Myra looked down at the dogs quivering at her knees. Their ears were flat against their heads, the fur on the nape of their necks standing straight up and bristling, their tails between their legs. A trifecta that could only mean trouble.
Up high, a fluffy cloud bank sailed past, momentarily blotting out the orange ball of the sun. Someone sighed.
Annie looked at her fellow Sisters and liked what she was seeing. Then she looked at their hands. Steady as rocks. She took a moment to wonder how loud the sound would be this high on the mountain if all seven guns went off at the same time. Pretty damn loud, she decided.
Myra licked her lips. “Turn off the power now, Kathryn.”
Kathryn turned the switch. The sound of the cable car’s grinding gears screeched so loud that the dogs howled. The Sisters rushed to the platform and peered over the side. But all they could see was the top of the cable car and the grille on the side. The identity of the occupant was still in doubt.
“How about if we announce ourselves?” Annie whispered. The others looked at her, their eyes questioning. “You know, a shot across the bow, so to speak. In this case, I think I can shave it pretty close to the grille. If you like, I can shoot off the lock. Of course, if I do that, the person inside could fall out. Not that we care, but we should take a vote!”
Knowing what a crack shot Annie was, the Sisters as one decided it was a no-brainer. “Do it, dear. We don’t need to vote,” Myra said.
Annie did it. Sparks flew, and the roar of outrage that erupted from inside the cable car made the Sisters step back and blink.
“Charles!” they shouted in unison.
One look at Myra’s expression kept the guns in their hands steady as Kathryn turned the power switch back on. They all watched with narrowed eyes as the car slid into its nest, the door swinging wildly back and forth.
Chapter 2
Charles Martin stood rooted to the floor of the cable car. He dropped his duffel bag and raised his hands as he eyed his welcoming committee with a jaundiced eye. Whatever he had been expecting, this definitely wasn’t it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen so much exposed bronzed, oiled skin. Nor had seven women ever gotten the drop on him. One part of him was pleased to see that the guns were steady even though they were aimed at every part of his body. He knew Annie could blow his head off in the blink of an eye. Myra would aim for his knee and hit the pine tree fifty feet away. The others would hit their marks, and he’d wind up dead as a doornail. Then they’d bundle him up and toss him off the mountain. Cheerfully toss him off the mountain.
He knew they were all waiting for him to say something. Anything that would make this little scenario easier. For them. Not for him. He hated the look he was seeing on Myra’s face.
Murphy and Grady pawed the ground but stayed near the Sisters. They could not understand these strange goings-on. Charles was the guy who had slipped them bacon, fed them twice a day, and even gave them root beer on special occasions. And he was always good for a belly rub before going to bed. He had a good throwing arm, too, and would throw sticks for them to retrieve for hours on end. They whimpered in unison, hoping for a kind word. They whimpered even louder when nothing of the kind happened.
Charles had known this little reunion wasn’t going to be easy, but he didn’t think it was going to be quite so devastating. He cleared his throat. “The way I see it, ladies, is this. I have two choices here. Three, actually. One, I can pick up my bag and leave and apologize for this unexpected visit. Two, I can pick up my bag and go to my quarters, and we’ll pick up where we left off. Three, you can riddle my body with bullets and toss me over the mountain. Decide, ladies. I’m very tired right now and in no mood to remain in limbo.”
Annie risked a glance at Myra, who seemed to be in a trance. “An explanation would go a long way in helping us make our decision.”
“As much as I would like to provide one, Annie, I’m afraid that I can’t. Do you know you have a string of frankfurters hanging around your neck?”
Annie ignored the question. “Can’t or won’t?” she snapped.
“Both!” Charles snapped in return.
“You think you can just waltz back to this mountain and pick up where you left off with no explanations? You left us flat, to fend for ourselves,” Kathryn screeched, her voice carrying over the mountain. “Your conduct is…was…unacceptable regardless of the circumstances. We deserved more, Charles,” she continued to screech. Murphy reared up and pawed at his mistress’s leg. “I don’t think so!”
