Swindled in Paradise (24 page)

Fab went up behind Creole, took the gun out of his hand, and put it in the bottom of her beach bag, which was hanging over the back of a chair.

“We’ve eaten. Did you bring dessert?” I hugged Liam.

“Heck yes,” he said. “Brad said we didn’t need it, but I reminded him that everyone in the family was dessert-addicted.”

“You should make everyone thank you or no dessert. Here’s my thank you.” I kissed his cheek.

The women in this family were spoiled when it came to food preparation—the men took over. Creole and Didier headed for the kitchen, Brad and I hugged, and he followed. The men enjoyed flexing their culinary muscle or just serving up takeout food. Fab and I sat and watched. Most of the time, we even got out of dish duty.

Brad walked past Julie, kissing her cheek. She turned to me and shook her head before slipping inside behind him. I interpreted that to mean she hadn’t told Brad about her loathsome ex.

Just great,
I thought.

Before she left tonight, I’d give her the time’s-up talk: “Don’t dick my brother around. Tell him or I will.” Brad was already going to flip out on both of us because it had taken so long.

Fab hooked her arm in mine and pulled me over to the pool steps, where we sat with our feet in the water. Fab flashed a smile. “What do you suppose Brick wanted? Maybe we should call him.”

“Let’s wait until tomorrow and be surprised.” I flashed her hair-tingling smile back at her. “Earlier, I drew straws for us, and you won. You get to update Brad on Didier’s case when no one’s around to listen. You two need brother-sister bonding time.”

“What straw?” She kicked water on me and got it all over herself. “You know I’m not good at these kinds of things. Besides, I don’t think he’s all that comfortable with a second sister.”

“I threw the straws out because I knew you’d take my word for it,” I said with a straight face. “Just hit the highlights. If it comes from me, he’ll grill me, but he’d never do that to you.”

“Remember when you were going to fix us up?”

“Good thing I didn’t follow through on
that
bad idea. It turned out good; he’s happy, and you’re ecstatic.”

“And how’s your relationship with the big guy?” Fab asked.

“Romantic that I am, I hit pay dirt. He passed the obstacle course: fits into the family, tolerates you, and has never suggested you move out. Have you noticed that you and Creole are working together on Didier’s case? He’s a keeper.”

“You two look happy together.” She eyed me closely.

“As long as I don’t follow your bad example, we rarely fight, and when we do, there’s make-up sex to look forward to.”

Chapter 32

“Where’s your big-boobed receptionist?” I asked Brick, opening the refrigerator and helping myself. I passed a water to Fab and picked through the snack bowl before making myself comfortable in one of his oversized leather chairs.

Brick had glared when I started picking through the candy and cookies, snagging my favorites. He got surly when I pointed out that they were made to eat, not save, and he should be more gracious to valuable contractors.

Bitsy’s chair in the showroom had been empty again. The frowning receptionist wasn’t on guard duty when we filed in and up the stairs to Brick’s office. I’d looked over the counter as we passed to see if she was hiding there. If she was, I’d have snapped pictures to torment her with later.

“This is the second time we’ve missed seeing her.” I stuck out my lower lip. “Sadly, she hasn’t been hanging out at her desk. She didn’t screw someone—again—and have to disappear?”

Fab laughed. “I can get you a good rate on a funeral if Bitsy turns up dead.”

“Bitsy’s on vacation,” he grunted, “if you two have to know every damn thing. She’s good for business; the men love her. When there’s a delay in paperwork and a client has to cool his heels, she keeps him entertained. No one’s perfect; get over her petty transgression.”

I rose out of my chair, but Fab jerked me back down and saved Brick from an in-his-face tongue lashing.
Transgression! I could’ve been shot.
“I didn’t know your cars required paperwork. I thought all it took was a large bag of crisp hundreds.”

“Don’t be a smartass,” he growled.

“That wouldn’t be any fun.”

Brick pushed two envelopes across the desk. “Good job on the Ursula case, although it didn’t turn out like Ian hoped.”

Before I could reach out, Fab snagged them both, handing me one.

Brick cleared his throat. “You two are going to work at the Gentleman’s Club for a couple of nights or whatever it takes, get friendly with the girls. I need information.”

“Club” was misleading; it was a strip joint located in an unpopulated area of Alligator Alley. Men didn’t seem to mind going to the middle of nowhere for their entertainment. Brick advertised various entertainments with beautiful girls, and he delivered.

