Rage tickled at the back of my throat. I’d kill him. Sure, it might take a while, me being cursed and all, but eventually I’d find a way. Maybe I’d start by replacing the fat-free mayonnaise in his refrigerator with regular.
The bastard.
Yet my murderous plan had one small problem. Unless the sheriff left his house unlocked, I couldn’t replace anything, let alone snatch the Devil’s Eye as I originally intended.
Being cursed sucked.
In my heyday, I could pick a lock faster than Jack could climb a beanstalk, but not anymore. Now every time I picked up a lock pick my fingers started to tremble like one of the three bears at a NRA meeting.
What I needed was a henchman.
A dumb one at that.
Across the road, a car alarm screeched and I jumped. A totally uncool move for any villain, especially one hiding in the backyard of a man who I assumed might have numerous automatic weapons.
The sheriff rushed from his home, an AK-47 in his bulging arms. He wore a pair of skinny jeans and a tight white T-shirt. The outline of his nipples popped through the fabric in the cool night air. A shadow obscured his face, as well as the person standing directly behind him, but I could make out the outline of a chiseled jaw. A familiar jaw. One I’d recognized from the Maledetto Kingdom Jail. He was the same man Charming had smiled and winked at. What the hell was going on?
I squinted into the dim light, debating whether Asia was the other person standing behind him. The one draped in shadows. Would she really betray me with this idiot? I hoped not, but the more I squinted into the darkness, the less sure I became. Please no, I thought, crossing my fingers, toes, and any other appendage willing to be tied into a knot.
The outline looked about right in terms of weight, but shadows were by nature deceiving, much like transgendered chicks named Raypunzel.
“Who’s out there?” the sheriff yelled into the darkness.
I stepped deeper into the shadows, avoiding his gun’s steely stare and a high-velocity bullet. Somewhere on my left, a mouse ran up the hedge, checked his tiny watch, shook his head, and then ran down. The sheriff took a step into the light followed by his companion dressed in a long, flowing, lace shirt.
Prince Fucking Charming.
What the hell was he doing here?
More importantly, it wasn’t Asia. My princess hadn’t betrayed me. Not yet, at least. Relief filled me, sort of like Little Boy Blue when his STD test results came back clean. But more questions surfaced, like was Asia a top or a bottom kind of princess? And would I have to buy her dinner first?
Guess I’d have to wait to find out the answer to either question. Or I could take a peek into the future with a certain looking glass.
Speak of the Devil ...’s Eye.
The sheriff pulled the looking glass from his pocket. It swung back and forth like a pendulum, sparkling with evil in the muted moonlight. My eyes followed. That tiny piece of metal could save Asia’s life while it destroyed our future. Was it worth the price?
The villain in me said no, to forget the pretty blue jewels, steal Asia away, and lock her in a tower somewhere. But the new semi-heroic part of me had vowed to save my distressed damsel. I hated that part.
“Here.” The sheriff held the Devil’s Eye out to the bastard Charming. “I hope it’s worth the price.”
“No doubt.” The prince smiled, his eyes reflected a thousand times in the large sapphire nestled on top of the compact. “This is the only way. You and I both know it.”
Way to what? I was missing a part of the puzzle, a big part, from the sound of it. What was Charming up to? And why did he have me arrested? Because I was pretty damn sure he did. His “friendship” with the sheriff all but confirmed it. The rat bastard. Was my arrest and subsequent incarceration an attempt to keep me from finding the truth about Cinderella’s murder? Or did he have designs on my princess?
Trading up in the sister department. One dead blonde for a slightly round redhead with jade eyes and a damn fine left hook. Who could blame him? My pretty, pretty plump princess overshadowed his pancake-flat fiancée any day.
I smiled, picturing Asia’s welcoming arms as I returned victoriously from my quest. Shit. The quest! I needed that Devil’s Eye. If I was in full-on villainy mode, I might’ve launched myself at the idiot prince, snatched the compact from his hands, and run off like the roadrunner after a crack binge.
Alas, the union once again ruined my best-laid plans. Instead of holding my thankful and warm princess in my arms, I watched helplessly as Prince Rotten’s fingers curled around the object of my villainous desire. The Eye of the Devil.
