by Eve Langlais
“How much are they denying?”
“Nothing yet. The one I’ve interviewed admits to claiming illegal ammo on her taxes.”
“And Pride Industries is involved.”
“Not exactly. The way she spoke her supplier isn’t part of that group. I’ll know more after I meet with them tonight.”
“A meeting. Most excellent.” Maverick appeared pleased, which was why Theodore laid out the part he wouldn’t like next.
“I might have promised Melly, I mean Ms. Goldeneyes, immunity in exchange for the information on her ammo dealer.”
“What?” Maverick exploded.
Now probably wasn’t the time to admit he’d also included her friends and family. “I needed her to trust me.”
“You shouldn’t have made that promise. I can’t guarantee anything until I know more about the situation.”
A hint of guilt flooded Theo. “What if she gives me more intel?”
“It better be more than just an arms supplier.”
“I’ll see what I can find.”
Leaving the office, he had just enough time to drive across town for his next arranged meeting at the Pride condominium complex. Melly had threatened to see him later. She’d not said what time or where. If it happened at all.
In the meantime, perhaps someone else would spill something that would make Maverick happy. Or, at the very least, stop making Theo contemplate the merits of going postal. Or in that case, would it be going taxing?
He pulled up to the gate, and this time was buzzed right in. He parked out front in one of three spots marked for visitors. When he walked in, someone in the lounge area shouted, “It’s the IRS dude. Hide your assets, ladies.”
Which involved the buttoning of cleavage and engendered much giggling.
He was not amused. He turned on his heel to give them all a proper glare. He was wearing his spare glasses. He had several, given accidents happened, especially with how often he went into sneezing fits. Funny how he wasn’t as bothered by his allergies today upon entering.
“Not divulging your earnings for assessment is a federal crime,” he reminded them since he had their attention.
“So is putting sticks up asses, but here we are,” muttered someone else.
Said stick only made his back straighter. “I’m here on business.”
“I’ll bet you are,” was a feminine snicker. “But Melly’s not here. She’s doing something for Arik.”
Arik? A spurt of jealousy quickly died as he recalled that was the name of her employer. Was she doing some of the security work she’d claimed the day before?
Didn’t matter. “I’m not here to see Ms. Goldeneyes. If you’ll excuse me, ladies.” He turned away and heard laughter.
“He called us ladies.”
“Because he recognizes class.”
“You wouldn’t know class if your thong hit you with it.”
“Say that to my face, biatch.
Despite the inciting words, he doubted it would come to a fight. A place this upscale wouldn’t cater to those with the baser instinct to brawl.
Then again…
As the elevator doors closed, he could have sworn he saw a body flying over a couch. Surely a trick of the light.
This time he went to the sixth floor, found the right door, and knocked.
When the portal opened, a blonde woman, almost the same height as him, eyed him up and down. “Well, aren’t you pretty.”
Flustered, he remembered his job. “Mrs. Vandercoop, I’m Theodore Loomer with the IRS. We have an appointment to discuss your taxes.”
Her eyes widened. “Shoot, is that today? Give me a second.”
The door slammed shut, leaving him outside in the hall. He frowned. Especially since he could hear all kinds of noise, banging and thumping. His nose twitched. He took another allergy med, third one this morning. He wasn’t planning on sneezing anytime soon.
He knocked. “Mrs. Vandercoop, I’m not worried about the tidiness of your home. I’m here to discuss your taxes.”
It took more banging inside before the door opened on a now flushed and much more disheveled woman. She smiled. “Just doing a little putting away. I don’t often get male company. Won’t you come in?”
Entering, he noticed the apartment was much cleaner than Melly’s. The floors were clear of debris and dishes. The counters shone. The furniture was actually usable. What was odd was the distinct lack of anything on the walls, made stranger by the hooks on them, as if something used to hang in brackets but had been removed.
She caught him looking. “I, er, um, broke up with my boyfriend. You know how it is, out with the old.” She grinned widely. Not reassuringly.
“Shall we get to business?” He gestured to the table. “May I?”
“Go right ahead. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“That would be a change,” he muttered as he put his briefcase down and opened it. He pulled forth a new file. It held even less information than the one on Melly.
Either these women truly stayed out of the public eye or someone did a good job of scrubbing them. Which was just paranoid. Most petty criminals tended to be brazen. It was how they got caught.
He’d just managed to flip open the file when the perfume hit him. A glance to his left almost had him falling off the chair. Mrs. Vandercoop had chosen to perch close to him. Very close.
“You smell good,” she said. “What cologne are you wearing?”
“Soap.”
“No, it’s more than that.” She leaned in and inhaled. “Oh, look at you. So many interesting things going on.”
He feared knowing what that meant. “Do you have the receipts for your last tax return so we can go through them?”
“A man of business. I like it. Of course, I have my receipts. They’re in the bedroom. Give me just a second.”
She left, and he glanced around the apartment with its slick décor. Similar in style to his, if more colorful. He wondered what used to hang on the walls. The sets of hooks reminded him of those used to hang swords. But who would need so many? And why hide them?
