’s death, she dropped everything to come help me get him justice. The evil group of witches and Shifters responsible for the decimation of my family paid with their lives.
Yes. I said witches and Shifters. Did I forget to mention I’m a werecougar? Oh, and my friend Hazel is a witch. Recently, I discovered witches in my own family tree on my mother’s side. Shifters, in general, only mated with Shifters, but witches were the exception. As a matter of fact, my friend Haze is mated to a bear Shifter.
I wouldn’t have known about the witch in my genealogy, though, if a rogue witch coven hadn’t done some funky hoodoo witchery to me. Apparently, the spell activated a latent talent that had been dormant in my hybrid genes.
My ancestor’s magic acted like truth serum to anyone who came near her. No one could lie in her presence. Lucky me, my ability was a much lesser form of hers. People didn’t have to tell me the truth, but whenever they were around me, they had the compulsion to overshare all sorts of private matters about themselves. This can get seriously uncomfortable for all parties involved. Like, the fact that I didn’t need to know that Janet Strickland had been wearing the same pair of underwear for an entire week, or that Mike Dandridge had sexual fantasies about clowns.
My newfound talent made me unpopular and unwelcome in a town full of paranormal creatures who thrived on little deceptions. So, when Haze discovered the whereabouts of my dad’s brother, a guy I hadn’t known even existed, I sold all my belongings, let the bank have my parents’ house, jumped in my truck, and headed south.
After two days and 700 miles of nonstop gray, snowy weather, I pulled my screeching green and yellow mini-truck into an auto repair shop called The Rusty Wrench. Much like my beloved pickup, I’d needed a new start, and moving to a small town occupied by humans seemed the best shot. I’d barely made it to Moonrise, Missouri before my truck began its death throes. The vehicle protested the last 127 miles by sputtering to a halt as I rolled her into the closest spot.
The shop was a small white-brick building with a one-car garage off to the right side. A black SUV and a white compact car occupied two of the six parking spots.
A sign on the office door said: No Credit Cards. Cash Only. Some Local Checks Accepted (Except from Earl—You Know Why, Earl! You check-bouncing bastard).
A man in stained coveralls, wiping a greasy tool with a rag, came out the side door of the garage. He had a full head of wavy
gray hair, bushy eyebrows over light blue, almost colorless eyes, and a minimally lined face that made me wonder about his age. I got out of the truck to greet him.
“Can I help you, miss?” His voice was soft and raspy with a strong accent that was not quite Deep South.
“Yes, please.” I adjusted my puffy winter coat. “The heater stopped working first. Then the truck started jerking for the last fifty miles or so.”
He scratched his stubbly chin. “You could have thrown a rod, sheared the distributor, or you have a bad ignition module. That’s pretty common on these trucks.”
I blinked at him. I could name every muscle in the human body and twelve different kinds of viruses, but I didn’t know a spark plug from a radiator cap. “And that all means…”
“If you threw a rod, the engine is toast. You’ll need a new vehicle.”
“Crap.” I grimaced. “What if it’s the other thingies?”
The scruffy mechanic shrugged. “A sheared distributor is an easy fix, but I have to order in the part, which means it won’t get fixed for a couple of days. Best-case scenario, it’s the ignition module. I have a few on hand. Could get you going in a couple of hours, but…” he looked over my shoulder at the truck and shook his head, “…I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”
I must’ve looked really forlorn because the guy said, “It might not need any parts. Let me take a look at it first. You can grab a cup of coffee across the street at Langdon’s One-Stop.”
He pointed to the gas station across the road. It didn’t look like much. The pale-blue paint on the front of the building looked in need of a new coat, and the weather-beaten sign with the store’s name on it had seen better days. There was a car at the gas pumps and a couple more in the parking lot, but not enough to call it busy.