“I love you, Angel.” He wrapped his arms around my waist. “That was hard for me to admit to you, not because I’m too manly to say it, but because I’m scared you’re going to walk out that door one day and not come back.”
“Crap.” I sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“I know your job is sometimes dangerous, but do you always have to sprint toward it?”
“No, but if I don’t get you out of my house within the next minute, I’m jumping you.”
“That means I have about forty-five seconds to do this.” He smiled, then kissed me.
His words raced through me as his soft lips almost set me on cloud nine. The reality that I would be calling Maxim as soon as Justus left kept my stubborn feet on solid ground.
18
Wednesday, 2: 00 AM
Home, Sugar Hill, Georgia
I waited until Justus was well on his way home before I tiptoed upstairs to gather my things and call Maxim. When I opened my door, however, Whitney was sitting in my bed. She held a stop watch in one hand, a flashlight in the other, and a pamphlet in her lap.
I turned on the lights. “What are you doing?”
“Checking to see if that kiss between you and Justus beat the Guinness Book of World Records.” She pointed the flashlight at me. “Next time he comes over, I need to chaperone.”
“Stop it,” I hissed and nudged her over with my hips so I could sit. “He’s going to be in enough trouble for being over here so late.”
“He won’t get in trouble if you marry the man.” She turned off the flashlight. “It’s gonna happen, so why delay it?”
“Don’t be so sure.” I pulled Maxim’s card out of my pocket.
“Oooh . . .” Whitney snatched it. “You’ve only been on one real date with the man and you already creeping on him with Big Hat Hot Body?”
“I’m not sneaking around.” I took the card back and sighed. “Well, not what you think.”
“I’m up, so I’m all ears,” she said. “But hurry up before I get mad that you’re treating my pastor bad. You know how we women get about our pastors.”
“If you don’t stop with the jokes . . .” I texted a message to Maxim on my phone, then continued. “Big Hat Hot Body is a U.S. marshal and one of my PI class instructors. He’s going to give me extra credit if I help find Rosary DiChristina. She’s in danger, and get this: Sean Graham is involved.”
“So why are you getting involved exactly?”
“You sound like Justus.” I stood up and went to my closet to retrieve a warm jacket and my steel-toe boots. “Rosie’s good people. Her daughter reminds me of Bella. I don’t want anything happening to her on my watch.”
“But isn’t that the point of your vacation? You aren’t on anyone’s watch,” she said. “To be honest, I was hoping this time off would help you see that you don’t have to be at Tiger’s beck and call anymore. I hoped you would meet other bounty hunters in this class and learn that there are other bail bondsmen you can work with, or lawyers, or journalists. You have more options than you realize.”
“Where’s all this coming from all of a sudden?” I turned toward her. “I thought you understood why I do what I do.”
“Of course I do. You know I got you. I just don’t want you to get hurt, helping people who don’t want to be helped. You’re a bail recovery agent, not a cop.”
“And that’s exactly why I’m going and I’m sure that’s why Maxim wants me to come. I don’t have an agenda. I just want to find my friend.” I zipped my coat up. “If I’m not back by morning, get Bella to school for me.”
“And what about Justus?”
“If it’s meant to be, it’ll be.”
Wednesday, 3: 00 AM
Amicalola Falls, Dawsonville, Georgia
Rosary came from a long line of North Georgia Mountain moonshiners. DiChristina was her married and now divorced name. However, Rosary was a Calhoun, seven generations of apple-pie moonshine experts.
We were about forty minutes north of my home in some woods I had never been in. Maxim drove a Ford truck that was modified for mud bogging. The slip differential was lowered to maximize the size of the engine and tire performance, then a snorkel system was installed to raise the air intake, a bigger engine with more horsepower was dropped in, and mud tires were installed. Either Maxim was a bogger or whomever he rented it from just returned from drag racing. Fresh red Georgia clay was splattered all over the windows. I couldn’t see a thing.
“Good thing we’re not here for a stakeout.” I chuckled.
“One of the most important lessons I learned from Uncle Deacon was surveillance. Surveillance isn’t just about sitting in a car waiting for a skip to slip up, so you can drag them back to jail, where they should have been in the first place. Nope. Surveillance is an act of perseverance, courage, and patience. . . .”
I rolled my eyes. “Surveillance is also an act of silence. We need to be able to hear the difference between normal and someone stoking the still.”
He grinned. “So you did pay attention in class.”
I motioned my hands, as if I were zipping my lips.
He chuckled. “I guess you took some miming classes, too.”
I tried to hold my tongue, but he was pushing it.
“I fish in Jackson Lake most mornings,” he said. “That’s why my truck looks like this.”
“This is your truck?”
“Yeah.” He turned to me. “What, you thought I asked someone for this?”
“I thought you were dressing like a country boy because that was a part of your marshal shtick. I didn’t think you actually were one.”
He gave a crooked smile. That tickled me more. I looked away from him.
“Why do you think Rosary would be hiding out here?” I asked.
“This isn’t hiding it’s her home and home is the first place we look.”
I nodded. “You could be right.”
