market, my love.”
She giggled breathlessly. “Okay.”
The crunch of tires behind us made me grin. My sidekick was here.
“Byron, why is Gerard here?”
“The totes won’t fit in the car once they’re full. His SUV will hold them.”
She glared up at me. “Byron.”
I grinned. “Gerard is even more fluent than I am in foreign cussing. He wanted in on the action.”
She rolled her eyes, pushing me back and glaring at the both of us.
“The two of you need to behave.”
We shook our heads.
With a groan, she pushed past me. Gerard and I shared a smirk as we reached in and grabbed the totes, following close behind.
The door flew open, Mrs. Gertrude Newcombe standing in the space, blocking our way. “What is going on? You aren’t allowed visitors. Certainly not men—and especially not them!” she screeched, her arms flailing.
Gerard chuckled dryly, taking in her overdone appearance. “You weren’t kidding, Byron. What is the hag’s problem?” he muttered in Italian.
“I have no idea. Probably that Julia is getting some. Grumpy old bat,” I replied in the same language.
“What? What did they say?”
Julia’s cheeks darkened. “They said you look nice today. Mrs. Newcombe. I’m only here to get my things, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
Mrs. Newcombe’s face under the layers of makeup turned a strange shade of puce. She poked Julia’s chest with her finger, jabbing the skin as she yelled. “What? You think you can come move out and not pay your rent? What are you trying to pull?”
I grabbed her hand. “Touch her again, you peasant, and I’ll break your fucking fingers,” I swore in German.
“Why isn’t he speaking English? What is he saying?”
Julia laid her hand on my arm. “It’s, ah…Gerard. He doesn’t understand English. Byron said he is only here to help.”
I pulled the check out of my pocket. “She isn’t doing anything. Here is your money. We’ll take her things and be done.”
Mrs. Newcombe grabbed the check and scowled at us. “You can’t have her things until this clears. It might bounce, and then I’m screwed. I wouldn’t put it past you.”
Gerard let out a string of profanities anyone would recognize, no matter the language they were uttered in.
I glared at her. “You are the most obnoxious woman I have ever met. I’m glad Julia doesn’t have to deal with you anymore,” I spat out, lapsing into French.
Mrs. Newcombe’s eyes narrowed. Julia’s nervous voice piped up. “He says he’d never do that. Gerard said your dress is very pretty—very bright and flowery.”
I snorted. It looked like a paint store had exploded on it. It matched the overprocessed hair piled up on the top of her head like a helmet.
“I’ll pay you cash,” I hissed between gritted teeth.
Julia looked at me, aghast. “It’s five hundred dollars, Byron.”
I reached over and grabbed back the check. “Fine. Once we have your things. And I want a receipt.”
“No men.”
I shook my head. “We’re coming in and doing this. If you want your money, you’ll let us in, you…”
“Byron,” Julia pleaded.
“…awful excuse for a human being,” I finished in Spanish.
“I think I want to accidentally run her over, thirty or forty times,” Gerard announced cheerfully, the r’s rolling off his tongue in his perfect French.
“Not sure if even that would kill her.”
“But what fun I would have trying.”
That made me chuckle. Mrs. Newcombe continued to glare at me, and I grinned widely in her direction.
“Do you want the money or not?” I asked in English.
I could see her wavering. She wanted the cash. And she wanted rid of Julia.
“If we help, she will be done in thirty minutes, and we’ll be out of your hair. Otherwise, it could be hours, and Gerard and I will stand here on your doorstep the whole time,” I stated.
“Naked,” Gerard added with a smirk, in Hungarian.
Mrs. Newcombe began to protest when I threw out my ace in the hole. “Or I contact my lawyer, who is waiting for my call. He’ll start proceedings against you for keeping Julia from collecting her things, and he’ll be making inquiries to the Canadian Revenue Agency about the cash payments you insist on from her monthly. Just to be sure that all the income is, indeed, being claimed.”
She went pale beneath her layers of makeup. But she shut up and huffed out an exaggerated breath. “You have thirty minutes. And I’ll be watching.”
“Trust me, Madame, so will we,” Gerard stated dryly.
She frowned. “Wait, I thought he couldn’t speak English?”
Julia waved her hands. “He can speak it. He just can’t understand