“Oh, Mr. IRS man, can you come here for a minute?” her voice called from the bedroom.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” As a matter of fact, he knew for sure it was a bad one.
“But I need your help. The box with the paperwork is on a high shelf.”
And how was he supposed to help with that given she was just as tall as he was? “Don’t you have a stool or a chair to stand on?”
“I do, yet what if I fall off? I just need someone to steady me.”
It sounded reasonable enough.
Theodore entered a room covered in rose gold and tassels. So many tassels. They hung from the chandelier in glittering crystals. From the corners of the pillows in thick strands. Even the edges of the comforter and carpet had tassels.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“In the closet.”
Walking in, Theodore found more tassels hanging from Mrs. Vandercoop’s nipples. He averted his gaze.
“Ma’am, you appear to have misplaced your shirt.”
“Have you ever seen the Tassel Dance up close?” she asked. Jerking her torso, she slapped him with the stringy fabric.
“Your actions are most unsuitable.”
“Is that your way of calling me old?”
“Hardly. You seem to forget I am not here to act as your entertainment but to do my job.”
“Isn’t your job to examine me? Here I am. Ready for inspection.”
“I’m leaving.” He turned on his heel and would have left the closet had he not come face to face with a scowl. “Melly?” He couldn’t help the surprise in the word.
“Hello, Theo. Imagine finding you here. Aunt Marissa.” The name emerged flat and hard.
“Did you need something, dear niece? As you can see, I’m busy.”
“I’ll just bet you are,” Melly muttered. “Would you excuse us a moment, Theo? I need to speak to my aunt.
”
“We have a meeting.”
“In her closet?” Melly asked. “And after what you and I did? That’s tacky.”
He opened and shut his mouth before exclaiming, “Nothing happened.”
“Only because I arrived.”
“Now, Melly…” the older woman said.
“Not yet, Auntie. Now, Theee-o-o, if you please.” She drew out his name.
He wasn’t about to argue with the look in her eyes. There was something a little wild and untamed in that angry gaze. Jealous, too.
He’d never had a woman jealous over him before. The novelty intrigued. He sat back at the table with the open file as the door to the bedroom closed. What was happening inside? He imagined Mrs. Vandercoop was about to get a tongue lashing from her niece. A well-deserved one.
His theory proved true, or so he surmised, as he heard voices, one of them raised and fast-talking then a lower, calmer murmur that he just knew belonged to Melly. The subdued nature of it turned into banging. Something kept thumping the wall, enough times he almost went to see. When the door eventually opened, Melly emerged looking smug, and Mrs. Vandercoop had found her clothes and a fat lip.
She also had a check that she thrust at him.
“My apologies for trying to defraud the government. Take this and go.”
The number of zeroes would more than pay for any fine. Dammit. But he’d never even gotten a chance to see any of her paperwork. “It’s not that simple.”
Mrs. Vandercoop eyed Melly, whose arms were crossed over her chest. Her expression held a slightly amused twist.
“It will have to be that simple, as I’ve got an appointment I have to make. If I owe more, then send me a bill and I’ll mail another check.”
Melly jumped in. “You heard my aunt. You’re done here.”
“She never showed me her papers.”
“Because there’s no need since she’s not claiming them anymore. Time—as little Cecilia says—to vamoose.”
“But—”
In moments, Theodore found himself in the hall, bewildered at how things had transpired. Relieved at the rescue, but mostly confused. “How did you know I was with your aunt?”
“Word travels in the complex,” was Melly’s grumbled complaint. “My phone lit up more than on my birthday with people letting me know my geek was paying Auntie a visit.”
“I never encouraged her.” It seemed important he let her know.
“Never figured you did. Since my uncle ran off with a woman from back east, she’s indulged in lusty proclivities.”
“It was kind of scary,” he admitted as she led him down the hall to the stairs. Six floors down.
“You should be terrified. Those things can take out an eye. Try explaining that to the cops when they show up claiming she assaulted that guy.”
He paused in the stairs. “You’re kidding, right?”
The greenish golden gaze she turned his way could have hidden anything. Truth, dare, amusement. “Stay away from my aunt.”
Funny how it sounded like a threat meant for him.
She opened the door on the fifth floor, getting ready to leave.
He blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “What time are we meeting your arms dealer?”
She let the door close and stalked close to him, hissing. “Shh, you idiot. Don’t let anyone hear you.”
“There’s no one here.”
“That you can see. But sound travels. We don’t want them being tipped off.”
“What’s wrong with you bringing a potential new client?”
She stared at him in utter amazement, and yet he’d done nothing. “You really have no idea how it works. So protected.” She patted his cheek. “Come on. Let’s go to my apartment.”
“Don’t you mean the cesspool of doom?”
He’d not meant to say it aloud and yet he had, and she laughed, a wondrous bubbly sound that warmed.
“You’re lucky. Today was cleaning day.”
Apparently, it was also one for miracles. He walked into a vastly different space with gleaming floors and counters, not a speck of dirt to be seen, and all the cushions on the couch.
“It’s like walking into an alternate universe,” he muttered, to which she giggled.
“Way to show off your nerd.”
