Chapter 3

Kate Fitz lived four blocks over and two blocks down from my parents, in the heart of the Burg. Lula pulled her Firebird to the curb and we both got out to eye Kate's half of the little duplex. The postage stamp sized front yard was cluttered with a swing, two tricycles, and a small bicycle with training wheels. There was screaming emanating from the house. We could see Kate through the front window, balancing a toddler on her hip while she chased two others around the living room.

"Good news is, she's home," Lula said. "And the other good news is that I bet she'd be willing to pay us to take her to jail. Probably it would be a nice vacation for her."

We trudged our way up the chalk-covered front walk and I knocked on the door. The screaming came to an abrupt stop, and I peered over to see two little noses pressed to the front window. I gave them a finger wave while the front door opened.

Kate Fitz was about about an inch shorter than me and about 15 pounds heavier. She had curly red hair and a cute button nose, and all the concealer in the world would be no match for the dark circles under her eyes. The toddler on her hip had a runny nose.

I introduced myself and gave her my go-to line about needing to reschedule her court date.

"I'm sorry I missed my first one," she said. "The twins had the flu. When can we reschedule?"

"You'll have to come with me down to the courthouse. They'll get you fixed up with a new date." The part that I failed to mention was that before she got a new date, she'd also be rebooked and would need to post bond again.

"Oh jeez," she said. "Can you fit three car seats in your car?"

I glanced back at the Firebird. "Not so much."

"I would offer to drive us, except my minivan is in the shop."

"Do you have someone who could come watch the kids while we go to the station?"

Kate shook her head. "My parents moved to Boca six weeks ago, and they were our only childcare option. Ever since then, we haven't been able to find anyone else who's trustworthy. And believe me, I haven't been that picky."

"Not a neighbor? A coworker? A friend?"

"The only neighbor I know is Mrs. Seaver, and she's 90. I worry that if she had to get down on the floor with the kids, she wouldn't be able to get back up. I don't work, and all my friends have babies of their own, so I'd hate to drag them over here."

"Excuse me for a minute," I told Kate. I pulled Lula to the side. "You're going to have to stay here with the kids while I go turn her in."

"I don't think so. What if she can't get rebonded? What then? Remember what happened to you when you promised Morelli's cousin Loretta that you'd watch her kid while you took her to reschedule? How she couldn't get rebonded and then you got stuck with that kid for a week? I can't take that risk. I got a date tonight."

Kate was looking between Lula and me with wide eyes. "Is that a possibility? That I might get stuck in jail?"

"That hardly ever happens," I assured her.

"Well this sucks!" Kate cried. The toddler on her hip looked startled at her outburst. She set him down and he scurried back to his siblings. She stood hands on hips and shook her head. "This is all Chris's fault! I should never have pulled that fire alarm. It was a dumb idea. I just didn't know how else to flush him out, you know? What else was I supposed to do?"

"Sometimes it seems like you've got a real good plan to get something done, and then it's not until after you've just done it that you realize it wasn't such a good idea," Lula said.

"Hindsight is 20/20," I agreed.

"Now that you've got hindsight, you'll know next time not to stick around long enough for the police to show up."

"I needed to stick around so I could see Chris leaving," Kate said. "That was the whole point. I followed him to that disgusting place, but I didn't see which room he went into, and I couldn't get the guy at the front desk to tell me anything."

"That's actually reassuring," Lula said. "They don't call them no-tell motels for nothing. I like that the front desk guy was upholding the reputation of his establishment."

"Who is Chris?" I asked.

"My husband. My lying, cheating, dirtbag husband!"

I glanced nervously over Kate's shoulder into the house, but the kids were back to screaming. Doubtful they were overhearing anything. The puzzle was coming together, and I was actually feeling pretty sympathetic to Kate's situation. I'd had my own experience with a lying, cheating, dirtbag husband.

"So you suspected your husband of cheating on you, and you pulled the fire alarm so you could see who came out of the motel with him."

"Exactly," she said. "Except that jerkface cop arrested me, and I lost Chris in the crowd by the time I was dragged out to the car!"

Donald Schmidt was the officer listed on Kate's arrest, and he actually was a jerkface. No use pointing that out, I figured. "Where is your husband now? Do you think he could watch the kids while we run to the station and get you rebonded?"

"He's at work. He's always at work!"

"When does he get done working?" I asked. "Maybe we can come back later today when he gets home."

"Your guess is as good as mine. Lately it seems like he's been getting home later and later. Last night I was already asleep by the time he was home, and then he was gone when I woke up this morning."