Chapter 18
“Son of a biiiiii ...” Closing my eyes, I tried to swear once again, but without any luck. That rat bastard prince. He’d just stolen Asia’s only chance at freedom and my best chance at seeing my princess naked.
What the hell was I going to do? I couldn’t return to Asia empty-handed. I’d yet to solve Cinderella’s murder, and now I’d failed to free her from her dreaded curse. Eventually, even a princess as dim as Dru would discover I wasn’t the famed detective she’d hoped for, but rather a villain with impotency issues and credit card debt. Again, thanks to my former, bloodless wife. Who purchased an ice sculpture on credit? In summertime? During a heat wave?
I sat on the sheriff’s dew-soaked lawn contemplating my options. Murdering Charming held a certain appeal. But how to do it? I could use the union’s curse to my advantage and “nice” him to death. Start with listening to his every word, no matter how inane, and then move onto baking lessons and poetry. Finish strong with a manly pedicure and umbrella drinks. I shivered at the thought. On to plan B, or was it C? Math was never my villainous strong suit.
When the sun rose, touching the grey sky with swirls of pink and orange, I finally stood. A man with a promise to keep and a fairly good plan. Okay, a moderately reachable plan. As long as it didn’t rain. And the union decided to lift its curse.
But a plan nonetheless.
I strolled down the street flipping through my mobile phone’s contact list for my boss’s number. She was the only person able to reinstate me to villainhood, and therefore, end my curse, so I could in turn kill Charming and end Asia’s curse by stealing the Eye from his bloated corpse.
Lots of cursing going on, and yet, I still felt fucked.
I dialed the phone number and waited as it rang. Once, twice, three times, and then it went to voicemail. “Leave your number at the eek,” the computerized voice intoned. A loud eek followed.
“Hey,” I began, “it’s RJ. Call me back as soon as you get this. It’s a matter of—”
Eek. My vPhone call dropped, leaving me listening to dead air. Damn it! Foiled again by Villizon.
I ran my hand over my bloodshot eyes and considered my next move, sans reinstatement. My original plan was to bust into Charming’s house and steal the mirror while Charming was otherwise occupied going about his princely duties, like listening to Liza Minnelli CDs.
The more I thought about it, the more worried I became of Charming’s motives. Just what was he up to? Was it more than designs on my princess?
“Charming!” I pumped my fist.
“Not from my angle,” a woman’s voice called from behind me.
I spun around, nearly slamming into the once slim-hipped redhead stalking me. Her pudgy thighs strained against the cotton of her black pants.
Asia smiled, reaching out to steady me. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Rough night?” Her eyes swept over me, narrowing a bit at my rumpled clothes and the grass stains on my knees. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I suspected my sweet princess was a wee bit jealous, which, sick bastard that I was, made my day. A smile cracked through my lips. Asia frowned even more.
“Well?” Her foot began to tap. “Who is she? I bet she’s skinny. Blond too. What is it with men? They see a skinny blond princess and it’s ‘forget poor, fat Asia.’ Well, I’ve had it!” With each statement her
foot tapped faster until it became a blur of glass slipper and pink toenail polish.
I held up a hand to still her mounting fury. “No princess in the entire kingdom ... no, the entire world can hold a tiara to you.”
Her foot slowed, but her eyes remained narrow. “So where were you last night, then? I waited... .”
I smiled, oddly pleased by the dark circles under her puffy eyes. “Something came up.” Before she could ask what, I pointed across the street to Wendy’s Darling Café. “Let’s go grab a coffee and I’ll tell you about it.”
With a frown, Asia seemed to consider my offer, finally acquiescing when I promised to let her sniff my vanilla scone. Which wasn’t nearly as exciting or sexy as it sounded.
“I’m so hungry,” she whispered, patting her bulging tummy, which grumbled like one of Bo Peep’s rabid black sheep.
My heart plunged. That damn curse. Asia deserved a scone if she so desired. Hell, she deserved a baker’s dozen.