“What the hell kind of job?” I snapped. “I’m telling you right now that I’m not swinging on one of your poles.”

“Don’t look at me.” Fab stood up. “I quit,” she said and started for the door.

He yelled, “Get the hell back here and sit down! You two make my ass hurt.”

“That’s so ungentlemanly,” I tsked. “What’s the job?” I ripped the wrapper off a mini snickers and shoved it in my mouth. I needed a sugar rush just to listen to the job description. I balled up the wrapper and handed it across the desk, a simpering look on my face.

He scowled and, with a dirty look, threw the wrapper in the trashcan. “Two of my girls are being harassed by a pimp. Find out who he is, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Great,
I thought,
I’ve never known a pimp that wasn’t trouble.
“Why don’t you call the girls into your office and just ask?” I demanded.

“Would you be here if that tactic had worked? They’re denying there’s a problem, but the bruises they show up with tell another story. I got wind of it from the manager, but she didn’t know the sleazeball’s name.”

“Could be a boyfriend. Women have a tendency to stay in abusive relationships way too long.” Fab hit me on the shoulder and pointed to the snack bowl.

I fished out a bag of peanut butter cookies and handed them over. “I thought you had this daddy relationship with your girls; they sit on your lap and spill their troubles.” I didn’t bother to disguise my sarcasm.

Brick hunched his large frame across the desk until we were eye to eye. “Mock me all you want, but you know I take care of my girls,” he spit out.

“What do you have in mind?” Fab broke the tension. She ripped open the small bag and dumped the contents on the corner of Brick’s desk. She bent and sniffed, popping one in her mouth.

I struggled not to laugh. I expected Brick to clutch his chest and keel over, but he managed to contain his rising temper. “You’ll come in as new hires, start training, and get to know everyone. Ask questions. Snoop around. You’re certainly good at that.”

“Training for what?” Fab’s eyes narrowed.

“Decide between the two of you. One of you works the dressing room, helping the girls into their costumes, the other trains as a hostess. You’d have free run of the place. As a trainee, both positions require you to follow a regular employee and be pleasant.”

I arched my eyebrows at Fab. “Well?”

Fab nodded slightly.

“Let’s talk terms. The usual?” I asked. “Quadruple if guns get drawn?”

“You two are thieves,” he barked.

“Don’t quibble, it’s so unbecoming,” I forced my lips into a half-smile. “We have another job of yours to finish up, so we need a few days.”

“You’ll start next week. Both girls work on Monday, which is typically our slowest day. Hopefully, anything you screw up can be fixed.” He leveled a glare at me. “You’ll need to go in ahead of time and get fitted for your costumes.”

“Just so we’re clear, since I’ve never stepped foot in your establishment and have no idea what these
uniforms
look like, mine better cover my ass. I don’t object to a little cleavage.” I looked at Fab, wanting backup on this issue, but she didn’t say anything.

“Think of it as dress-up.” Brick rummaged in his desk drawer. “You women like that kind of stuff. No granny drawers.” He pulled out a business card, scribbled on the back, and held it out. “Call Tilly and let her know you’re coming in for your fitting. She’ll be expecting you.”

I whisked the card from his fingers and shoved it in my pocket, knowing that the mundane tasks always fell to me.

“Let’s go.” Fab stood up. “Call Tilly and tell her we’re on our way. We’re going to get this over with.” She grabbed my arm. “Don’t think we’re going to parade around half-naked. If you double-cross us, we’ll walk.”

He threw up his hands. “Everyone says I’m the best boss except you two.”

For once, we actually walked down the stairs as Brick commanded us to on every visit.

“Who’s going to tell the guys about our new job?” I asked. “We could flip a coin.”

“Since we’re not going to be swinging naked, I don’t think they’ll have too big a fit.” Fab used the key fob to unlock the car doors.

I hopped in and said, “I was thinking that we should tell them both at the same time.”

“If I’m doing it, expect the announcement to be as we’re walking out the door,” She humphed. “You realize this job will probably last a few days if we’re lucky. The hours will suck; we’ll have to arrive before the girls and be the last to leave.”

“Maybe we should suggest to Brick that one of us work inside while the other covers the parking lot.”