I bit my lip. The courthouse closed at 5:30, and if I couldn't get Kate there before closing, she'd have to stay overnight before she could get bonded back out. "Do you think you could ask him to try to make it home early tonight?"

Her answer was interrupted by a thundering crash from inside her house. The screaming had cut off abruptly, and we all froze for several long heartbeats until it picked back up again, but louder.

"I'm sorry, I can't go to reschedule right now." Kate sounded defeated. "Could you try back later?"

Before I could explain to her that it didn't really work that way, she'd closed the door in our faces.

"On the bright side, that wasn't one of our worst attempts," Lula said as we buckled ourselves back into the Firebird.

Sadly, she was right. I'd have to decide how to approach the Kate Fitz situation. Truth be told, I wasn't feeling especially motivated to bring her in. Seemed to me that Kate's husband was the one who deserved to be dragged into the police station. If only extramarital sex were a criminal offense.

That thought gave me a queasy feeling, though, as I remembered the impure thoughts I'd had about Ranger in the shower that morning. Not to mention the pretty darn impure actions carried out against the kitchen counter. Sure, Morelli and I were 'off again', but I had to assume we'd get back together sooner or later. It was coming up on three weeks since our big argument, which meant we were quickly closing in on our quota. Obviously we weren't married, and technically our commitment to each other was loosey-goosey, but all that knowledge didn't do anything to settle the guilt swirling around in my stomach.

"What's the matter with you? You look like you just ate some bad potato salad."

I shook my head. "I'm fine. Who's next?"

"You tell me. I'm the wheelman today. That means you gotta do the navigating. Who are we going after next?"

"I have a lead on Lenny Bennett," I told her.

Fifteen minutes later, Lula slid to the curb in front of a row house that had seen better days but probably hadn't yet seen its worst. The neighborhood was home to mostly singles who lived paycheck-to-paycheck and were more concerned with saving up for a new television than they were in improving their bigger-picture circumstances.

"Which one is this? It's not one of them armed ones, is it?" Lula asked.

"This is Dougie Kruper's house. I got a tip that Lenny Bennett is working for Dougie now. I'm thinking we might find him here."

"Where'd you get that tip?"

"From Lenny, last night at dinner."

"Are you telling me you had dinner with Lenny Bennett last night? And you still didn't capture him and haul his butt back to jail?"

"It was a set-up by my mother. She doesn't like it when I slap cuffs on people at the dinner table."

"You really gotta hurry up and patch things up with Officer Hottie."

A sigh escaped me before I pushed off of the Firebird and made my way up Dougie's driveway to the front door. I rang the doorbell and waited a minute, and then knocked. Then rang the doorbell again. I could hear vague noises from inside.

"Are we gonna go around and check the windows?" Lula asked.

Before we could get around to that, Dougie opened the door. He blinked out at me. "Hey, it's you. You're not here to arrest me, are you?"

Uh-oh. "That's not really how my job works. Why do you think you're going to get arrested?"

He looked relieved. "You just never know. You know?"

"I see what you're sayin'," Lula told him. "In my former line of work, that was a real concern of mine, and even though I've got a new job on the right side of the law, it's hard to shake the feeling that you might get arrested anytime you see a cop."

"I'm not a cop," I reiterated. "But I'm looking for Lenny Bennett. He told me he was working with you."

"Yeah, Lenny's a real marketing whiz. He's a genius. I got lucky that he was the one who answered my ad."

"Is he here?"

"I don't think so."

"You're not sure?" I prompted.

"You wanna come in and see if you can find him?" Dougie pushed the front door open behind him and stepped aside.

I stood rooted to the stoop. Behind Dougie, stacks of boxes and bags and clothes and food and who-knows-what-else loomed high overhead. And it was one stack after another. Solid walls of stuff as far as the eye could see. I'd been to Dougie's house before and hadn't felt the need to call Hoarders Anonymous. This was new.

"What's with all the stuff?"

"I had a windfall recently," Dougie said. "I've been bestowed some new inventory."

I cautiously stepped over the threshold with Lula right behind me. I took a small step to my right to let her pass, pressing myself up against a double stack of pallets filled with video games and consoles. I was getting a sinking feeling about why Dougie thought he was going to be arrested.

Against my better judgement, I asked, "Where did this all come from?"

"I told you, I had a windfall."

"Do I see some handbags back here?" Lula was edging her way toward the back of the living room, stepping carefully.

