Shelter From The Storm (The Bare Bones MC Book 6)(7)
I nodded, pleased. Randy was coming around to my side of things. “Exactly. Why don’t you come by and watch me for a while? Pretend you’re looking into some CBD balm, or gummy candies.”
“Pippa. I don’t have a medical card. I can’t walk past the threshold.”
But at least he was caving. “Oh, yeah. Right. Well, the Marshal Service can get you one, can’t they?”
He nodded tersely, his lips firm. I knew what he was about to say. “I don’t like it. But I’ll allow it for now.”
I wanted to kiss him! But I wasn’t sure what sort of relative he’d told Emily he was. He’d only come to my apartment twice from his Houston office. U.S. Marshals did a hell of a lot of traveling. “Randy! You won’t regret it. You’ll see. All I’m doing is selling different strains of marijuana, edibles and accessories. I have some ideas for developing plants that have a higher concentration of CBD—that’s the pain-killing property in pot.”
“Whatever. I suppose if it makes you happy enough. For the record, I’m going to put down that you’re working in a pharmacy.”
“Close enough.”
He was firm. “Selling shampoo and condoms. Not compounding drugs. Now get back. I’ll check in on you later.”
I knew better than to ask when “later” might be. The whole idea was that our agents, our handlers, could make surprise visits any time they damned well chose.
But for now, Randy was allowing me to stay on at A Joint System. If I had to reinvent myself all over again with an entirely new identity in a whole new town, this would be a hella fun way of doing it. And it had the added bonus of being able to daydream about Dr. Driving Hawk, too.
Things were finally looking up.
CHAPTER THREE
FOX
Santiago Slayer insisted we stop halfway through the four-hour trip to Pure and Easy, and sleep at a Best Western.
“It does no one any good when you are not looking and feeling your best,” he proclaimed. As though a hitman had to have fresh skin in order to blow some guy’s head off. In fact, he was completely unruffled, not a hair out of place. I figured he was like those drunk people who can roll their vehicles down a steep cliff and walk away unharmed. Too shallow to get hit by a bullet, and that was fine with me. Gave me more time to figure out my plan of action.
We stayed at the Best Western off Northern—the airport one was too noisy for Slayer.
“There is a basketball court if you want to shoot some hoops when we wake up,” he said as we approached the lobby. He had a whole suitcase all prepared, rolling on its wheels. I, of course, was empty-handed. “Unfortunately, we will miss the breakfast buffet.”
For lack of anything better to say, I asked him, “Do you know of any tuxedo rental places around Pure and Easy?”
Slayer smiled indulgently at me. “Oh, planning on attending a benefit? Last year I went to the policeman’s ball in Pure and Easy. Puta madre! Guys were falling off the stage before we even got to the speeches!” He had to close his eyes and put his hand to his stomach, the memories were so overwhelming. “One cop thought he was locked in the bathroom, and started shooting his way out. Of course, it was a tiled bathroom, so the bullets went ricocheting—one nonsmoking king, please.”
“You went to the policeman’s ball with The Bare Bones?”
“Of course! They are benefactors of all manner of benevolent causes around Pure and Easy. It always pays to have the police”—he smiled at the front desk gal—“on your good side. As for tux rental, I know only one. I do not usually travel with my own tux, so I’ve had to use it before. It happens to be owned by The Bare Bones.”
That would be a massive stroke of luck if that was the one I was looking for. I pretended to be uninterested now, just in case it was. “Really? Yeah, let’s shoot some hoops when we get up. No rush in getting to Pure and Easy.”
“Yes, the red rocks are best viewed at sunset anyway,” agreed Slayer. He was actually a very amiable guy. Aside from his atrocious taste in clothes—and cars and décor and movies and probably all the arts—he was actually a pleasant fellow to pass the time with.
Up in my room, I tore off my slouch beanie and bloody T-shirt. Before I even looked at my bicep wound, I googled for tux rental places in Flagstaff. There were three, so after checking out Pure and Easy’s, I could proceed up there.
For the hell of it, I googled Flavia Brooks. How many of those could there be? Shockingly, I had a few hits, newspaper articles from the Corpus Christi Caller-Times.
There may be a connection between a drug bust at an industrial warehouse and the investigation into the fatal shooting of twenty-nine-year-old LtC Russell Heston.
Agents from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms raided the warehouse at Rincon Industrial Park in the early morning hours of October 29, 2015. Those arrested included Edmundo Reyes, Arturo Menendez, Hilario Octavia, and Flavia Brooks. According to police, the known cartel members are persons of interest in the December 2014 murder of Heston, a Coast Guard Lieutenant Commander and biochemist. So far the men are only facing meth and cocaine possession and manufacture charges.
A stool pigeon. We didn’t like those in my trade, so I felt a bit better about rubbing her out. As long as I kept reminding myself my alternative was New Mexico.