Hand in hand we strolled across the street and into the café. The place was the stuff of nightmares. Creepy dudes in their fifties strode around in tights sipping chocolate milkshakes at ten in the morning as if they’d never grown up. The tights took the Lost Boys’ mantra a little too far.
A grey-bearded guy in skintight tights stood behind the counter. His nametag read: Pete.
Pete bowed low and then sprang up to face us from behind the cash register. “Come with me, where dreams are born, and time is never planned. Just think of happy things ...”
“Forget the happy things.” I frowned at the guy who probably still lived in the basement of his elderly mother Wendy’s house. “How about you just take our order?”
He sighed. “Fine. What’ll it be?”
My eyes scanned the chalkboard menu, settling on a coffee, black, and two scones. As I ordered Asia let out a whine. I smiled and squeezed her hand.
“Make that three scones,” I told Pete.
He nodded, and Asia and I went to find a quiet place to chat. We sat down at a table in the back. Deep red and blue crayon drawings of alligators, fairies, and pictures of lost boys marred the tabletop. I set my napkin down on one particularly disturbing image of a pointy-eared Pete engaged in a song-and-dance number with a group of “boys” old enough to know better.
“Wanna tell me about it?” Asia asked when I sat down with a sigh. I quickly glanced down at the table and blushed. She shook her head. “No. Not that. Tell me about last night.”
I took a sip of coffee, enjoying the bitter burn as it slid down my throat. The acid bite reminded me of the smug expression on Charming’s much-too-pretty face as the sheriff handed him the Devil’s Eye.
I broke the first scone in half and placed it in front of Asia. A trail of saliva slid down her chin. She shoved the scone away. I grinned and pushed it back.
“How much do you know about Charming?” I asked.
Asia’s forehead furrowed, but her eyes never left the vanilla-coated pastry. “Why?”
“I don’t trust him.”
She gave a small laugh. “You’re joking, right? I’ve known Charming all my life. He’s a good prince.”
“No. I’m dead serious.” I frowned. “Charming’s the devil in a lace shirt.”
“Are you insane?”
Until three days ago, I would’ve answered straight away, but now I wasn’t so sure. After all, I’d followed a demented stepsister to an anything but normal kingdom in hopes of solving a homicide, but instead I found myself charged with killing my own ex-wife. My decision-making ability was questionable at best.
“Hear me out.” I raised my hand for quiet. “Charming isn’t the perfect prince that everyone would like to think he is. For one thing, he had me arrested for Natasha’s murder.”
Asia grinned. “Why would he do that?”
“Who knows? I’m not a freaking mind reader.” I took a sip of my coffee. “Maybe he’s jealous?”
“Of what?”
I scowled. “Me. Of course.”
“Of course,” she said, hiding a smile.
“I’m serious. Who knows why.” I sighed. “There’s something going on between Charming and the sheriff. Something sinister.”
Asia didn’t try to hide her smile this time. Instead, she laughed so hard she grabbed my arm to steady herself. Which, let’s face it, fifty pounds ago wouldn’t have meant a thing. Together, we toppled to the floor, coffee and scones covering us in a hot mess.
I staggered to my feet, slipping on a bit of soggy scone, and landed flat on my back next to my pretty princess. Asia knelt on the floor next to me, tears streaming down her jiggling cheeks as peals of laughter burst from her lips. I grinned in spite of my messy self.
Again, I stood, this time without catastrophe, and reached down to help my caffeine-drenched princess to her feet. A dribble of icing stuck to Asia’s pert nose. I grinned and lifted it from her skin with the tip of my finger. It felt warm and sticky against my fingertip. Asia’s eyes grew hungry. I moved my finger and the glob of sugary confection toward her plump lips.
Her tongue flicked out.
I smiled, knowingly.
“I—”
“Shh,” I said, moving my finger closer.
Asia’s lips parted, accepting and ready. I swallowed, the blood in my head heading far south. The tip of my icing-whitened finger brushed her bottom lip. Soft. Gently. I leaned down, our mouths inches apart.
“Ow!” I yelped and jumped back. Blood dripped from my wounded finger. “You bit me!”
Asia shrugged, not an ounce of guilt on her cherub-round face. In fact, her smile lit up the café. “Sorry?” she said with a decided lack of sincerity.