"I've got all kinds of bags. Big bags, small bags, pocketbooks. Are you in the market?" Dougie asked. "On account of my inventory problem, I've got a two for one sale happening."

"I love a two for one sale," Lula said.

"I'm sure I could make you an even better deal, too, seeing as you're a friend of Stephanie's."

"Tell me about your inventory problem," I asked Dougie.

"I wasn't expecting my windfall, and I already had some inventory on hand. When the windfall came, it was sort of too much, you know? I don't like to look a gift windfall in the mouth or whatever, but if I'd known it was coming, I'd have cleared out some more space. So I rented out a couple units down at the Store-N-Save, but now time is money, man. I've gotta move some inventory. Gotta consolidate."

"And where does Lenny come in?"

"He's my marketing man. He's gonna help me offload some of this inventory ASAP. Mostly I deal with regular customers, but my regulars aren't gonna be able to consume all of this, so Lenny's been helping me. We're doing pop-up shops and flash sales and all sorts of stuff I'd never thought of before. Lenny's really been taking The Dealer to the next level."

"When's your next flash sale?"

"Next Saturday."

"And Lenny will be there?"

"Yeah, he has to help me with the transactions. It's too much for The Dealer to do on his own. Lenny's a lifesaver."

"Where is it, and what time?"

"It's at 5:30 at the Store-N-Save. We're planning on appealing to the after-work crowd. Are you gonna come?"

"Yep," I said. "We'll be there."

Lula left with two new handbags and two packs of hamburger buns. Dougie had thrown the hamburger buns in for free with purchase. Apparently his windfall had included a mix of food and a random assortment of consumer goods. Probably a Walmart out there was missing a delivery.

"I still think you should've gotten that handbag and those new jeans," Lula told me. "Knowing you, you'll need those jeans before too long. You go through jeans like no one I ever met, always getting holes ripped and whatnot."

That was unfortunately true. "I'm being careful about my purchases right now."

"I hear you. I always admired you for that. You've always been better than me at self-control with your purchases."

The thought was a scary one, because I wasn't especially good at managing my finances. I considered it a win if I could pay my rent on time and still have money leftover for groceries. And as far as the self-control goes, it wasn't something I considered one of my strong suits. Although I'd managed to resist dragging Ranger back to bed that morning, so maybe I was being too hard on myself.

"Maybe if we make a capture today, you can come back later for the jeans," Lula said.

"I'll just have Dougie bring them to the flash sale next weekend," I said.

"Good thinking. Where we off to next?"

I pulled my skip files out of my bag and thumbed through them while Lula drove us aimlessly around the neighborhood. Aside from Kate Fitz and Lenny Bennett, I had three more FTAs on the loose. Roger Klueger was wanted for armed robbery. He'd held up the driver of an 18-wheeler at gunpoint, and had been in the process of trying to cut open several of the pallets in the back of the truck when police arrived. There was a note in the file that police suspected Roger of having partners, since by the time a second officer arrived after the first had hauled Roger to the station, more than half of the merchandise was missing off the truck.

"Uh-oh. Why are you hitting yourself in the head like that?" Lula asked.

"It's nothing," I told her. That was my story, and I was sticking to it. It wasn't my business where the merchandise ended up, it was just my business to bring in Klueger. Maybe I'd delay him another couple of days in hopes that Dougie could fence more of his inventory before anyone had a chance to connect the dots.

That left us with Vincent Guzman, who was wanted for assault with a deadly weapon. Or Gabriella Ayala, the new skip Connie gave me yesterday. I hadn't had a chance to do much phone work on Gabriella yet, but if she was new in town, then probably it wouldn't get me very far anyway.

I was having a hard time getting excited about either of those. "Is it too early for lunch?"

"It's never too early," Lula said. "We can go to Cluck-in-a-Bucket, on account of it's one of those all-hours establishments. It's close enough to noon that we could call this lunch, but also they got breakfast biscuits if we feel more like brunch."

We made a pitstop, and after the perfect combination of salt and grease and carbohydrates, I was feeling a little more motivated.

Lula was right there with me. "That was an excellent working lunch. I'm all fueled up. Where to next? Let's track 'em down. Who are we after?"

"Gabriella Ayala."

"Let's go. Where is she?"

"There's an address listed on Stark Street."

"Hold up," Lula said. "Is this the girl who was hanging around Stark and Twelfth, trying to make a deal?"

"That's her."

"On second thought, I might not be feeling so good. That lunch may not be sittin' well with me. I'd better go home and take a nap."

