Karma's a Bit*h

by Este Holland

  I whistled. “That’s a beaut. How long have you had that?”

  “Since 1928.” She smiled, pleased with herself, and put the gun away.

  “Very nice.” I tried not to smile. I couldn’t wait to tell Jake. I wanted him to worry about me. I wanted him to laugh with me. My new employee. My first employee.

  How fucked up was that?

  Chapter 6

  Jake

  Archer had many different smiles. The one currently gracing his lovely lips was his patronizing smile, one of my least favorites. But I could—I found out—make it turn into his “I’m surprised by your concern” smile. I wanted to ask why he was so surprised. He didn’t tell anyone about his work, but surely there were people who worried about him. He’d mentioned a mom and brother. Oh, and a nonna, which I was pretty sure was Italian for grandmother. Maybe they didn’t know about his actual work, so they were worried about the wrong things.

  “I’m not being naïve,” I said. “I’m just worried he’ll see you and turn around and punch you.”

  There. His smile morphed into a sweet one with a hint of shyness. “I’ll be okay. Can we go back to the girlfriend?”

  I swiveled in Archer’s desk chair, which almost felt like mine now. It had been a week since I’d started working for Archer. I went to his condo after classes, often staying late and eating with him. “Stephanie Fogle,” I began. “I don’t see much activity with the two of them on social media.”

  I turned from the screen and was startled to find his face close.

  His eyes flicked to mine and held. “And?”

  “I doubt they’re serious. Probably a…a booty call, or whatever.”

  There came his slow grin. This one said, “You’re adorable.” The sexy one that kicked up on the side and revealed his teeth. They were nice teeth, shiny and white.

  “I’m not sure how to feel about that smile.”

  Archer blinked, and his smile turned into his questioning side-lipped purse. “What?”

  “You think I’m innocent.”

  Archer rolled his chair away and crossed his arms. “Aren’t you?”

  “Not wanting to get arrested doesn’t make me innocent or naïve. Wanting a good future isn’t a crime.”

  Archer lifted his hands. “Whoa. Back that train up, Jake.”

  I huffed. “Sorry. I don’t like it when people assume things.”

  “You get embarrassed a lot. It’s hard not to assume things.”

  I jerked my shoulder. “I’m shy about certain things. It doesn’t mean I’ve had a sheltered life.”

  Archer nodded. “I’ll try not to assume things about you. But do me a favor and give me your support. I know what I’m doing.”

  I frowned. “I’ll try.”

  “Besides,” Archer said with his number one cocky smile. “If anything goes wrong, I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

  Powerless against the force of Archer’s charisma, I asked, “Like what?”

  “My buddy Greg, for one.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “He’s a cop.”

  “And does Greg know what you do?”

  “No. I told you, you’re the only one.” Archer leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Speaking of that. You told your friend.”

  My spine snapped straight. “What are you talking about?”

  “I heard you talking on the phone the other night.”

  I stood in a rush. “Were you stalking me again?”

  Archer stood and faced me. “I can’t help it. You insisted on walking home late.”

  I leveled him with a glare. “She doesn’t know your name or address, but she was there for The Oil Incident.”

  Archer regarded me with a cool stare. “Do you trust her?”

  “With anything.” Tension stretched my nerves thin. I was about to snap.

  Finally, Archer said, “Okay. But don’t tell her any details of our clients or marks.”

  “I won’t.” Not much. “Will you promise to stop stalking me?”

  Archer narrowed his eyes, but he couldn’t hold in a laugh. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “On a field trip.”

  “You think I don’t realize you didn’t answer me?”

  Archer tweaked my nose.

  We bundled up and headed out to the closest subway stop. I didn’t ride the train often, being slightly claustrophobic, but I could handle it if I prepared myself. Archer told me a funny story about a little old lady and a gun, and that distracted me for a few minutes. We had to switch a few times and took the train to Jersey.

  “We’re going to check out Stephanie?”

  “Yep. I want to get a sense of her. Then we’ll meet with the client and talk to her.”