He turned to me. “Why do you say that?”
“Because I hear footsteps. Someone is coming,” I whispered.
19
Wednesday, 4: 00 AM
Amicalola Falls, Dawsonville, Georgia
“You stay in the car. I’ll handle this.” Maxim pulled out his gun and quietly stepped out the truck.
I tried to glance toward the sound before he left, but all I saw was the gleam of two flashlights moving toward each other. I noticed the outline of a truck not too far from them. I couldn’t make out the number of people out there with Maxim or in that truck. I took note of that plus the size of my small gun and ducked down in the truck. Men in woods carried rifles, so I was outgunned. I decided to wait for five minutes and then crawl out, to see if Maxim needed me. I really hoped that he could handle himself.
During that time every cricket chirp and twig snap made my skin jump. It couldn’t be dark enough, the oak leaves couldn’t camouflage enough, and the stillness outside wasn’t quiet enough, to make me feel safe. I felt like a sitting duck in that mud truck, waiting to be snatched and taught a lesson for being the only African American woman snooping around moonshine stills in one of the most racist places on the planet at dark thirty in the morning.
It was understood that Atlanta wasn’t like the rest of Georgia, especially here. North Georgia moonshiners didn’t have the best legacy with my kind and Maxim. Back in the day some of them had teamed up with the KKK to defend themselves against the Internal Revenue Service. As bad as I hated to admit it Tiger was right when he said there were “places we still can’t go in Georgia without a little help.” Shoot, I thought I’d seen a noose still hanging from a tree on the drive up.
I grew more scared for Maxim by the minute and began to second-guess my decision to save Rosary. I prayed she would show up and save us.
There was a tap on the driver’s-side window. I pushed my back against the passenger door. My legs were balled up, but my hands were steady and ready to defend.
The driver’s-side door popped open. Without hesitation, I slid my gun
from my back, cocked it, and prepared to squeeze.
“Angel, if you shoot me, I’ll kill you,” Maxim said.
I sighed, while disarming my gun. “What happened out there?”
“An ATF member on my task force tipped me off of this place. That’s who I was just talking to. A couple of days ago he and his partners found a still near here rumored to be Calhoun’s.”
“Did he know anything about Rosary?”
“He knew a lot since Rosie is his informant. The short version is that Rosary isn’t here. She was spotted in Atlanta getting a ticket at Greyhound. Thinking she’s heading South, I alerted the marshal down there to keep an eye out.”
“Heading South where?”
“Georgia. That’s all I have for now,” he said.
“So we’re done here?” I hopped back onto the seat.
“Yep and no. We’re not walking down to that still, so you can take those boots off and put on the ballet slippers in your purse. Class is over.” He slammed his door shut.
“I’m keeping my boots on.” I pouted and clutched my bag to my chest. “And stay out of my purse.”
“Zip that thing up, better yet, don’t bring a purse, else it’s game.” There was a hint of aggravation in his voice. “By the way, why were you curled up under my seat like a fraidycat? Is that what they teach you at Bounty Hunter Camp, because I know Unc didn’t teach you that.”
“And I guess he didn’t teach you any manners. You left me parked near the last house on the left underneath hanging trees in the KKK playground. I would be stupid not to hide. I don’t like feeling trapped.”
“I hope you’re not like that with the Reverend.” He chuckled as he turned the ignition.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You said you didn’t like feeling trapped, yet you’re dating a man of the cloth. If that’s not a trapped situation, I don’t know what is.”
“Are you married or are you one of those guys who think that marriage is a form of imprisonment?”
“I’m married. Married to my badge for ten good years.” He revved the engine. “So that’s why you’re doing Running of the Brides. You’re a First Lady in the making. I get it, but don’t get how you were going to help me find Rosary by attending.”
“I’m not going for myself. I’m on the congresswoman’s daughter’s bridal team. After I help her find her gown we were going to meet Elaine at her town hall meeting. Sean, of course, will be there . . . without his lawyers.”
“Hmm . . .” He grinned as he drove us away. “So you’re a bridesmaid. Now that’s a shame. You look like bride material, especially with those steel-toe boots. Very cute. I didn’t know they came that small.”
I frowned. “You’re getting way too personal with me, Marshal.”
“I’m not getting personal enough.”
I huffed and threw my hands in my lap.
“By the way, you couldn’t wear those down to the still. It would tip off the shiners that someone was out there snooping around and that would ruin our surveillance operation. That’s something they don’t teach you at Bounty Hunter Camp. How well do you know Rosary DiChristina?”
“I know her well enough to know that she didn’t take a Greyhound to South Georgia.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Maxim, skips don’t take the slowest thing on the planet to get away from the law.” I sighed. “Besides, she’s a mom like me. There’s no way she would have left her daughter. She would’ve taken her with her.”
“How do you know her daughter’s not with her?”
“Who told your guy that Rosary had bought a ticket? Should be two.”
He turned to me, then quickly back to the road. “I can check on that. Good work.”
I smiled. “Why, thank you.”