"You'd make me go visit Stark by myself?"

Lula gave a sigh. "I guess I can't do that. Besides, from what I know of Stark and Twelfth, our best bet might be to pretend we're 'hos to get some information. And no offense, but you don't know nothing about being a good 'ho. Even though it's a pretend 'ho, you've gotta know the part you're playing."

"So you'll help me?"

"Sure. But I'm not taking my baby to Stark Street." She caressed the dash of the Firebird. "We've gotta take your car. Maybe you'll get real lucky and someone will steal it."

One could only hope.

###

In the end, we decided to just try being bounty hunters rather than 'hos. Lula feared that my act wouldn't be convincing in my jeans and t-shirt and sneakers. I agreed.

We had our plan, but neither of us were particularly eager to execute it. I'd parked on the 800 block of Stark, which was the last semi-legitimate stretch. As the street numbers got higher, the cumulative IQ of the residents got lower and the neighborhood rapidly degenerated into no-man's land. The types of businesses that thrived below Eighth were bars, bodegas, laundromats, and pizza joints. The only businesses that thrived starting around the 900 block and above were whorehouses and crack dens. Any of the row houses that weren't firebombed or otherwise condemned were home to five times the residents they were built for, and it was a crapshoot whether the apartments had furniture or just dirty mattresses on the ground.

We'd parked in front of a bodega with bars on the windows and a heavy fire door that was propped open. "We may as well start here."

"Right behind you," Lula assured me.

I left the car unlocked, all the better to encourage someone to take it off my hands. If I could get an insurance payout for the Honda, then I wouldn't have to worry as much about closing out all of my open files. I'd have some cash to get me through to my first paycheck from my new job. Of course, I wouldn't have a car. Details.

I introduced myself to the woman behind the counter at the bodega. "We're looking for someone."

"Honey, this isn't that kinda place. You go a few blocks down, and I'm sure someone can show you a good time."

"Do we look like we're here for a good time?" Lula asked. "We're on business. This is a official bounty hunter visit."

I showed her the only photo we had of Gabriella, which was the mug shot from her arrest. "Have you seen this woman?"

"I don't see nothin' or no one. It's unhealthy to see things in this neighborhood."

"This woman missed her court date, and I'm trying to help her reschedule," I tried.

The woman snorted. "I see you're a real do-gooder."

"Excuse me, but I don't like your attitude," Lula told her. "We're doing a public service here. We're cleaning up the streets. Seems you'd have a vested interest in that, seeing as this is your place of business. And the least you could do is help us. Have you seen this woman, or not?"

"Not."

We stepped back out to the sidewalk and Lula put a hand to her hip. "If that's the kind of reception we get for trying to do the right thing and bring these butts back to jail, I have half a mind to quit just like you did."

"Connie will have a coronary event if we both quit at the same time."

"I suppose that's true. With you being one foot out the door, I need to be a stabilizing influence for the office."

"I don't think the reception is going to get any warmer where we're heading next."

As the addresses went up, the age of the residents congregating on the streets went down. A pair of teenagers sitting on a stoop eyed us as we passed. The boy wore lightwash jeans that pooled around his $500 sneakers and was sporting a blue bandana. The girl sitting next to him had her hand near an indecent part of his anatomy, considering it was broad daylight.

"How much if I wanna do the skinny one while the big one watches?"

The girl removed her hand and used it to whack the guy upside the head, and I picked up my pace to hurry to the end of the block.

"Guess I was wrong about you passing for a 'ho," Lula said.

Lucky me.

We spotted a couple of guys across the street and up a block, making a deal. I didn't want to spook anyone and end up with any unnecessary bullet holes, so we hung back for a few while they finished their business before we hustled over. The guy running his business was leaning against the side of a building covered in graffiti. He was also wearing a blue bandana, and I started to get nervous. I glanced over at Lula. Today she was sporting little white spandex shorts and a pink sequined tank top. Probably no local gangs would have claimed pink as their colors. And I was safe because my t-shirt was white. White was neutral, right? They could think of me as Switzerland.

"What can I do for you ladies?" he asked.

"I've just gotta say, this here is refreshing," Lula said. "You've got some manners. It's not always you find that these days. As a mater of fact, we're here to ask for your help."

"I've got all the help you need. I've got the cure to whatever ails you. What do you need, girl?"

"I'm looking for someone," I told him. "I'm wondering if you've seen her."