  “You talk to the clients in person?”

  “Sure.” Archer shrugged. “As long as they keep quiet about me and what I do, it’s not a big deal. I’m not Deep Throat. Plus, like I said, I get clients by word of mouth, so obviously some of them talk about me.”

  I blinked and my cheeks flamed. My brain was stuck on “deep throat.”

  Archer’s grin was a new one. Sexy and a little feral. “Oh, what filthy thought just went through your head? Tell me.”

  “You’d have to torture me first.”

  He laughed, rocking into me with the movement of the train. “Like I can’t guess.”

  I rolled my lips inward and refused to speak. He gave me his “You’re adorable” smile for the second time that day.

  I made a noise in my throat akin to disgust. “Are you assuming things again?”

  Archer’s smile faded, but his eyes stayed locked on mine. “No. Not assuming. Fantasizing.”

  I jerked and stuttered, but the train stopped before I could think of a response. Archer grabbed my hand, making me jolt at the sensation, and towed me behind him out the train doors. People flooded the platform, so I had to concentrate to keep up with Archer’s sure-footed stride. He didn’t hesitate as he cut through the crowds and headed to the street.

  I never went to Jersey. It was too far away and had nothing I needed that I couldn’t get at home. Archer obviously knew his way around. He pulled me along, away from the stream of people, to hail a cab down the block.

  “We’ll head to Stephanie’s work first.”

  “Okay,” I said. I was still reeling from Archer’s earlier comment, but I pushed it aside. He’d been kidding around. No need to go ballistic. “Why do you need me? I thought I was doing online research.”

  “You are.” Archer braced himself on the cab door to face me. “But I think it would be good for you to get a feel for what I do. It’ll help give you direction on what to look for.”

  “Oh, right. That makes sense.”

  “Plus, two guys walking around together is less suspicious than one guy following some lady around.”

  The cabbie glanced in the rearview mirror but didn’t say anything. I was one hundred percent positive it wasn’t the strangest thing he’d heard in his cab. He dropped us at the corner of Stephanie’s salon.

  “What do you do if you get caught?” I asked.

  “I have some cards that say I’m a private investigator. That usually helps people relax. But I have to be very careful when I use them. I could get in a lot of trouble if some cop decided to check on my license.”

  “Which doesn’t exist.”

  “Exactly. Other times, I’ve pretended to have a crush on them or someone close to them. Once, I said I’d accidentally hit their car and wanted their insurance information.” Archer smiled his “What’re you gonna do?” smile. “Like I said, I have a bunch of tricks up my sleeve.”

  “I bet. You have to be able to think on your toes.”

  “And other body parts.” Archer wiggled his brows as we passed the salon.

  Peering through the big windows, we watched as Stephanie stood at her station doing more talking than cutting her client’s hair. She was average height, but the blonde hair tea
sed high made her seem taller. She wore a tight black smock over leopard-print leggings and high-wedge boots.

  Archer checked his phone. “She should take a lunch break soon. Let’s wait and see if she leaves.”

  We hung around on the opposite side of the street. I fidgeted so much that Archer grabbed my elbow and turned me away from the street. I only had eyes for him as he kept an eye on the salon door.

  “Sorry.”

  “You’re fine,” Archer said. “Just try not to look like you’re doing something you shouldn’t be.”

  “How?”

  “Think about something else. If you weren’t here right now, what would you be doing?”

  I kicked at the cracked sidewalk as I thought. “Probably at a new job, slinging fries or running a cash register.”

  “And is this not better?” Archer elbowed me.

  “Well, it depends.”

  “On what?”

  “If we get caught.”

  Stephanie finally left with another woman, and we hurried to get behind them. The friend was a little shorter than Stephanie, with almost identically teased black hair. Archer listened to them talk while I tried not to hyperventilate. He grinned—a smile I hadn’t seen yet (I wondered if that was his stalking smile)—and took my hand.