“You want us to trust you, but you don’t trust us? That’s not how it works, Charles,” Nikki said, frost dripping from her words. “Kathryn is right—your behavior is unacceptable.”
“My situation is different from yours, Nikki. I have to answer to Her Majesty. In the past, you only had to answer to me. If I could, I would answer all your questions. Unfortunately, I am duty-bound to say nothing.”
Myra squared her shoulders and leveled the gun in her hand. “NTK, is that it? If there is no trust on both sides, then it doesn’t work. I think I’m speaking for the Sisterhood when I say need-to-know doesn’t work for us.”
Charles looked at his ladylove and noticed that she wasn’t wearing her pearls. Chains with circles draped her neck. Annie was wearing the same set of chains. He didn’t like this new look. Myra wasn’t Myra without her beloved heirloom pearls. He realized at that moment that things had indeed changed here on the mountain since he’d left.
Isabelle stepped forward. “We found out the hard way that we don’t need you. Back in the day, we may have wanted you because you made it easier with your meticulous planning. We managed two missions. And even though we bumbled our way through them, we are standing here in front of you, guns drawn. On you! There is no reason to assume we cannot bumble our way through more missions. Actually, Charlie, we’re getting rather adept at meticulous planning.”
“You used my people. My people, ladies,” Charles said quietly.
“Your people are mercenaries, Charles. Mercenaries go where the money is. We have the money. I rest my case,” Alexis replied.
Charles took his time as he looked from one to the other, then down at his bag. Without another word, he picked up his bag and turned around to flick the power switch that would connect the power to the cable car. All he had to do was get in and then hit a second switch that would send the cable car to the bottom of the mountain. “Then I guess there’s nothing more to say. Good-bye, ladies.”
Yoko stepped forward, but not before she clicked the safety on her gun. Her hand dropped to her side. “I haven’t spoken yet, Charles. I would like you to stay,” she said softly.
Charles turned back to face the women. He smiled, and his tone matched Yoko’s when he said, “I appreciate your vote, but I can’t stay unless it’s unanimous.”
The women watched in horror as Charles pressed the main switch, not realizing he had just turned the power off. Then he sat down inside on the little bench so he could hold the door closed. When he realized his mistake, he stretched out a long arm to hit the power switch. He was going, leaving them again. Murphy and Grady howled. A lone tear rolled down Myra’s cheek.
“Mom, don’t let him go. If he goes, he will NEVER come back. You have to take Charles on faith. You know that. Pride, Mummie, is a terrible thing. Hurry, Mummie, hurry!”
Myra whirled around as she tried to reconcile what she was hearing from her spirit daughter and at the same time saw Charles reaching for the switch that would activate the cable car and take him to the bottom of the mountain. She literally leaped past the two dogs and pulled Charles’s hand away from the switch. “We want you to stay, Charles.”
The collective sigh behind her told Myra all she needed to know. The girls wanted Charles to stay but were willing to send him packing, thinking it was what she wanted. When she stepped back, she felt Annie’s arm go around her shoulder. It felt so comforting that she wanted to close her eyes and go to sleep.
“Wi
ll you get rid of those weenies, already? Charles will be preparing dinner this evening,” was all Myra could think of to say.
Annie laughed as she peeled the string of weenies from around her neck and handed them all out to the dogs, who were waiting politely for the rest of their unorthodox early dinner.
Charles stepped out of the cable car and started to walk toward the main building, the girls following behind. Yoko was the last in line, her head down.
“Honey, I admire your courage,” Annie said to her.
“I’m sorry, Yoko. I should have been the one to speak up to tell Charles to stay,” Myra said. “It’s refreshing to see you have the courage of your convictions. I don’t know what we all thought we were trying to prove back there,” she went on, waving her hand behind her, “other than to make Charles sweat and punish him in some way. It’s my fault entirely. The others thought I wanted to send Charles packing, and they went along with it.”
“We need Charles,” Yoko said softly.
