Authors: Bonnie Edwards
Body Work (11 page)
September first. Only four months. Riley would be in university as long as he got that scholarship.
And she had to find a home for Razor. The thought of losing him in the midst of all her dreams coming true brought tears to her eyes. It didn’t matter that she let them fall. Razor kissed them away.
* * *
Dane stepped onto the curb across the street from the pawn shop and leaned on a lamp post. That was not supposed to happen.
If he’d ever needed proof he’d lost his edge, he had it.
Like a rookie, he’d exposed himself and let her get a good look at him. She’d had plenty of time to size him up. Not that he’d been slack in that department. He’d taken a damn good look at her, too. That woman packed a wallop. He’d about fallen into her cleavage when she’d leaned on the counter with her come-hither smile.
He’d leered like a pig.
She probably wanted him to feel that way.
In spite of the kindly tap dance she’d done with those boys, she could be a con artist– the lowest of the low, a woman who preyed on the susceptible elderly.
Even so, she drew him like a magnet drew iron filings. She would remember him now.
He should have hung back, out of her view, grunted a couple of times if she noticed him and taken a thorough look around the place, just as he’d planned.
He dug into his pocket and felt for his cell phone. Dialing the number his partner had given him; he waited for the Seattle Police Department to answer his call. When he was patched through to the man he wanted, he made his pitch.
“Detective Addison, I’m Dane Caldwell. I’m on the job in Philly. Joe Davis told me if I needed any favors while I was in Seattle, I could call you.”
“Caldwell. I heard you might call.”
Dane heard phones ringing, some distant yelling in the background. It was a downtown precinct, all right. “I need a favor,” he said.
“Shoot.”
“I need information on a Caucasian female. She’s mid-to-late twenties, five foot ten, and built. Red hair to the shoulder, no visible scars or tattoos. Her name is Dix Dixon, but I doubt that’s her given name. I can’t get a line on that.” Gran had been coy about her first name, even though he’d pressed her on it.
“You want priors? Or just to find out if she’s married? She sounds like a looker.”
Dane felt the comment and shifted. “My old man would call her fulsome.” He’d always been a leg man, himself. “I suspect she’s running a scam on my grandmother. I need everything that shows up, even parking violations.”
“Where does she spend most of her time?”
“She runs a pawn shop.” When Dane gave him the address, Addison grunted.
“That’s a tough neighborhood for a woman to run a pawn. She must be hard as nails.”
She’s already gotten her hands on half my grandmother’s jewelry, and I want it back. If you’ve got anything on her, I can use it for leverage.”
“I’ll get back to you ASAP, and I’ll ask the beat cop out there if he knows her. She could be straight. Any chance the old lady pawned some brooches for a few extra bucks?”
Dane snorted into the phone. “I doubt it. I looked at Dixon’s jewelry case and didn’t see any of the stuff I remember. If she’s not selling it in the store, she can get far more for it elsewhere. I want to know where it is and how she talked my grandmother into handing it over.” He’d already checked all the online auction sites he could think of and had come up empty.
“I’ll get back to you. And if this turns into anything, I want the collar.”
“Sure thing. Thanks, Addison, I owe you.”
“Tell your partner we’re square.”
“Will do.” Dane disconnected and shoved his phone back into his pocket, convinced that the calls for information were already being made. Everyone had a grandmother somewhere. He’d have answers before the end of the day.
He’d always heard that Gran had a mind like a steel trap when it came to investments. So the broke theory didn’t fly.
Even if she did need more cash flow, there were other ways to get it. She’d set such store by the family jewelry. The pearls were her grandmother’s, and she also had a filigree necklace that had been handed down from an old suffragette auntie. The stuff went back generations. He recalled his mother talking about the collection with reverence.
No, Gran would never sell off the jewelry, not without strong reason.
When Addison called him back with proof that Dix was a con artist and had taken advantage of Gran, he would get the jewelry back. Simple. If she’d sold it all, he’d get the money.
Then it should be easy to convince his grandmother it was time to move into a seniors’ residence. Living there, she wouldn’t be prey to people like Dix Dixon, and if her mind continued to go the way he suspected it was going, she’d be safer.
He hunkered into his jacket. Seattle wind could have a nasty bite.
More flocks of children came and went from the shop across the street. They all looked happy when they came back out. She’d charmed them all. He focused on the children’s hands for a few moments, but couldn’t see them holding anything more interesting than books or sheets of paper. The youngest had drawings with them, the older ones, books and binders.
When a light drizzle started, he zipped up his jacket to his neck and remembered why he hadn’t been back to Seattle since his mother died. He hated rain.