  I stared at our entwined fingers as a small thrill raced up my spine. The blood in my ears dissipated, and I was able to hear Stephanie’s voice. She talked about clients, other stylists, and the girlfriend’s upcoming wedding. They took a seat on a bench with some pita pockets they’d grabbed at a street vendor. Archer and I did the same. The wedding talk died, and we crept closer. Eavesdropping on the street was a lot harder than it seemed.

  “So, tell me about the guy you’re seein’.”

  Stephanie slumped. “It’s so hard, Stacy. I only see him every other Saturday. He works all week. Like six days, sometimes seven!”

  “Bummer.”

  “But he’s super sweet, though. Bringing me jewelry and whatnot. See?” Stephanie pulled the stiff hair off her neck to reveal a necklace.

  “That. Is. Gorgeous.” Stacy pointed at Stephanie’s chest. “Where did he get it?”

  “He said it’s a unique piece.”

  Archer and I exchanged a look. Brian was giving his ex-wife’s great-grandmother’s jewelry away?

  “Why didn’t he pawn it?” I whispered.

  Archer shook his head. “Maybe it was too easy to trace. That’s why the cops had no leads. He’s not as stupid as he looks.”

  “So, he hid it somewhere. He took it for vengeance, not for money. That’s worse.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “Aren’t they his kids, too?”

  Archer swung around. “Let’s go talk to our client.”

  We grabbed another cab. I hoped Archer wrote these trips off as business expenses because this was a lot of money.

  The ex-Mrs. Hart lived in an apartment with her three teenagers on Morton Street in the Village. Archer called and asked her to meet us for lunch. She worked as a paralegal for a family law firm—the same ones who’d helped her with the divorce and made sure she had custody of the kids. They agreed on a small bar and grill near her office. We got there first, squeezing between bodies in suits, and snagged a high table. The server brought chips and cheese sauce without prompting.

  “Drinks?” he asked, eyeing Archer like a popsicle on a hot summer day that he wanted to lick.

  “Water,” I said.

  “Coke,” Archer said.

  The thirsty server left, and a woman appeared at Archer’s elbow with a tight smile.

  “Ms. Hart,” Archer greeted her.

  “Hello.”

  “Have a seat. This is my colleague, Jake.” Archer steadied the chair as she boosted herself onto it. “I wanted to tell you what we saw today and see what you think.” Archer waited while we got our drinks, ignoring the server’s attempt to catch his eye. “First, let me ask, are the kids all Brian’s? Does he not want them to have the jewelry?”

  Tamsin’s face closed in on itself. She was the opposite of Stephanie, with mousy brown hair tied up in a bun, gray suit with low heels, and light makeup. “They’re his. He gets visitation every other weekend. He misses most Saturdays though, because he says he’s working. I believe him.” She rolled a shoulder. “The kids don’t care. All he ever does is order a pizza and play a ball game on the TV anyway. He doesn’t give a shit about family.”

  Archer leaned in. “Tamsin, we think he gave a necklace to his new girlfriend.” He showed her a picture on his phone that I hadn’t even seen him take.

  “That son of a bitch!” Tamsin stared at the photo. “That’s Gam’s diamond.” Her lip trembled. “I was gonna give it to Peyton when she got married.”

  Archer frowned. “I’m sorry.” He glanced at me. “It’s a little blurry, but you could take this to the police.”

  “Can you get it for me?” She latched on to Archer’s arm and pinned him with a pleading gaze. “The cops had their chance. They didn’t care much, and once I got the insurance payout, they closed my case.”

  “I’m not a thief.”

  Tamsin tilted her head with a wry frown. “It’s a thin line.”

  I cleared my throat. “That may be.” I hadn’t spoken yet, and Tamsin turned toward me in surprise. “But he may not have the necessary skills for it. Not to mention it’s more dangerous, and jail time, if he were caught.”

  A funny little tick lifted the side of Archer’s mouth, but he quickly blanked his face. “I’ll tell you what. If you don’t want to go back to the police, I’ll try and see if I can safely get it.” I wanted to protest, but Archer’s words from that morning came back to me. Try and support me. I know what I’m doing. “Listen,” he continued as Tamsin’s shoulders slumped. “I know some cops at the ninth. If I don’t succeed, I can talk to them for you.”

