Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Of course a one-percenter biker would have noticed that.”
“Looked that one up, did you?”
He’d changed from the day before. I guess I found that comforting. He hadn’t just been… lurking around my house and life all night. He’d gone home, likely showered, and changed into black jeans and a crisp white tee. The kind of white tee that was out of my budget because it was thick and had some sort of magic infused so that it didn’t wrinkle when you sat. He’d even tossed on a gold chain. And for some reason, my mind led me to believe that meant that he wasn’t going to kill me. I mean, who wore white and put on jewelry to create a crime scene?
“I figured you must have been in the dark to waltz in there like you did.”
“What are you doing here?”
“We didn’t finish our talk yesterday.”
“I told you all I plan on telling you. Now leave so I can clean this place.”
“This already clean place?”
“What can I say? The guy has issues.”
“Why are you using a manual brush?”
“What?”
“For the baseboards. They make little handheld rechargeable brushes that do the work in half the time and twice as well.”
“Are you giving me cleaning tips?”
“Seems like you need ‘em.”
“I own a cleaning business.”
“Which means you should be up on the latest innovations.”
I thought I was. I did use a much larger rotating scrubber brush for the showers, especially in new clients’ homes because the soap scum was usually out of control. But I’d missed the mini handheld brush revolution, it seemed.
“It’ll save you the arthritis cleaning like that all day is gonna cause.”
“Am I going to live long enough to get arthritis?” I shot back.
“What made you get into house cleaning?”
“It was good money as a side gig. Then it became the whole gig. Why do you care?”
“Is it a one-person operation?”
“No.”
“You a boss?”
“Yes.”
He nodded at that as he picked up the bottle sitting on the counter, then winced at the strong bleach smell. “This is gonna eat through the marble.”
“The client doesn’t care. It has to be bleach.”
“Expensive little obsession he’s got.”
“How do you know so much about cleaning?”
“I like to do it.”
“You like to clean?”
“Yeah, don’t you?”
“No, not really. I mean, it’s good when you’re anxious or overthinking things. But I don’t actually like doing it.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“Because I don’t live in a fantasy land where I can just go outside and pluck money off a tree.”
He ignored that. “Is that why you’re expanding? That way someone else can do the cleaning, and you can… handle paperwork?”
“Yeah, I guess. If I live long enough, I guess. Did you follow me from my house?”
“Yep. You’re completely fucking oblivious when you’ve got a tail, you know. I was on my bike and everything.”
I’d been lost in my own thoughts. And several guys in the neighborhood rode bikes too.
“Well, that worked out for you in the end, didn’t it? What do you want from me? I’m trying to work.”
“We gotta finish talking.”
“No, we really don’t.”
“Says the person who held a gun up at me.”
“To the man who held me captive on my own couch.”
“Baby, we both know you could have made a fuss about that if you wanted to. Had your sister call the cops. But then you’d have to fess up to baby sis about what you’ve been up to.”
“Please leave Sofia out of this.”
“How did you expect her to stay out of this when you live with her? Did you think no one would come looking for you with questions?”
“I thought someone would come with a gun.”
“I did,” he said, reaching behind him and placing one on the counter. Not just any gun, though. My gun. “Where’d you get this?”
“The store,” I answered without thinking.
“The store.” The words were flat, like they weren’t computing. Then, with pinched brows and an incredulous edge to his voice, “You used a legal gun registered in your name to come and shoot me with?”
“Gee, sorry. I’m not an outlaw biker who knows how to get black market weapons to do my crimes with.”
I wasn’t prepared for the impact of this man’s smile, the way it stretched wide to reveal not only annoyingly perfect white teeth, but two deep dimples.
“Yeah, baby, then maybe you shouldn’t be trying to do crimes if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
Objectively, he was being kind of playful. Which was gracious when he’d had a gun pointed at him by me not long ago. The smart move would have been to lean into that, to try to keep things light.
That wasn’t what I did.
“Yeah, well, you would know a thing or two about getting away with your crimes, wouldn’t you?”
“What do you know about what I’ve done?”
“Oh, I know a lot.”
“Like what? Maybe I can clear up some shit so we can move past this.”