canary. Tweet, tweet! He told me where to find you, what the dress code was, and he gave me these cool glasses as a disguise.”
JP looks at Connor warily. “Who’s Gary?” When Connor doesn’t answer, he turns around to look at me as if he can’t decide which of us is the larger threat to his well-being. “Who’s Gary?”
“My golf club,” I tell him proudly. “He’s a three iron.”
Connor isn’t as amused, though. “Shit! I saw him this morning.” He slams a hand to the steering wheel. “That motherfucker played me. He was testing me by telling me to ditch you.”
“He what?” I screech, leaning forward over the seat to snatch Connor’s phone so I can redial Hunter. I’m going to give that guy a piece of my mind. “That asshole! I’ll kill him. Oops, maybe we shouldn’t discuss urder-may in front of the olice-pay informant-ay,” I tell Connor, tilting my head toward JP, who scoots a little closer to the door as if the extra inch or so might protect him.
Connor doesn’t stop me from grabbing his phone, and a few seconds later, I understand why as his phone stays locked. “It’s fingerprint, as well as swipe pattern, locked,” he growls. “And nobody is murdering anyone.”
“Well, not now, when you told him the plan.” I roll my eyes and flop back in the seat. “And fingerprint? Really? As your fiancée, I should have your code. It’s happy marriage rule 42. Or maybe 24? I forget, but it’s one of the big ones.” I’m totally making that up, but I’ve seen enough late-night TV to know that if your man is locking his phone, he’s got a side chick in his DMs, and I don’t share.
“I’m a criminal with a phone. It’s that or constant burners,” Connor points out. Looking over, he says, “JP . . . what the fuck?”
He sounds tired. Maybe today has been a long one for him, but I can help with that. Maybe after we figure out the JP issue, we can eat pizza in bed and relax. I can give him a massage and rub all that stress right out.
After that, he can rub my stress out too.
“I had to,” JP pleads with Connor.
He sounds like he’s still not sure what the hell’s going on. Join the club, man! But the important thing to remember is that we’re safe now because I saved us. But does either of them thank me? Of course not. They’re going on with their conversation like I’m not sitting in the back seat.
“I got picked up by a man, a police officer. He said my fingerprints were on a painting, a fake one. He was going to charge me with grand theft unless I agreed to help them.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t want to, but I had to . . . for my wife and kids. My daughter is pregnant, and Manuel is still young. He needs me.”
“Aw, congratulations, Abuelo!” I interject, patting JP’s shoulder gently. He jumps like I scared him for some reason. Meanwhile, Connor glares at me like what JP said isn’t important, but I disagree. Family is very important.
“Did you tell this police officer about me?” he asks JP in a hard tone.
I can tell this answer is important. JP can too. There is definitely a right answer and a wrong one. “No, I swear it!” he promises. I’m no expert, but I believe him. Connor grunts, so I think he does too. Either that or he’s the one making murder-y plans now. “Just the boss. Though I guess that won’t matter now, since he’s dead.”
The words hit me by surprise, and my heart stutters in my chest. “Did I kill him? Oh, my God, did I kill him?”
I’m suddenly not proud at all, I’m freaking out, my eyes wide as I beg Connor to tell me I didn’t murder someone. A bad guy with a gun, so I’ll probably get off on a self-defense rap, but still . . . I don’t even have plants because it makes me feel guilty when I forget to water them and they die in my windowsill. I love Nut and Juice because they will never let me forget or ignore them.
I will definitely have immense guilt if I killed a man by hitting him with an old statue of some curvy woman. Reminded of it, I look at the statue in the seat beside me and scoot another inch away from it like it might