* * *
Riley Dixon saw his best friend on the corner half a block from the shop. “Carlos, what’s up?” He offered his hand for a high-five. Carlos slapped his palm while Riley set his backpack down. All he wanted was to shoot the breeze for a few minutes to delay facing his sister. She’d have the worried look she wore these days and he wanted to avoid it a while longer.
“Hey, if it ain’t the schoolboy,” Carlos said and stepped away from the group of losers he’d been hanging with lately. He punched Riley on the shoulder in welcome. “How’s it going?” he asked.
Riley shook his head. “It’s tough. I got a biology test back, and I didn’t do so good. Dix is gonna skin me alive.”
“You don’t gotta worry, you can take her out,” Carlos said through a grin. “Seriously, man. You gonna make it?”
Riley sighed. “The scholarship? I don’t know; my marks aren’t great. I study all the time, but I wish it came easier, the way it used to.” Lately, he’d messed up a lot and Dix was always riding him for it.
“You don’t gotta knock yourself out. I can take care of you. Set you up.” Carlos grinned again and scanned a car as it drove slowly past. The driver was an old man who lived one block over. Carlos’s hard gaze moved on to the next vehicle then turned back to Riley.
Riley shook his head, ignoring the sharp-eyed look in his friend’s eyes. He didn’t like Carlos’s love for fast cars.
“Mr. Johnson was asking about you,” he said.
“And what did he say, old Mr. Johnson?”
“He told me you have a great mind for math and you should come back to school.”
“Nah, he didn’t. Besides, I got enough mathematics,” he said, stretching the word in mockery, “to take care of my business and that’s all I need.”
“I thought that’s what you’d say, but keep it in mind, okay?” Carlos had never explained his “business.” Riley had his suspicions, but figured he was better off not knowing. “Mr. Johnson said he’d square it with the principal if you want to go back.”
Carlos snorted. “Sure.”
Riley picked up his pack and waved before heading off toward the pawn shop. He thought of the biology test and groaned.
Dix would not be happy. For sure she’d ask if he’d studied, then she’d say he hadn’t studied enough.
A B+ used to make her happy.
But since Russell Graves had climbed out of his sleek black limo and gone into the school office and announced his scholarship, nothing Riley did was good enough. Dix had had a bug up her butt about his grades ever since.
She and Russell Graves remembered each other from school. She figured that gave her an edge in this scholarship race. She’d been one of the few who hadn’t taunted him about being a nerd.
Big deal. Nerd boy made good in Silicon Valley and came back to his old neighborhood to offer a full scholarship.
Dix had been edgy for months, pressuring him, pushing the teachers on his grades. She watched his every move as if she didn’t trust him anymore. The closer they got to the day of the announcement, the worse she got. These next two weeks would kill him, if Dix didn’t first.
He understood better than anyone what was driving her. But did she have to be so keyed up all the time?
She’d already applied for a job in Paris. Being a housemother in a private school meant she would have a place to live, too. It was up to him to get into a good college. This scholarship would take care of that.
He was doing his best, but it was tough. She even harassed him about talking to Carlos. As if he could ever ditch his best friend. She had no right to tell him who he could talk to. No right. Dix wasn’t his mother, just his sister, no matter what the court said about guardianship. He considered bypassing the store, but he was hungry and broke. He’d get something to eat, and then head to the bus stop. He’d heard that a department store downtown was looking for clerks. He’d try there. Hell, he had to try something to raise some cash. The way things were going with his grades, the scholarship seemed more out of reach every day.
He’d have to find a way to pay for college. Or die trying.
I wrote
Love in a Pawn Shop
for many reasons, one of which was my deep affection for Beau, our American Staffordshire Terrier whose antics made me sniffle as I wrote them. To purchase
Love in a Pawn Shop
, please click over to
www.bonnieedwards.com
where you’ll find buy links for the electronic reading device of your choice: Kindle, KOBO, iBooks and NOOK.
If you enjoyed Body Work please share the love by telling your friends and other readers by posting a review on the site where you purchased it. When I decided to “go it alone” with my stories I had to dig deep for courage again, just the way I did before I sold my first book. So please share your thoughts on your reading experience. I would be so grateful. Please help me keep on keeping on.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Happy, Happy Reading!
Bonnie
Bonnie Edwards came to writing romance the long, hard way: by trial and error, through years of rejection, always determined to succeed. Body Work marked a new beginning in erotic romance for her when it was published in the anthology, The Hard Stuff.
She lives with her husband and various pets in the majestic Pacific Northwest. When she’s not writing, she’s hiking with her husband and their standard poodle through the woods and down to the ocean, where she finds inspiration. Bonnie loves to hear from readers at
[email protected]
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