Liquid Courage Page 13

  Tagging her hips, I ask her, “Do you always screw with so much enthusiasm?”

  “I feel like saying no is the safe choice here.”

  “Really?”

  “It’s sex,” she smiles. “If you’re going to do it I feel like you should always bring your A game.”

  “No riding the bench?”

  “Hell no,” she huffs. “You’ll always get 100% from me.”

  “Do you think the kid is getting some tonight?”

  When her face screwed up in mortification, I couldn’t help it, I busted out laughing.

  When Diane called to ask me out for a girls’ day, I was pleasantly surprised. Ember had always been my go-to and in my line of work, making new friends wasn’t very easy. When I told Dion about it, he warned me to tread lightly with her. Of course, this irritated me so I made him elaborate.

  Dion explained that Roger saw her as a woman who needed saving. It’s funny what men see. Because I was with her less than thirty minutes and saw her as a woman who knew the man she loved needed to save her and because she loved him, she let him. She wasn’t nearly as fragile as she appeared. Deep inside her was a bad ass dying to get out. So, when a guy (prick) I used to work with at the department interrupted us trying to enjoy our coffee, Diane didn’t shrink back.

  Nope. She puffed up.

  “—is very successful,” Diane defends proudly. “Instead of insulting her, you should be congratulating her.”

  “I did, didn’t I?” Jim; a detective I had the displeasure of working with laughs. “I’m certain I said, I think Mercy being a PI is cute.”

  “You think what I do is cute?” I say standing. Seriously, why does every douche I run into think what I do is cute? It’s fucking annoying.

  “Look at you,” he laughs again. “You’re a pint-sized, PI.”

  “Ah,” I say reaching into my pocket for back up. “Here we go.”

  “You’re a narcissist,” Diane points at him. “And you have issues with strong women.”

  “I’m a realist, honey,” he rolls his eyes. “She couldn’t cut it in a man’s world so she became a PI. Like I said, cute. Kind of pathetic but, at least you’re working.”

  “That’s it,” I say, zapping him. When he grunted and went down, Diane started clapping and then like nothing happened went back to sipping her coffee. Moments later when Jim started running his mouth about both of us, I zapped him again for good measure. No one wants to listen to that shit.

  Now at lunch at a different location, we’ve transitioned to cocktails and girl talk. I learned Diane loves vodka sodas because she’s on her fourth. Getting drunk made her chatty, so I supplied her with another drink with orders to spill the beans. Which is how I learned that Roger’s ex is still an issue. Dion touched on it but Diane went balls deep. Apparently, the woman tried stabbing him to death and went full-psycho when he found out he was getting remarried.

  So, when she confesses, “She still follows me sometimes,” I set my glass down and asked, “What do you mean she still follows you sometimes?”

  “When I’m not with Roger, she has a habit of…showing up.”

  “And?”

  “And what? She gives me a hard time and no, I haven’t told him.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’d lose it and then I’d never be able to go anywhere without him. I love him, Mercy but, Roger would tie me to his side if he found out. I’m sure she’ll get tired of it and move on…eventually.”

  “Is she about five-eight, a hundred fifty pounds with blonde hair and huge boobs?”

  Visibly tensing she mumbles, “Yes, why?”

  “Oh nothing,” I say casually. “She’s just glaring daggers at you from the street.”

  “Shit,” she grunts. “Not today. I’m drunk and having fun! God, I hate her. She ruins everything.”

  “Do you trust me?” I ask softly.

  “Of course, why?”

  “Because this stops now.”

  “Wait, what?”

  Leaning in I explain, “You have to stand up to her, Diane. I know her type and until you shut her down, she’ll keep coming at you.”

  “Nursey,” she panics. “I’m just a murse.”

  And she was drunk… “You are more than a nurse, Diane. Take a stand today, I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “She’s…tough,” she whispers. “I’ve never been in a fight, ever. I’m not like you, I could never—”

  “Jungle rules, baby. You don’t have to be the lion. She just needs to think you are.”

