Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
The grenade thing wasn’t a joke. Tex had a bag of them. I’d seen them at his and Nancy’s house.
Fortunately (so far), Angel business hadn’t required him to put any to use.
“No, he isn’t,” Raye confirmed.
“So we can take that as, whatever this is, they don’t think it’s a threat,” I surmised. “But they’re giving us a heads-up.”
“I think we can take it as that, yes,” she agreed.
“What level of freaked should we be that he knows where we work?” I asked.
I stated the question, but we both answered at the same time, “Eleven.”
Also at the same time (what could I say? bona fide research showed besties minds synced, and that’s the gods’ honest truth), we both put our hands to our crossbodies, in which were our Tasers.
“How high on the pissed-o-meter do you think he’ll get if we go out to there, Tasers in hand?” I asked.
We both looked down to our hands on our bags then to each other, and simultaneously we said, “Eleven.”
This meant we took our hands off our bags.
“Ready?” Raye asked.
To have a chat with a mob underboss, even a hot one?
No.
This was my thought.
But I was an Angel.
Thus, I nodded.
We headed out to the door.
Instantly, we saw a cush, shiny, sleek, expensive black Mercedes sedan idling by Lucia’s herb garden.
But Dimitri Alexeyev was in the parking lot leaning against Tweety, Raye’s bright yellow Juke.
We headed to Dimitri and Tweety.
“Long time no see,” Raye greeted.
Dimitri let out a bunch of Russian, the only word of which I caught was angely, doing this through a glamorous smile.
We waited until he was out of words before I asked, “All good?”
“All is very well, Munroe.”
Yeah, we had street names.
And yeah, we named ourselves after the other Angels. Charlie’s. Even though we were Arthur’s.
I sensed, since he knew where we worked, he was only calling me that to humor me and he knew my real name.
And I was at odds that all was very well with him.
He’d been cool and not only hadn’t murdered us on sight during our last mission, he let us take a bunch of money to give to our semi-kinda-sorta friend and recalcitrant informant, Duane, who had been in the crosshairs of some assholes (and who also seriously needed to paint his house, but that wasn’t the only reason we asked for money for him).
On the other hand, the things that could go “very well” for Dimitri were probably not awesome for the greater citizenry.
“This,”—he turned, picked up a manila envelope from the hood of Raye’s car, came back to us and handed it to Raye—“I must advise in all good faith, and because I like moi angely, must stop.”
I got close to my bestie as Raye opened the envelope and pulled out a black-and-white ‘70s-style Gene Hackman movie surveillance photo.
Hmm.
It appeared the Phoenician Russian Mob was old school.
It was a picture of Joey and Gemma sitting in Joey’s car, doing surveillance, and I knew this because Joey had the Angels’ long-ass-lens telephoto camera, and Gemma was looking through binoculars.
My gaze shifted to Raye to see she was grimacing.
She knew about this, whatever it was.
And I knew what it was.
They were surveilling Knox’s family.
And they didn’t tell me.
“What’s going on?” I snapped.
She turned to me. “We’re giving you space to deal with the Knox thing.”
My voice was getting louder. “They’re getting close to those crazies?”
“Luna, we’re just getting the lay of the land,” Raye said in a calm down! voice.
But I was so far from calm, it wasn’t funny.
“Without me weighing in on this mission? Me, who knows more about it than all of you, maybe even all of the Nightingale guys, and by that I mean what it means to Knox?” I demanded.
“I see you two need to have a discussion,” Dimitri cut in. “And I’ll give you something to think on as you do. I’m glad we’re allies. It would weigh on my conscious to have to make a statement with any of you. I sense you don’t want that either, therefore, God willing, we’ll stay allies. That crew,”—he gestured to the photo in Raye’s hand, but he meant Rocco, Gypsy, et al.—“you must treat the same.”
His eyes fell on me and he kept going.
“Your man, this is his. You must let him handle it how he sees fit. You cannot get involved.”
I had a lot to say to this, starting with the fact Knox wasn’t my man, but Dimitri kept talking.
“If he wishes to pull in his comrades, that’s his choice. You continue to do what you’ve been doing. Helping him heal and providing love and support on the homefront.”
I took a lot from this too.
One, they were watching us.
Two, it appeared Dimitri wasn’t only old school, he was a throwback.
I mean, love and support on the homefront?
Blech.
“It works for you,” he went on in a serious voice that made me, already serious about what was happening, all the more serious. “How this seems like a lark for you. Eight women bumbling around Phoenix, righting wrongs. It’s a good cover, when those who are paying close attention not only understand your commitment and how you make no moves unless they’re considered, but also you get results.”