Janet Evanovich - Motor Mouth

Ten minutes later we were on the road in an SUV.

“Are we going to see Ray now?” I asked Hooker.

“No. We’re going to Little Havana so we can hide the chip from the gearshift knob in Felicia’s house. It seems to be the only chip Ray cares about. Then we’re going to see Ray.”

No one was home when we got to Felicia’s house, but the key was in the flowerpot next to the back door, just like always. We let ourselves in and Beans rushed ahead, jumping around, all excited, skidding on the kitchen linoleum. Probably remembering Felicia’s pancakes and pork barbecue. We trooped upstairs to the little bedroom, and Hooker taped the chip to the back of the picture of Jesus.

“Doesn’t get any safer than that,” Hooker said.

After sleeping in the car and on top of a pool table, I was thinking the little bedroom looked like paradise. The comfy bed with the clean sheets, the immaculate bathroom just down the hall…

“Maybe we should test the bed out,” Hooker said. “See if it’s still too small.”

“Good grief.”

“Well, you had that look .”

“I was thinking about the bathroom.”

“Works for me,” Hooker said. “Warm water, slippery soap…”

“Good grief.”

“You keep saying that. That sounds so hopeless. I’m dying here. I need something to hang on to. Throw me a crumb, for pity’s sake.”

I did a big fake sigh. “Maybe we can get together sometime later.”

Hooker looked like the joy fairy had just unlocked the door to the bakery. “Really? How much later?”

“After we get cleared of murder and grand-theft auto.”

“Do you think we could shorten that to… in fifteen minutes ?”

“I thought it would give you an incentive.”

“You think I need more incentive than not going to jail for the rest of my life?”

“Okay. Fine. Great. Just forget it then. I didn’t mean it anyway.” And I turned and flounced out of the room and down the stairs. I wasn’t all that annoyed, but it seemed like a good exit line.

Hooker was close behind me. “Too late to take it back. You promised.”

“I didn’t promise. I said maybe.”

We were in the dining room and Hooker pushed me against the wall and leaned into me and kissed me. There was a lot of tongue involved in the kiss, and Hooker pressed against me until there wasn’t any space left between us, and it was obvious there was more of Hooker than there had been five minutes ago.

“Tell me about the maybe,” Hooker said. “Was it a probably or was it a probably not .”

“I don’t know. I’m working on it.”

“You’re killing me,” Hooker said. “You’re more of a threat than Ray Huevo. And by the way, I like that you’ve got your hand on my ass.”

Crap! He was right. I had my hand on his ass.

“Sorry,” I said. “It was an accident.”

Hooker was grinning. “It was no accident, darlin’. You’re hot for me.”

I smiled back at him and shoved him away. “You’re right, but it’s still a maybe.”

When we got to the kitchen, Hooker filled a bowl with water for Beans. Beans put his face into it and did a lot of loud slurping. The water slopped over the sides when he drank, and when he picked his head up, the water leaked out of his mouth and dripped off his lips.

I mopped up the water with paper towels while Hooker called Ray Huevo.

“I’m in town,” Hooker said. “Do you want to talk?”

There was some negotiation and Hooker hung up.

“I’m meeting him on the beach in a half hour,” Hooker said. “At Lincoln Road. I declined on a boat meeting. I didn’t want to get thrown off his boat again. And this meeting is between Ray and me. I want you and Beans to stay here.”

“And why is that?”

“I don’t trust Ray. I don’t want to put you in jeopardy.”

“I appreciate the thought, but there’s no way you’re going without me. We’re in this together. And suppose someone gets the crap beat out of them? You think I want to miss that?”

“My fear is that it might be me,” Hooker said.

The compromise was that we left Beans in Felicia’s house and I went with Hooker. Hooker had stripped down to a T-shirt and jeans when we arrived in Miami. I’d been left with jeans and a long-sleeved turtleneck, making me a tad conspicuous on South Beach. You could be naked on South Beach and not cause a ripple of excitement. A turtleneck shouted tourist, fresh off the plane. Hooker parked the rental on the street, and I popped into a shop and swapped my turtleneck for a tank top.

The Ritz-Carlton sits at the end of Lincoln Road, and a pretty bricked footpath gently undulates alongside the hotel, giving beach access to all. We took the footpath and walked out onto the hard-packed sand. It was a breathtaking blue-sky day in Miami. Eighty degrees with a gentle breeze. The beach is white sand and wide here. The Ritz had its royal blue beach chairs out in orderly rows. Plus a row of cabanas. There were some bronzed and oiled-up bodies on the lounges. Attendants moved from body to body, serving drinks, handing out towels. The ocean rolled in on foamy waves. No one was swimming.

I looked over Hooker’s shoulder and saw three men step off the footpath onto the sand. Ray Huevo, Rodriguez, and Lucca. Rodriguez was on crutches. He had a Band-Aid across his nose and two black eyes. Lucca’s six-pack bruise was turning green. Ray Huevo looked like a billion dollars.

Huevo moved toward us. Rodriguez and Lucca stayed behind.

“How’s his knee?” I asked Huevo.

“He’ll live.” He glanced back at Rodriguez. “For a while.”

Hooker and I exchanged a look that said yikes .

“For security purposes, I would prefer this conversation was one-on-one,” Huevo said.

I nodded agreement, and Hooker and Huevo walked away from me. They stood at the water’s edge, their conversation lost in the surf. After a couple minutes, they turned and walked back.

Huevo inclined his head when he passed me. “I’ll have positions open in security if you’re interested in career advancement.”

I looked at Hooker. “What did he mean by that?”

“He’s not happy with Rodriguez and Lucca. They keep killing people. And even worse, they keep getting beat up by a girl.”

“That would be me.”

“Yeah. So he wants to sacrifice them for the chip we found in the gearshift knob. He says Lucca and Rodriguez are a liability. If we give Ray the chip, he’ll turn Lucca and Rodriguez over to the police, and he’ll pretend the hauler was never stolen.”

“Hard to believe the chip is that valuable. Especially now that Oscar is out of the picture. Ray can pretty much do whatever he wants.”

Hooker shrugged. “That’s what he said. And as an act of trust, he’s going to turn Rodriguez and Lucca in before we give him the chip.”

“That’s sweet.”

“Not entirely. He has Gobbles.” Hooker handed me a photo of Gobbles standing with his hands tied behind his back, not looking happy, Rodriguez on one side, Lucca on the other. “We get Gobbles back when Ray gets the chip and verifies its authenticity.”

“We should never have let Gobbles go off on his own.”

“Hindsight,” Hooker said. “Anyway, we get him back when we give Ray the chip.” Hooker nuzzled my neck and kissed me behind the ear. “I think we should celebrate.”

“I think a celebration is premature.”

“Darlin’, I really need to celebrate. I haven’t celebrated in a long time. In fact, it’s been so long, it’s probably appropriate if it’s a premature celebration because it’s going to be a premature?”

“Stop!” I had my hand up. “Let’s celebrate with onion rings at the bar.”