  “How do I do that? Roar or something?”

  “No,” I smile. “We’re going to go outside and the second we clear that door you’re going to go full Mufasa.”

  “Full Mufasa,” she repeats. “Okay, what does that mean?”

  “Remember the asshole at the coffee shop?”

  “The one you zapped?” she says then I watch her eyes go round and smile break out on her face. “Holy shit, you’re going to zap her?”

  “No, honey. But, you are.”

  When her face lights up, I knew this was the right decision. Hell, even if crazy pants out there manages to dodge Diane, she’ll have me there. This bitches reign of terror ends now. Quickly giving her the CliffsNotes version I led her to the door when she asks one last time, “Just point and shoot?”

  “Point and shoot,” I assure her.

  And when she adds, “I have a few things to say before I zap her,” I made sure my camera was open so I could film. (Damn, kid was wearing off on me) Like a woman who has truly reached her limit, Diane storms out of the front door with purpose. Innocent pedestrians moved aside, which was smart considering she had my taser pointed at the she-devil. “You,” she growls standing right in front of her. “Make one move and I’ll drop you.”

  “Fuck you, whore –” the woman began to say but couldn’t finish because she was now on the cement, writhing.

  “Oh! That was fast!” Diane says staring at the weapon in her hand and it hit me, I might have created a monster. But I’d worry about that later.

  “Cops will be here soon, Diane. Wrap it up.”

  Standing over the woman, Diane warns, “I’m done with your shit. He chose me, get over it. Oh, and it’s always been me. And Mercy is training me to defend myself which means the next time I see you, I’ll use a gun. With bullets!”

  Still filming, I felt it prudent to ask, “Uh Diane, why does Satan look like a larger, meaner, version of you?”

  With sadness on her face she mutters, “Because she’s my sister.”

  Hello, plot twist. “You just zapped your sister,” I laugh loud.

  “I did, didn’t I?” she says right as the sirens sounded. “God, that felt good. Cops are coming, Mercy. Now what do I do? Run? Or hide?”

  “Did you happen to keep records of her harassment?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then when they show, you press charges.”

  “Okay, for what, though?”

  “She was about to assault you and you had no choice but to defend yourself.”

  Staring down at her sister, she says, “Hear that, Denise? I had no choice but to defend myself.”

  Glancing around, Diane blurts, “She just moved, did you see that, Mercy?”

  “I did,” and struggle not to laugh.

  Yelling, “She’s still a threat!” Diane bent down and zapped her again.

  With the cops now on site, I flashed my badge, making sure they knew the threat has been contained. On the low, I took my taser back, stuffing it in my bag. Diane, who I should mention was a live-wire, told every passer-by how bad ass she was. And yes, I sent that clip to her husband too.

  Roger, for his part, would either kill me or congratulate me for corrupting his wife.

  But until the shit hit the fan, we had a statement to give and drinks to finish.

  #bestgirlsdayever

  We were having scotch and a cigar when we got the first video. Since watching it, there was n
o talking him down. With Mercy giving commentary in the background and Diane repeatedly zapping Denise, my friend was in a panic. He wasn’t going to calm or listen to reason until he had his wife back in his arms.

  His reaction was even more explosive than I expected. Fear for his wife’s safety was riding him hard. Despite assuring him Mercy wouldn’t let anything happen to her, Roger was out of his mind. His ex had made Diane’s life a living hell since they were kids. Diane was Denise’s polar opposite. She was also the one who nursed Roger back to health, and the day she was removing his stitches admitted she’d been in love with him most of her life.

  When he met Denise, Roger’s interest had been in Diane.

  But Denise being Denise, told Roger her sister was taken along with a lot of other nasty shit. He stuck around Denise to get closer to Diane but it blew up in his face when she got pregnant. At the time, he’d only been with her once but he knew the baby had a fifty-fifty chance of being his. So, he married her and when Diane found out about the baby, she wished him well and moved an hour away.