“Yes, we do,” Annie said forcefully.
“I agree,” Myra said. “But we are going to have a few new rules this time around.”
“Do you believe Charles is not allowed to talk about whatever it was that went on over there by orders of Her Majesty, or was he pulling our legs?” Annie asked fretfully.
“Charles never lies. Rather than tell a lie, he simply says nothing. The fact that he even offered up the explanation makes it all ring true. Whatever went on over there, we are never going to know about it, so we had better get used to the idea,” Myra said.
“Does that mean you are moving back into the main house, Myra?” Annie asked.
“It means no such thing. I’m more than comfortable right where I am, in the room next to yours. That’s not to say I won’t be…uh…moving back at some point in the future. Then again, I may never move back in. I’m not that same person who followed Charles to England.”
“I see that,” Annie said, with a twinkle in her eye.
“I see that, too,” Yoko added, giggling.
“I wonder what’s for dinner,” Myra said as she linked one arm with Annie and the other with Yoko.
“Barbara told me to do it,” Myra whispered to Annie.
“I know, dear. I actually heard her this time.”
“Oh, Annie, did you really?”
“Absolutely,” Annie lied with a straight face.
Up ahead, Charles closed the door loudly behind him and walked through the main building that he and Myra had shared for so long. He stopped, dropped his duffel bag, and looked around. He struggled to figure out what was different but couldn’t quite hone in on what it was. Everything was neat and tidy. There were fresh flowers in a vase on the coffee table. There was no sign of dust. The windows sparkled.
Charles picked up his duffel bag and walked into the war room. Again, it was neat and tidy. The computers were on; the clocks were working. No sign of disarray anywhere. He flinched at the emptiness. He continued his journey down the hall to the suite he shared with Myra. And that’s when he knew what was different. Myra had moved her things out of the suite. He tossed his oversize duffel on the bed and hurried to the closet. All he could see were empty hangers. There were no shoes on the floor. No boxes on the overhead shelf. His eyes burning, he stepped into the huge closet and saw his own clothing at the far end, all enclosed in garment bags. When he’d left, his things had been hanging loosely on hangers. Someone, probably Myra, not knowing when or if he would return, had hung them in zippered garment bags. His shoes were in boxes instead of on their usual shoe trees. He swiped at his eyes before he looked over at the dresser where Myra kept the jewelry box in which she put her pearls every night. The box was gone, the dresser bare, save his own hairbrush and his own small box for cuff links. His things were now encased in a plastic bag. He bit down on his lower lip as he made his way to the bathroom.
It was a large bathroom, the kind any woman would love, and Myra had loved this bathroom, with its built-in Jacuzzi and the shower with seventeen different heads that shot out steaming-hot water from all angles. The vanity held only his things on the right side, again encased in plastic bags. The left side, Myra’s side, was bare as a bone. He opened the linen closet to see a stack of hunter green towels that were enclosed in a zippered bag. Myra’s fluffy yellow towels were gone, as were all her sundries. Only his remained, encased in plastic. Suddenly he had a hate on for plastic.
His eyes still burning, Charles walked back into the bedroom, and this time he noticed that the comforter on the bed was different. When he’d left, there had been a green and yellow appliquéd tulip spread with matching pillows. Now a darkish green and brown comforter was on the bed, and there were no matching pillows. It looked depressing. He realized then how alone he was. He hated the feeling. He swiped at his eyes again. Sometimes life just wasn’t fair. He wondered if it would ever be fair again.
Charles stripped down and headed back to the shower, where he stood under the seventeen needle-spray jets and let them pound the tension out of his body.
Forty minutes later, he was dressed, freshly shaved, and on his way to the kitchen, where he was expected to prepare a gourmet meal, the last thing in the world he wanted to do. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when he remembered the string of frankfurters hanging around Annie’s neck. Obviously, the girls had been eating things that were quick and easy.