“If you want to skip class in a few hours, get some rest, spend time with your child, you have my permission. I’m subbing for Unc today. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you have your required hours for the certification. This definitely qualifies as extra credit. We’ll mail you your certificate.”
“What? Did I do something wrong?”
Maxim didn’t say another word to me until he pulled into my driveway.
“Thanks for the tip about Rosary. I agree. She’s still here. Probably trying to find a way to get her daughter out of here without being noticed. I’m gonna call WITSEC to help her. I should have called them first.”
“Can you tell whether Elaine’s in trouble? Is this just about the moonshine?”
“Ms. Crawford, I’m not supposed to divulge any more information than I already have. But I’ll tell you that the congresswoman has nothing to do with this. It’s a simple case of a few bars trying to shortchange the IRS on the new liquor tax. Rosary’s in deep, because it’s in her blood. Thank you for being of service.”
He opened my door for me and waited until I unlocked the front door and went inside.
“What just happened?” I said to myself as I watched Maxim drive away.
“That’s what I want to know,” Justus said from behind me.
I spun around. He had his tracksuit on. I checked my watch. Whitney must have let him inside after his usual morning run, but I wasn’t here. I was screwed.
I gulped. “Justus, it’s not what you think.”
20
Wednesday, 5:30 AM
Home, Sugar Hill, Georgia
My home had a wraparound porch on the first level. When I bought the place, I thought it was the best thing smoking. I put a bed swing on it so that Bella and I could take a nap or sleep under the stars in it. Now I’m always concerned some vagrant will break in just to sleep for the night. As I watched Justus sitting there in the dark, I thought about a different kind of sleeping together. My cheeks burned as I walked closer to him.
“Do you know how many times I’ve waited for you on this swing, to find you gone on one of your manhunts?” he asked.
“No, why are you telling me this now?”
“Because you weren’t here to hear it before,” he said. “Come sit beside me. I have more to say.”
I sat down. As usual, I just stared at him dumbfounded, marveling over how handsome he looked in that running suit. Today Justus wore a white velour Sean Jean tracksuit. It felt cool and soft against my skin. It was quite windy this March. Every time a wind burst through the porch his jacket rippled and revealed a T-shirt he wore underneath. I caught a glimpse of his wife beater, a term used to refer to a ribbed white cotton T-shirt. I wanted to touch his side and see if I still fit there. To make matters worse, I could also see indentations through the shirt. It suggested a six-pack and an impressively massive, snuggle-worthy chest waiting for me.
“Don’t just stand there with your tongue wagging; sit beside me, Evangeline,” he said.
I sat beside him and ribbed him with my elbow. “My tongue isn’t wagging.”
“I know. Your eyes are bulging.” He chuckled, then wrapped one arm around me while I rested my head on his shoulder.
“What can I say? I have a slight crush on my pastor?”
“I have a deeper crush on your new hair. If heaven smelled like this . . .” I heard him sniff my head, then moan.
I giggled. “How can someone with so much game still be single?”
“I’m not single, just in love with a bounty hunter whose hair smells like strawberries and who, against my better judgment, won’t listen to me.”
I cringed when he said he loved me again.
“Don’t worry. I’m not expecting this woman to tell me that she feels the same way yet,” he said.
“But you think she loves you back?”
“Oh, I’m positive, although one would think she doesn’t when she spends the night with a man in a big bog truck.” He squeezed me. “But I do have some concerns. We have some things to work out before that fuzzy stuff clouds my judgment, and as the head of this relationship I can’t let that happen.”
I turned my head and looked up at him. “Like
what?”
“Woman, we don’t do stupid. You left this house after I almost begged you not to.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “It was just business, class, whatever . . . I’ll tell you everything that happened and then you’ll see what I mean.”
“You haven’t told me about your class yet. How was it? Was it worth it?”
I laid my head back down on his shoulder and snuggled closer. “It’s been embarrassing. I blame it on the bad notes Ava took Monday.”
“Bad notes? That doesn’t sound like her.”
“She took great class notes, but she didn’t tell me anything about my classmates or that my instructor’s substitute was my instructor’s nephew. A U.S. marshal.”
“A real life marshal?”
“In the flesh. . . .” I paused. “That was the guy you didn’t want me to run off into the woods with. I should have introduced you two, but I didn’t know he would show up on my doorstep and that you would be here most of the night.”
“I didn’t think I would be here either. It’s getting harder to stay away from you.”
My heart fluttered. I couldn’t say anything, but this was the perfect time for me to share with Justus that he was right—Sean had, in fact, lied. Maxim West and the marshal’s office at first didn’t know anything about Rosie, and then I had opened my big mouth, which sent us out to a place no black person should tread. But I didn’t say a word. I was still tongue tied over the “it’s getting harder to stay away from [me]” thing.
“How mad were you when you found out the marshal with the stripper name knew nothing about Rosie?” Justus asked.
I sat up and smacked him lightly across his rib cage. He had more than a six pack down there. “How do you know this?”
“I listen to God.” He grinned. “In other words, I peep game. Plus, I heard the whole conversation between you guys from the stairwell.”
“So you knew this whole time and let me spill my guts?”
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