  Not only did she lie about the pregnancy, when she found out he was about to open the den, he found out she was cheating. Seeing his out, he took it and tracked Diane down.

  Diane refused to have anything to do with Roger while he was married to Denise.

  A year later, Denise found out about Roger keeping tabs on Diane (who had a boyfriend) and went crazy, literally trying to kill him. So yes, Roger was very protective of his wife. A wife he feels he let down because he wasn’t man enough to take what he really wanted. A wife, who was his ex’s little sister. A sister Denise tortured for loving the man who settled for her.

  Not bothering to cut the engine, he flies out of the car and into the restaurant. On his heels, I cleared the door when I saw Diane run to Roger, wrapping herself around him. Hugging, kissing and making sure she was okay, Roger even had tears in his eyes. Quickly coming to my side, Mercy whispers, “I’m sorry.”

  Tilting her chin up, I ask, “Why?”

  “Because I –”

  “Right, Mercy?” Diane says excitedly. “I went queen of the jungle on her ass!”

  “You sure as hell did,” Mercy says proudly. “Twice, actually. Or, was it three? I lost count.”

  “I’m also filing a restraining order and giving the police what they need to make it stick.”

  Stilling, Roger asks her, “What they need?”

  “She stopped following you and uh, started following…me.”

  “She followed you?” he roars and I heard silverware hitting the floor. “And you never told me?”

  “I didn’t want to –”

  “Roger,” I start, but it was Mercy who says, “She handled it. It’s done. That bitch won’t bother your wife again.”

  Just noticing Mercy, he growls, “You.”

  “Roger,” I warn. “That’s my woman.”

  Stepping right to him, Mercy says, “Be pissed at me, I’ll take credit for putting it in her hand. But, what happened today was long overdue and it was Diane’s fight not yours.”

  Faster than I could react, he yanks her to him and hugs her tight. “Thank you,” he whispers. “Fuck, thank you, Mercy.”

  Breaking the tension, Diane announces, “I want my own taser,” and we all laughed as Roger paled. “A pink one!”

  Diane, as it turns out was no wilting flower and Roger wasn’t the only one who had just figured it out.

  But my Mercy, she’d known.

  Because Dion rode over with Roger, he was my passenger for the drive home.

  And don’t freak out, I was totally sober. Diane needed the liquid courage today not me. After explaining this to Dion for the second time, I snagged the ticket from my windshield, crumbled it up and ask him to, “Shove it in the glovebox for me.”

  Opening it up, when the rest of my infractions fall out he sighs, “Jesus, there’s got to be sixty tickets in here. You do plan to pay these, right?”

  “I’m saving up,” I say pulling into traffic.

  “The money?”

  “No, the time. I’d like to knock it all out in one trip.”

  “I’ve got a question,” he says shoving them all back.

  “Odds are good that I have an answer.”

  “You owned a sex shop so, where are all of your sex toys?”

  “I have a bullet and a clutch vibrator, what more do I need?” at his silence I ask, “Did you think I sat around trying them all out?”

  “No,” he grins. “But I was hoping you did.”

  “If you ask nicely, I’ll give you a live demonstration.”

  “You’ll give me one, regardless,” he says squeezing my thigh. “You can’t say no to me.”

  “True. And you know, my liquid courage theory is officially iron clad. Diane is scientific proof that I’m right.”

  “How did you know she’d do it?”

  Being honest I admit, “At first, I didn’t. But I had high hopes and was there in case she froze.”

  And then when I ran over a curb Dion started groaning, “Fuck, Mercy, do you have any idea what curbs do to your under carriage?”

  Waving him off, I explain, “I care about my under carriage because? The only one who will see it is the one I run over, so why stress it?”

  “You’ve run a person over?”

  “What, are you the cops?”

  Laughing, he takes my hand in his and squeezes. “No, I’m not the cops.”

  “Then sit there and look pretty.”

  “I hate to kill the moment but we have things to discuss.”