  Tamsin studied her food without eating much. Finally, she nodded. “Okay.”

  “Great. Now, what about Brian? You still want me to go through with the interior design on him?”

  “Absolutely. He did this to dig the knife in because he couldn’t get anything from me in court. Just don’t do anything that would involve the kids.”

  “I won’t. I promise. What can you tell us about him? What’s his favorite possession? What’s he passionate about?”

  Tamsin took a few minutes to think and eat. I nibbled my mozzarella sticks as I listened, fascinated, as Archer took her through a list he must’ve compiled from his previous jobs. Likes, dislikes, fears, passions, religion, favorite haunts, etcetera, until she had to return to work.

  Archer paid, left a tip, and we headed out onto the street.

  “That was enlightening.” I dodged a bike messenger chaining his bike to a post and bumped into Archer. He held on to my elbow and steered me around to safety.

  “Good. I hope it gives you direction for what we’re looking for.”

  I stopped in a spot clear of people and turned to him. “Are you really going to try and steal it back?”

  Archer studied me, then tore his eyes away to look at his phone. “I…am going to see if it’s feasible. If not, I won’t even attempt it. Okay?”

  I bit my lower lip and fisted my hands to stop from grabbing and shaking him.

  “Hey.” Archer stepped in close, took me by the shoulders, and forced eye contact. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

  “You can’t promise that.” His body heat seeped into me, and I shivered.

  Archer regarded me with an inscrutable expression. “My brother is my lawyer. And I do have friends in the police department, remember? So, even if I happened to get caught, I’d be okay.”

  I melted a tiny fraction. “Really?”

  “Really, really. And if anyone happens to ask you any questions…you don’t know anything.”

  His “You’re adorable” smile shot me in the heart, and I took a careful breath. I wished he’d stop that.

  “Now, I wanna know—what’s your issue
with getting arrested and going to jail?” Archer asked.

  I stiffened and shook my head. “It’s not unusual.”

  Archer frowned and rubbed my bicep through my NYU hoodie. “Okay. We can talk about it another time.”

  I tried to hide my gratitude, but Archer could see right through me.

  Chapter 7

  Archer

  Something was going on, and I would find out what. Jake was far too concerned about the law. The average citizen considered it before doing stupid things, but this was bordering on obsessive. Luckily, I had the skills to ferret it out.

  It couldn’t be concern for my well-being. Not to this extent, anyway. We’d just met. I had to admit it was nice, though. My brother worried about me whenever he had to bail me out, sure, but this felt different. Deeper. Plus, there was the fact that Jake knew exactly what I was doing. Phen didn’t.

  Back at my place, Jake went directly to my office to start working on Stephanie some more while I fixed us drinks. I placed a cup of coffee on the mug warmer next to his elbow, and he didn’t acknowledge me. It was the sort of thing some people would resent. Most people didn’t like being ignored, but I found it fascinating how Jake got lost in his head so often. It made me want to squish him until he came out of it.

  I straightened and ran my hand over his hair. I whipped my hand away. Shit. I hadn’t meant to do that. It was like my hand had done it a thousand times before. I let out a slow breath when Jake’s fingers continued to type. He hadn’t noticed. Good…

  I squeezed my tingling fingers into a fist. His hair had been so soft. I sat and drank, trying to shake it off. If Jake had noticed, maybe he’d write it off as me being overprotective or something. Yeah, that was plausible.

  I nursed my coffee and pretended I was calm and not freaking out over a simple touch.

  “Stephanie lives pretty close to her work. It’s a nice house with a postage-stamp yard. I’m guessing she still lives with her parents.”

  “Why?”

  “Come see.”

  I rounded the desk like I’d done many times in the past week, only I took a deep breath to smell his coconut shampoo. It hit me that this wasn’t the first time I’d sniffed him. I’d been doing it unconsciously this whole time.