High Voltage (Ramsey Security #3)

“He sends my mom cards and calls her once a week. He won’t say where he is, and he didn’t come home for Dad’s funeral. I know he probably couldn’t, but it still pissed me off.”


Minka studies me from behind her giant glasses. “Are you pissed because he was a cop or because he was a rat cop?”

“Both.”

“Or are you mad because the brother you idealized kept secrets from you?”

Narrowing my eyes, I mutter, “I didn’t idealize him.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“I looked up to him a little.”

“Don’t lie to your future wife.”

I roll my eyes but admire her ability to fuck with me. “Low blow.”

“It’s okay if you feel like he betrayed you. I just want you to be honest about why you’re mad.”

“Fine, I’m mad because he had to be a dickhead and go on his own and do his stupid bullshit and lie about it all.”

“Do you want to talk to him?”

Shrugging, I’ve considered her question a million times.

“If he contacted you, would you take the call?” Minka asks.

“Sure, just to tell him to fuck off.”

Minka’s soft fingers caress my face. I wish I weren't wearing the stupid makeup so I could feel her better.

“My brother always seemed like the coolest guy,” I admit. “He was a do-gooder as a kid too. I knew that, but having him be a rat cop was too much.”

“I’m sorry he disappointed you.”

“Our lives are just too different. Even now, he wouldn’t approve of my choices. I think it’s best to remember him the way he was when we were kids.”

Removing her glasses, Minka takes my hand and smiles at me. Somehow these small gestures make me feel better. Love is a powerful fucking tonic.

“It breaks my heart to see you unhappy,” she says.

“You’re a good woman, Minka.”

Blinking rapidly, she looks a little teary-eyed. I squeeze her hand and distract her by whining about my wig again. Minka smiles appreciatively. Neither of us wants to lose sight of the day’s plans.





26


Minka

Bang Bang Bang

If I ever have henchmen, and they know the enemy is on the move, I’ll be sure to instruct the idiots not to get drunk. Black clearly didn’t have this talk with his deputies, since they’re wasted an hour after arriving at the blond one’s house.

“These dipshits love blowjobs,” Dino says as if he isn’t talking about every guy ever.

While sliding on my boots, I bang my knee on the dashboard. “Crap! Stop distracting me with your whining.”

“You seem tense. Want a pussy massage?”

I can’t help laughing at his earnest expression. “Once the prostitutes leave, we’ll get the job done. I’m sick of this fucking car.”

Dino smiles at my frustration. He’s already wiggled his way out of the old man outfit and into his all-black commando clothes.

“I love you,” he says, his tone startling me. “I’m not worried about us making it out of this job alive. I still want you to know that I do love you, and this trip hasn’t been an elaborate game by a bored retired hitman.”

“Did you purposely make that declaration sound like you might be playing an elaborate game?”

“No. I just have a way with words.”

Taking his hand, I press the palm against my cheek. The gobs of makeup keep me from truly feeling his touch. I reach forward and rest my hand on his chest so I can feel his heartbeat.

“I love you too. No man has ever gotten close to making me love them, and you did it in four days.”

“When it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen despite the redneck atmosphere and your unwillingness to accept my perfection.”

“I did fight it.”

“Not for long.”

“I don’t believe in wasting time.”

Dino gives me a great smile, and my heart beats too fast. I even worry this might be our goodbye.

“You’re going to have my kids, Apples. No way can you do that if one of us doesn’t make it through the night,” he says, sensing my fears.

“Well, there’s that.”

Dino takes my hand from his chest and kisses the palm and then my wrist. This gesture makes me frigging blush.

“Gets the girls every time,” he teases.

“If you’re hoping I’ll change Italian Sausage to Don Juan, it’s just not happening.”

“I already have a suave real name.”

“That you do,” I say.

“Hookers on the move.”

Still holding Dino’s hand, I watch the two prostitutes leave the house. They look in a hurry, likely hoping to find paying customers.

“No neighbors out and about,” Dino says, looking through the night vision goggles. “Looks like the assholes are watching porn and opening up a new six pack.”

“Ready, Mister Sausage?”

“Yes, future Missus Sausage.”

I lean over and kiss him. Our lips want more. My body still hums from our last romp hours earlier. Work comes first. Tonight anyway. In the future, I can imagine the world shrinking to only Dino and me.