“I am anything but,” he argued. A nerd wouldn’t have such lusty thoughts about a case file. In the past he’d never struggled to separate job from fantasy. This time, he wanted to say to hell with the job.
“You are so a nerd. And I can prove it,” Melly exclaimed. “Your clothes are on hangers sorted by color.”
No point in asking how she knew. She’d obviously snooped in his closet.
“That’s only partly correct. I also group them by season.”
“That’s nuts.”
“I don’t see how. When you think of the different needs of each season, it just makes sense.”
“I’ll bet the stuff in your drawers is folded.”
“How else would you put it away?” He couldn’t help genuine bafflement. Why bother even opening a drawer to stow clothing if it wasn’t rolled a la Marie Kondo? His uncluttered efficiency had increased tenfold after reading her book.
“If I went into your kitchen right now, I’ll bet you the cans are all label facing forward and alphabetized.”
“They are not.”
At her pointed stare, he shrugged. “Label forward, but I group them by type. Vegetable, soup, fruit.”
“Aha! I knew it!”
“That doesn’t make me a nerd.” He knew how the world perceived so-called geeks. He couldn’t have said why it was important to him that she not see him as weak.
“Have you watched Star Wars more than three times?” She fired the question at him.
“Only the originals,” he hotly defended.
“Whereas I have watched Spaceballs about a hundred, Sharknado at least a dozen, and I cry my eyes out every single time I watch The Lion King.”
He didn’t admit his secret love for Spaceballs, especially when they combed the desert. It always drew a chuckle. “I like comedies and animated classics.”
“Tell me a fart joke.”
He blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You can’t, can you? Because a) you don’t know one and b) you wouldn’t repeat it even if you did.”
She had him pegged all wrong. She seemed to think because he followed the rules, he was staid and boring with no sense of humor, which was why he quite enjoyed saying, “What happens if you fart in church?” Before she could reply, he answered. “You have to sit in your own pew. Why shouldn’t you ever fart on an elevator? Because it’s wrong on every single level.” He finished with, “If farting at the speed of sound, would you hear it or smell it first?”
She gaped at him and then offered him the biggest, brightest smile. “Oh, my dear Theo. There might be hope for you yet.”
“Because I can tell an off-color joke?”
“Because you have a sense of humor, not to mention a talented tongue.” She pinched his chin. “A pity we don’t have time for a repeat.”
Why didn’t they have time? “You brokered a deal for yourself and the others in your building that owed, so why did you make your aunt pay?”
“Because she irritated me. She knew better than to play with my toy.” She patted his cheek and sashayed off.
The cuteness didn’t belay his irritation. “I am not your toy.”
She cast him a sloe-eyed glance over her shoulder. “Does that mean no more playing with you?”
“No. Yes. Dammit, Melly!”
“There’s the passion. I knew you had it in you.”
“That’s not passion; it’s annoyance. You’re intentionally goading me.”
“Because you make it so easy.”
“Have you forgotten your fate and that of your family is in my hands?”
“How could I?” She batted her lashes in a manner that was anything but deprecating. “I am ever so grat
eful for what you’re doing. I mean, what girl doesn’t want to have the threat of jail time used as blackmail so you can get what you want?”
The astuteness of the accusation roused guilt and a rare heat in his cheeks. “It’s not blackmail. Merely an alternative to your situation.”
Her throaty chuckle touched him and brought a shiver. “You can call it what you like, Theo. It’s extortion, pure and simple. But lucky for you, I don’t mind. You want to meet my ammo supplier, then so be it. Just don’t blame me if things go sideways.” A sad cast pulled down the corners of her lips.
“You won’t be implicated. My office will merely ensure they are conducting their business legally and if not notify the appropriate channels.”
Melly snorted. “They’re selling ammo that’s banned for civilian use in the USA. Of course, they’re not legal. But that’s between you, whatever division you narc for, and them. Although I will say don’t come crying when they break your kneecaps.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You’re so cute when you’re wrong.” She shook her head, and he had to wonder if he’d imagined that moment in the shower.
The wanton woman. The passion…
“What time are we going?”
“Soon. But I have to change first.” She began to strip, showing just how her place got wrecked each week.
The shirt hit the floor, and unthinking, he bent to grab it, following in her wake. Her pants were around her ankles as he walked into the bedroom. She kicked them across the floor as she headed for the closet. Her thong formed a heart at the top of her ass.
He leaned to get the clothes on the floor, and she turned, presenting him with the red heart fabric barely covering her mound.
“Mmm. Theo. Naughty boy. If only we had time, but Marney keeps very strict office hours. If we’re going to make this work, we have to make it quick.”
He might have stupidly asked what work, only, as he straightened, she pushed him until his back hit a wall. Her mouth meshed with his, the kiss hot and consuming. The lust rose quick within.
Her hands unbuckled his pants and freed him, her grasp firm, his gasp loud. She angled his cock toward her pussy, but she was too short for it to work, so she climbed him. Her arms around his neck, she wrapped her legs around his hips and held on. A good thing the wall held him because, without any kind of real foreplay, she impaled herself on him.