"I hear you. Who you looking for? I'm sure I can help. You need Molly? Addies? Barbs? Blanco? Aunt Hazel?"

"This is fascinating. I don't even recognize half those names," Lula said. "You get out of the game for a couple years and all the sudden you don't even know the players anymore."

"Don't worry, Sugar, I got you," the guy said. "You looking to go up or down?"

"We're not looking to go anywhere. We're looking for a woman named Gabriella Ayala." I showed him the mugshot. "Do you know her?"

He glanced down at the mugshot and then stepped back. "Get the fuck out of here with that shit."

"You've seen her?"

"I've never seen that woman in my life. Now get out of here."

"Was she a customer?"

"You're bad for business. Shoo."

"Excuse me? 'Shoo'? Did you just shoo us?" Lula went hands to hips and leaned forward. "I don't appreciate being shoo'd. Have you got something to tell us about this Gabriella person, or what?"

"I never saw her, for real. And if you know what's good for you, you didn't either." He retreated into the building, and going in there wasn't high on my priority list, so I let him go.

"Hunh," Lula said. "I used to like him, but now I get the feeling he's not real truthful."

We walked for another block before we came upon another dealer. He watched us approach until we got within ten feet, and then he lifted his shirt with his left hand and put his right on the gun sticking out of his pants. We turned on our heels and skittered away.

I came to a stop in front of a dilapidated row house. The street numbers tacked onto the vinyl siding looked like they read 1098, but the 9 was hanging below all the other numbers, so I was pretty confident that it had started life as a 6 before it lost one if its nails. To be sure, I double-checked the address on the building we'd just passed. We were in the right place.

"What's the plan?" Lula asked.

"Gabriella lives here, in 3C. I want to try to talk to some of her neighbors."

The house was three stories, with two units on each floor. No one answered the door at any of the ground floor units. On the second floor, we spoke with a woman who answered the door with a screaming baby on her hip. She said she'd never seen Gabriella, and I was inclined to believe her. She looked so sleep-deprived that I could've shown her my own mugshot and she would've said she'd never seen me, either. On the third floor, a man confirmed that he'd seen Gabriella around.

"When's the last time that you saw her?" I asked.

"Must've been about a week ago."

"Do you know if she has a job? Did you see her coming or going from the apartment at certain times?"

"We never really spoke. I can't say about the job, except that she always looked fairly put-together, so I assume she had some sort of money coming in. Not like one of those dead-eyed girls looking for a cheap fix, you know?"

Seeing as she was arrested for attempt to purchase, I'd say she must've been looking for some kind of fix. "What about her schedule? Did it seem consistent?"

"I really only seen her around a couple times. Mostly I see her roommate."

I perked up; this was news to me. "What does her roommate look like?"

"Long, dark hair. Nice shape. Pretty. Hispanic."

He could have been describing Gabriella. "What times do you tend to see her around?"

"I think she usually gets home around 7. I hear the television going most nights from about 7 to 10. The walls are thin."

I thanked him, and Lula and I made our way back down the stairs and out into the afternoon sun. A black SUV sat at the curb in front of the building, and the window rolled down while we ambled over.

Hal looked out at us. He was one of Ranger's Merry Men, an employee of Rangeman. "The control room saw that you were sitting around on Stark, and we got a little worried. I was just about to come in and find you. Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," I said. "Did you see if my car was still parked a few blocks back?"

"Yeah, it's still there. Still got its wheels and everything."

"Damn."

Hal chuckled. "You want me to make it disappear? Have an accident?"

The idea was appealing, but in my experience, it would take a couple of weeks to get the insurance check. By that time, it wouldn't do me any good because I'd already be kicked out of my apartment. I was better off keeping the car, staying mobile, and trying to track down my last few skips. Still, an accident for the Honda was a nice fantasy. I sighed. "Nah. Thanks anyway."

He gave a small salute, the window rolled up, and Hal was off.

"I'll come back later to see if I can catch the roommate," I said to Lula. "For now, I still want to head to Twelfth and ask around."

"I don't think no one on Twelfth is going to be feeling very talkative," Lula said.

"Can't hurt to try."

Okay, so that was a big fat fib. It could hurt us to try talking to the crowds that hung out on Twelfth. But as they say, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Right? It sounded good in theory. Maybe that could be my new motto, to go with my new life.

The colors repped on the streets changed from blue to red when we crossed Eleventh on Stark. Maybe the reds would be more talkative than the blues had been. I sidled up to two guys and a girl who were hanging out on a stoop.

