“Fuck that. We’re not a secret keeping group. It al hangs out with us,” Al y stated.
“Except for when Jules kept her pregnancy secret.” Daisy’s eyes narrowed on Jules.
“Wel , you can understand that,” Jet noted.
“And when you kept your engagement secret,” Roxie said to Jet.
“I only kept it a secret for a few days!” Jet exclaimed.
“Yeah, but you didn’t share. We had to cal you out, girlie.” Tod sounded pouty.
My eyes wandered around the big round table in Daisy’s huge, fantastic kitchen and, for your information, I would love the chance to cook in that kitchen. Top of the line appliances, plenty of counter space, expensive knives and shining pots on display; it was an amateur cook’s nirvana.
Seeing the girls al together, talking about secrets instead of freaking out about getting shot at by ful y automatic weapons, it hit me why the Nightingale Men claimed these women.
They didn’t seem at al flipped out that they’d been the victims of violence last night. They were just hanging out, doing girl talk over coffee.
Honest to God, it was bizarre.
Indy, redheaded, blue-eyed and built; Al y, dark-haired, brown-eyed and slim; Jet, honey blonde, green-eyed and pretty; Roxie, also blonde but darker, blue-eyed and seriously stylish; Ava, another blonde, total y knockout, bombshel gorgeous with light brown eyes and I’d already described Jules’s movie star glamour. These weren’t exactly your average women.
But I suspected their attraction for the Hot Bunch had nothing (or, if not nothing, than not everything) to do with the fact that their looks ranged from classical y beautiful (Jules), to sultry (Indy), to girl-next-door hot (Jet), to sassy-girl-next-door luscious (Al y), to sophisticated elegance (Roxie), to downright sexy (Ava), to in-your-face stunning (Daisy). I suspected it had more to do with the fact that this crazy, scary life didn’t faze them, not even a little bit.
And if it did, they didn’t let it show.
They kept bickering and I looked out the widow, letting them fight amongst themselves and letting my thoughts move elsewhere. My wound was beginning to ache and my mind was fil ing with thoughts of Linnie, thoughts such as wondering if her parents had been told yet or if we’d need to do a fundraising gig to pay for her funeral.
Then I decided not to think about Linnie because it might make me cry and thus ruin girl talk and instead I decided to think about the current state of affairs.
It was early afternoon after a wild night, late to bed sleep in. We’d just finished the Big Ole Stick to Your Ribs Southern Breakfast of eggs, homemade biscuits, sausage gravy, sausage patties and grits.
For your information, I’d never seen so much white food on one plate in my life and never wanted to again.
Now, waiting for our “orders” from Lee (whenever they were going to come), we were finishing up yet another pot of coffee.
Earlier, after letting Juno out, brushing my teeth and washing my face, Mace found me and handed me my phone.
“Eric,” was al he said.
“Later,” was al I said.
“Now,” he finished.
I figured he might leave me alone if I did as I was told, so I cal ed Eric and told him I’d be unavailable for awhile. Eric asked why. I told him I wasn’t at liberty to say. Eric asked if I was okay. I told him that I was fine. Eric told me I didn’t sound fine. I told him not to worry, I was. Eric told me he couldn’t help it, he was worried. I told him please not to worry, I’d be okay and I’d cal him in a few days. Eric said he didn’t like it, could he see me now? I opened my mouth to speak and Mace yanked the phone out of my hand.
Then he said into it, “She’s done talkin’. She said she’d cal you. End of conversation.”
Then he flipped my phone shut.
I stared at my phone in his hand because I was relatively certain if I looked in his eyes, I’d scream in his face.
He tucked it in his back pocket and without a word he turned and walked away.
I stared daggers into his back and when daggers didn’t actual y form from the lethal energy emanating from my eyes, I gave up and Juno and I went into breakfast.
The boys were gone. We had an in-house bodyguard standing in the kitchen, wearing a suit, a gun in a holster at one side of his belt and a walkie-talkie at the other side.
Roxie, an animal lover, claimed Juno’s attention by lavishing my big dog with pets, kisses and surreptitious scraps of leftover sausage patties.