Spirit (Blackwood Security, #10.5) - Elise Noble Page 0,7
it. I didn’t want to know, even if Miriam had deserved the flat tyres. “What’s the next task?”
“A request from a resident at Crossroads. That’s the women’s shelter? ‘I wish I could wake up in the mornings and feel safe,’” James read. “Signed ‘V.’ I think we can all guess the issue there, which means I may have to put my fingers in my ears.”
Annnnnnd…we were back to criming.
“V? Do you know who that might be?” I asked Dan.
She shook her head. “I can’t think of anyone there whose name begins with a V. Maybe she’s a new arrival?”
“Well, someone must know her. Perhaps I could pay the ex a visit? You know, have a quiet word. We’ve got over three weeks until Christmas—I’m sure I can fit it in.”
“I’ll give you an alibi,” Dan offered.
“Wow, thanks.”
“Any time.”
James closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I didn’t hear any of that. But here’s an idea: why don’t you send Black to mince the ex into hamburger while you put your feet up and drink eggnog?”
“Quite apart from the fact that eggnog’s disgusting, do you not trust me to get the job done?”
It was an automatic reaction—telling me I couldn’t do something only made me want to do it more. Black questioned me on purpose because he was a manipulative bastard, whereas James just tended to get a little overprotective. And while I had to concede that he had his reasons, I also didn’t like being sidelined.
His voice dropped. “You know that’s not the case.”
That little hint of pain… Shit. This wasn’t a conversation I should have started, and I definitely shouldn’t have started it in front of Dan.
“Okay, I’ll palm that one off on Black. Happy?”
James nodded, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dan watching me. She didn’t understand why I’d capitulated quite so quickly. But she also respected me enough not to ask questions.
“What else does Black have?” I asked. “Anything?”
“Not at Crossroads. Wait… Appletree Acres—he’s meant to serve Christmas dinner to Joan Bertwell and friends. Black playing waiter?” James snorted. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“He’ll have company,” Dan said. “Jed, Slater, and Malachi are meant to be helping him.”
Hmm… “So all the men who Bradley thought should have been at the meeting this morning and weren’t?”
“Pretty much, yeah. Don’t you think Slater would look cute in a waiter outfit?”
“Dan, you’re basically married.”
“Yes, but I’m not blind. Hey, we could get them matching bow ties.”
On screen, James rolled his eyes. “Fifty bucks says they won’t do it.”
Uh, no. I had to agree with James’s assessment. Black could no doubt do an excellent job of carving the turkey, but he wouldn’t. He’d just hire waitstaff.
However, Dan was already nodding. “Fifty bucks? You’re on.”
Oh, fuck. This Christmas was going to be a disaster.
“Well, I guess I’d better go talk to Kiara, Gwendolyn, José, and V, whoever she is.”
James stood, treating Dan and me to another eyeful. “I’ll get the PR team to send a model of Air Force One for Kiara. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.”
“How about passing better legislation to protect women?” Dan suggested.
“Believe me, I’m working on it, but it has to get through the senate first.”
“Damn politicians,” she grumbled.
James just laughed. “True. We’re all assholes.”
A second later, the screen went dark. Dan looked at me, and I looked at Dan.
“Shit,” she groaned.
“What have we said before? When the odds are terrible, you need to think before you bet.”
“I know, I know.”
And so did James. It wasn’t the first time he’d taken advantage of Dan that way.
“Well, good luck.”
“Wait! How am I supposed to get those guys to play waiter?”
“Jed’ll do it. Just bribe him with snacks. And doesn’t Mal owe you a favour for rescuing him from that disaster of a date a few months back?”
“Yes.” Dan blew out a breath and nodded. “Okay. And I can probably blackmail Slater.”
“Ooh, tell me more?”
“Alcohol, three strippers, and a duck. Yes, there are photos.” Which I really didn’t want to see. “That leaves Black. Any ideas?”
“Nope.”
“But you’re married to him.”
“Yes, which is how I know he’ll fly to Madagascar the minute you mention service with a smile.”
“Can’t you help me to convince him?”
“How?”
“Offer sexual favours?”
“Seriously? There aren’t enough orifices in the world for that.”
“Couldn’t you at least try? If you do, I’ll help with your shit.”
That actually wasn’t a bad offer. Fucking my husband wasn’t exactly a hardship—I mean, I did it every night anyway—and Dan