"Excuse me. I'm looking for someone, and I'm wondering if you can help me."

"Why would I do that?" one of the guys asked.

Good question. I had fifteen dollars on me, and I didn't think that was going to cut it as an incentive. Besides, I really needed that fifteen dollars. I forged on. "I'm looking for a woman named Gabriella."

The guy in a red t-shirt cut his eyes to me. "What do you know about Gabriella?"

"She missed her court date, and I need to bring her in and get her rescheduled. I represent her bail bondsman."

The other guy with gold chains around his neck snorted at me. "Not surprised. That girl is stupid as shit. She was new in town and all, so I figured I'd try to help her, right?"

The girl who was sitting with him sucked in some air. "You knew Gabriella?"

"This was before I met you, baby," he said.

"Yeah, but…"

The red t-shirt guy stood, and pulled the girl up by the arm. "I think you're the one who's stupid as shit," he told Chains.

He and the girl hurried across the street and didn't look back.

"How did you know Gabriella?" I tried again.

"I didn't, really. Like I said, I tried to help her out. I ain't been here long, but even I know a cop when I see one. I told her not to try to buy from that dude, but bitch didn't listen. Look where she is now."

Gabriella was arrested when she'd tried to make a deal with Trey Barton. I didn't know Trey well, but Morelli used to work with him when he was with Vice.

"When's the last time you saw her?"

"I ain't seen her since that night," the guy said.

I thanked the guy and left him sitting there alone. Lula and I continued down to the end of the block, and then I paused.

"Are there more of these young entrepreneurs we need to talk to, or can we get out of here now?" Lula asked.

"I think I'm done." I hadn't learned much of anything, but at least I had the roommate lead.

We headed back to the car, and even though I knew it wasn't in my best interest, I was still half-hoping it wouldn't be there when we arrived. Of course I should have known that wasn't my luck.

The POS Honda had survived, but it had gotten a new paint job. It was covered in graffiti - a bunch of symbols I didn't know, plus a bunch of words in a language I couldn't read. I did know the one that was written in bold across the entire driver's side.

I could practically feel the steam coming out my ears, and I tried to take slow breaths. It was no use. I was hot, and tired, and poor. I was so close to being done with my sucky job and onto my new life - all I had to do was bring in these last few skips and earn myself some financial breathing room. My open cases weren't criminal masterminds, but I couldn't even bring them in. I was a failure.

"I hate this! I hate this stupid street! I hate this stupid car! No one will even take this stupid car!" I kicked the wheel as hard as I could, but it was supremely unsatisfying and all I succeeded in doing was hurting my toe. Instead, I backed up a step and lined up a kick to the side mirror. It came clean off. Much better. I stomped on it, and the mirror shattered under the heel of my sneaker.

"Whoa there," Lula said. "Slow down, Destructo. That's bad luck. We'd better see if we got any salt packets in the car, so you can throw them over your shoulder."

"I don't care!" I cried, still crunching what was left of the mirror beneath my foot. "Look at this. How much worse can my luck get? We've spent all day busting our butts and what do we have to show for it? Nothing!"

"Here you go being all glass-half-empty again. I thought you'd turned a corner, but now we're back where you started. Maybe it's that bad luck starting already."

"I want a new job."

"Yeah, you said that. You wanna go back to pick up an application for Cluck-in-a-Bucket? I bet they'd hire you. You already got some training from last time."

"No!" I squinched my eyes shut and forced a deep breath in through my nose and out through my mouth. "I'm going to get a quiet desk job somewhere. Something I'm good at. I'll work 9 to 5, and I'll be home in time to eat dinner and put the kids to bed, and then I'll enjoy a glass of wine on my deck."

Lula went wide-eyed. "Say what? Kids? I never hear you talk about wanting kids."

Yeah, that part sounded weird. "Okay, so maybe I'll just get home in time to eat dinner and put Rex to bed. And then the wine on the deck!"

"Do you mean on your little fire escape? The one where you found me after Ramirez beat the you-know-what outta me?"

"No!" Another deep breath. And then another. "I'm going to make enough money at my new job that I'll move out of my shitty apartment and into a nice house with a backyard and a deck. And there will never be bodies on the fire escape, or blood on the carpet, or bombs thrown in the window. No one will ever break in and I won't need to worry about waking up with men in my bedroom!"

"Hold up. I hear what you're saying about the dead bodies and the blood, but are you sure this new life isn't starting to sound a little on the dull side?"

"Pretty sure."