  “Way to preface killing the mood by actually doing it,” I deadpan.

  “We’ve still got no leads on who was responsible for the damage to your shop, touched your face and strapped you to a God damn chair with enough fake C4 to level a small country. This is not typical PI shit we’re dealing with here and I think we need to go to the police. We need help, resources.”

  “You can say bomb,” I inform him. “Some fuckwit used a bomb on my shop. Likely the same son of a bitch who Tyson’d my face and strapped a fake exploding vest to my chest. And I am the help and the resources, Dion. Hell, we don’t even know where to start, so what makes you think the police will? They may ask for my help from time to time, but my career choice is a running joke to most of them. Bottom line, we’re on our own.”

  “This needs our total focus, Mercy. Your safety is too important to ignore.”

  “I’m not ignoring anything,” I say with attitude. “But until I have something to go on, I’m no closer to answers than you are.”

  “Why are you not more upset about this?” he asks tensely. “You don’t look over your shoulder or take extra precautions. You can’t pretend this didn’t happen.”

  “Dion,” I sigh. “Just because I play it cool doesn’t mean I’m not paying attention. Over the years, I’ve pissed off enough people that it would take a miracle to figure out who it is and I’m not a fan of guesswork. All I know is, if this person or persons wanted me dead; I’d be dead.”

  “You think they’re toying with you?”

  “I think they’re warning me off; but the question is, off what? And until they fuck up and show their hand, which they will, criminals always do, all we can do is prepare for it.”

  “If I asked you to lay low, take some time off, would you do it?”

  “Nope.”

  “That’s what I thought,” he says with pure frustration.

  “You wanted to partner up,” I remind him. “So, this is me asking you to do exactly that. We don’t run, we don’t hide, and we don’t lay low. We have each other’s back without question. So, I guess the big question is, are you still with me, Dion?”

  Letting out a harsh breath, he squeezes my hand and vows, “Yeah Mercy, I’m with you. And when we find out who’s behind this, I’m killing them, slowly.”

  “God, I love it when you talk dirty.”

  “When I get you home,” he says in a gravely tone. “I’m going to fuck t
he ever-loving shit out of you. But first, Roger and Diane want to celebrate her violent side by treating us to dinner tonight.”

  Giving him my biggest smile, I clap enthusiastically and laugh when he grabs the wheel so we won’t crash.

  “I’m requesting you wear a dress,” he says seductively. “Never seen you in a dress, Mercy.”

  “For you,” I say glancing his way. “Anything.”

  Searching my eyes, he asks, “Anything?”

  “Until I fall asleep and again when I wake up.”

  “I’ll always know. I can sense it. I can see it, smell it, taste it. I’ll always know what you need.”

  I know this to be true because two and a half hours later, Dion knew I needed Benadryl.

  Turns out, I’m allergic to oysters.

  Mercy on allergy meds might be the most entertaining nightmare I have ever seen. It was so hilarious, I called Roger and asked him to bring his wife with him back to the den to witness it.

  Two hours ago, Mercy broke out into a rash after eating oysters. Wearing the sexiest dress I have ever seen, I was admiring her soft skin when it started getting blotchy.

  When her lips started to swell, we hauled ass to the pharmacy and the second we walked in the door I gave her two pills. Never having had a reaction before, Mercy yelled, “I could die!” and took two more.

  Now? She was high as a kite and it was adorable.

  Half in her lap, half on the sofa, Mercy was twirling Diane’s hair between her fingers. “You are soooo beautiful,” she gushed. “You smell like happiness and palm trees.”

  “Thank you,” Diane blushes.

  “You guys,” she motions to us. “She could be a model!”

  “I’m a lucky man,” Roger smiles.

  “Only got eyes for you, baby,” I promise her.

  “I only got eyes for Diane!” she says trying to kiss her.

  “Oh my,” she says with wide lust filled eyes. “She’s very…handsy.”

  “You ever do the handyman or the lust tornado?” Mercy leans in close.