A check of the larder and the Deepfreeze gave the lie to that. Someone had ordered and stocked everything just as he’d done. He took a minute to go to the back door that would allow him to see the garden, which—he knew—would be a disaster. He blinked at the neat, tidy rows of plants. The pole beans were tied neatly, as were the tomato plants. Shiny green peppers in need of picking peered up at him. He just knew there were at least a hundred zucchini under the trailing vines. Cucumbers were deep green and plentiful. The broccoli looked wonderful. He knew it would be tender and savory. Thanks to Yoko and her green thumb.
So his girls had managed nicely without him. He had to admit it hurt to know they had not only survived but prospered. Which then brought up a nasty thought. Did he subconsciously want them to have failed without him? The fact that he even thought such a terrible thing bothered him. Knowing and hearing Isabelle say aloud that they didn’t need him even though they wanted him was almost impossible to accept, but it was a sad reality, and he had no choice but to deal with it. He told himself he just needed patience. Well, his time in England had certainly not instilled patience in him.
As Charles checked out the vegetable bin and the freezer, his thoughts raced. If there was some way he could explain to Myra and the others, he’d do it in a heartbeat. But Her Majesty had looked him in the eye and made him swear never to divulge what had gone on during his stay in England. He’d promised, and he would die before he would break that promise.
The best he could hope for now was that time would heal all the wounds he’d created. Women, he knew, were, for the most part, forgiving creatures. He corrected that thought. Most women, with the exception of Myra, possibly Annie, too, were forgiving creatures. The only word that came to mind was endurance.
And endure he would.
Shifting his thoughts to the matter at hand, he finally decided on his menu—or, rather, his peace offering. He would prepare Shrimp Étouffée. A crisp summer salad from the garden, some of the pole beans in a light, savory garlic-butter sauce, homemade biscuits with soft honey butter. Myra loved his Chinese Almond Rice, so he would prepare that, too, and hope she understood he was making it just for her. For dessert he would make Rice Pudding with Raspberry Sauce and, of course, pots and pots of coffee. He dusted his hands together, satisfied that in the midst of all the turmoil in his mind, he could think of other things.
Charles licked his lips, crossed his fingers for luck, and started to prepare his homecoming dinner.
DEADLY DEALS
Prologue
It looked like a cozy building, and it was…in the spring and sum
mer. Ivy covered the brick walls, and flower beds abounded, all tended by the new manager of the Quinn Law Firm, a twelve-member, all-female firm, as everyone was quick to point out. In whispered tones, of course. Previously owned by one Nikki Quinn, one of the infamous Vigilantes.
In the fall and winter, the three-story brick building in Georgetown took on another appearance. Usually smoke could be seen wafting up through the chimney from the fireplace in the spacious lobby. A wreath of colorful leaves adorned the stark white door.
The Monday after Thanksgiving, the building underwent another transformation. A fragrant evergreen wreath with a huge red satin bow almost as wide as the door arrived from a grateful client in Oregon. Inside, the fire blazed; the birch logs, from another grateful client somewhere in the state of Washington, arrived like clockwork the day before Thanksgiving.
It was a low-key firm. All the lawyers were friends, each of them helping the others. There was no shortage of clients, but that hadn’t always been the case. At one point the firm had struggled to keep its head above water, but that all changed when the Vigilantes were captured and then escaped. The media had a field day as they splashed the news that the Quinn Law Firm’s owner was one of the notorious women. Within twenty-four hours, there were waiting lines of women—some men, too—forming up outside to be represented by the now-prestigious, outrageous, famous law firm.
Nancy Barnes, the firm’s business manager, was new to the firm but not that new. She’d replaced her aunt Maddy, who had retired to stop and smell the roses a year after the Vigilantes had gone on the run. She knew the firm inside and out, having worked there summers and holidays for as long as she could remember. She herself was a paralegal but had found out that management was more to her liking. She had a wonderful rapport with the lawyers and clients. At Christmas time alone she had to have a friend come by with a pickup truck to take all her presents home: gifts from the lawyers, gifts from all the grateful clients.
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