“Forget that idea, especially the part about sitting in a parking lot at night alone. We’re sticking together.” Fab waved to one of the salesman as she blew past him out of the driveway.

Chapter 33

The morning didn’t go as planned. I had already penciled in hanging by the pool, reading, and generally doing diddly. Fab’s ringing phone interrupted the peace. The conversation was short. I paddled my raft around so that I couldn’t make eye contact. My toes itched to be on their way down to the blue-green gulf water.

Fab used the leaf scoop to haul me back to the steps while informing me that Hottie was back in town. He’d carved out time in his all-important schedule and wanted Ursula gone. I had no energy for doing free work, but swallowed my gripey retorts. I’d mark this down in my black book of favors and remind her of it when I needed help.

I emailed Preston a list of the tasks that he needed to complete, and to my annoyance, he pushed the details back on us. I was pissed when Fab didn’t put her foot down. He pitched a ‘tude over paying for a new place for Ursula to live, and it took some discussion to convince him a homeless Ursula would spin out of control—fast. When we both refused to go house hunting, he foisted the chore off on a realtor friend. The woman came through in record time, finding a condo in an upscale neighborhood. She sealed the deal, forwarding pictures, and Preston signed the six-month contract, paying upfront.

* * *

After a rocky start, moving day came and went like clockwork.

Fab and I arrived early and sat vigil in the Hummer until Preston’s white Porsche Carrera rolled out of the garage and through the security gates, Ursula in the passenger seat.

We got a head start on the movers and had all of Ursula’s belongings boxed and ready to be dollied out by the time they arrived. Fab started off by throwing things haphazardly in a box until I barked, “Don’t break anything. It will be more fuel to her wounded ego.”

She sniffed, “I hate manual labor.”

“I should have left you at home and brought Mother.”

She flounced down on the king-size bed and crossed her arms. “I’m tired.”

“You get your ass up now,” I growled, hands on my hips. “This is
your
freebie
client.”

“Why do you have to be so mean?” She sulked.

“Go ahead, sit there and relax and watch how manual labor is done.” My words dripped with sarcasm, “I insist.”

Fab eyed me suspiciously. “What are you up to?”

“I can’t wait for…hmm…Didier, or perhaps Mother, to ask how the day went.”

She jumped off the bed, twisting her hair in a knot. “You would, wouldn’t you? Fine. How can I help?” she said sweetly.

I turned away and bit my lip to keep from laughing. “You clean out the drawers and closets. Toss everything on the bed, and I’ll fill the boxes, tape and mark them up.”

Preston had left Ursula’s car keys on the table, and when we were done with the rest, her BMW was quickly loaded onto the car hauler.

* * *

Fab revved the engine of the Hummer while I gave the address of Ursula’s new residence to the driver of the moving truck. Both men looked amused at Fab’s antics as she stuck her head out the window and waved. She drove the speed limit to the Overseas and then took off like a rocket, only slowing for the well-known speed traps.

I kept my eyes on the side mirror and, to my surprise, the truck managed to keep up. “Please—” I knocked Fab on the shoulder. “—slow down. If that trailer jackknifes and sends Ursula’s car hurtling into the air, you’re to blame. Don’t forget to signal when you’re getting ready to exit. Give the guys behind us time to get over and not have to double back.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“One of these times, you’ll be so annoying, I’ll make you walk home,” I said through gritted teeth.

She didn’t brake, but eased off the gas, and we slowed down some. I felt my heart rate returning to normal.

“Remember Creole’s advice. If the police show up, plead ignorance and toss Preston under the bus.”

Creole didn’t like this job because what we were doing was technically illegal. He felt some empathy for Preston but thought he should handle his own problems. But he didn’t complain about this job because he was tired of hearing about Ursula. “Women like her are the reason I don’t let my dick do the thinking,” he said.

* * *

Fab pulled into a visitor’s space at Ursula’s temporary home, a nondescript, multi-story, all-white building that boasted a good address. As soon as we stepped over the threshold of the one–bedroom unit, I knew Ursula wouldn’t be happy. The dark space had the feel of an over-sized closet, and the patio was the size of a postage stamp, with a sliver of a water view if you leaned precariously over the balcony and craned your neck. There was no disguising that this unit was a rental. The furniture was worn and sad-looking, and had several gross stains. I’d seen the realtor pictures and decided they’d been photoshopped.