Wrapping my finger in the bottom of my shirt to squelch the flowing river of plasma, I grimaced and shook my head at my princess. God, she was perfect, with just enough of an overbite to make all my fairytale fantasies come true. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and me a rabies shot.”
Asia flushed, the sugar-rush haze lifting from her gaze. “I am sorry.”
“Uh-huh.”
She batted her eyelashes. “Really. What can I do to make it up to you?” Her voice turned husky and hot, much like the coffee dripping between the fabric of my Levi’s and my skin.
My blood flow changed direction once again. My heartbeat accelerated, flipping around wildly in my chest. My breath came in short, heated gasps until I thought I might die.
“Well, there is one thing.” I licked my lips.
“Oh yeah?”
“Oh yeah.” I leaned in, my breath against her neck. She smelled like pumpkin pie and vanilla. Two of my favorite things. “Come with me.” I held out my hand, and she took it into hers. Her skin was warm, soft, like the rest of my pretty, ugly princess. Our fingers locked, mine rough against her soft ones.
Would I ever be good enough for her? Maybe, but it depended on my solving Cinderella’s murder. A task I was having a hard enough time completing without the added distraction of a sharp-toothed princess with a cursed complex.
“Where are we going?”
“To break into Charming’s house.”
Asia jerked away. A wrinkle formed on her forehead. “What?! Are you crazy?”
Didn’t we just have this conversation? Apparently, the curse was affecting more than my princess’s waistline. “Just come with me. I promise it will be worth your time.”
“Fine.” Her hands moved to her abundant hips. “But if we get caught ...”
“We won’t.” My bloodied middle finger rose in the Villain Scouts oath. “Villain’s honor.”
Asia’s eyes narrowed, but she followed me from the café just the same, my aching finger pointing the way.
Chapter 19
We stood outside Prince Charming’s bungalow at a little past noon. The house looked quiet. Too quiet. A tuffet sat on the front porch, a web dangling from the corner. Along came a spider, spinning its way down the web. I shivered, not a superstitions villain by nature. Add a chick, a tuffet, and a spider, and te
rror all too often filled my black heart.
I swallowed hard and studied Charming’s house. With the exception of the tuffet, the bungalow looked like many others on the block, white with pink trim. A sturdy oak front door stood between us and the end to Asia’s curse.
Not for long.
I grinned, my eyes sliding to my pretty, pretty princess standing so sweetly beside me. She looked amazing in a kimono a few sizes too tight. Her breasts heaved against the silk material outlining the imprint of her braless nipples.
Earlier when we dropped by the palace to change our coffee- and scone-coated clothes, I raised an eyebrow in villainous appreciation. She said, “Nothing else fits,” and then stormed from the castle. I had to jog down the yellow brick sidewalk to catch up. Suffice it to say when we arrived at Charming’s that Asia was far from pleased.
“Door’s locked,” she said, rattling the doorknob of Charming’s bungalow.
Damn.
I peeked in the window. The bungalow appeared empty. No sign of Charming. “Wait here,” I told my princess as I strode around to the back. Flowerpots lined the walkway in an array of colors that reminded me of Saturday nights in Easter Village.
Peering into the kitchen window, I noticed a sink full of dirty dishes and empty wine bottles lining the countertops. Either Charming had recently thrown a party and forgot to invite me, or he was one lousy housekeeper. Interesting.
What could a recently almost-widowed prince have to celebrate? The recent acquisition of a Devil’s Eye, perchance? Maybe the sudden and tragic murder of Mrs. Nearly Charming, a.k.a. Cindi-flat-as-a-pancake-rella? Just how devastated by Cinderella’s murder was His Annoyingness?
One way or another I needed to get inside his bungalow to, at the very least, locate the Devil’s Eye before Asia nipped off a far more important appendage from my body. I jangled the kitchen door, but it was locked too. Damn. What kind of prince locked his doors? It wasn’t like Maledetto was a hotbed of villainous activity. Hell, before Natasha’s killing, the worst crime in Maledetto was a boy who cried wolf in the middle of a crowded movie theater.
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