Cop a Feel (Handcuffs and Happily Ever Afters) (18 page)

“I should, you arrogant pig, but I just can’t think of it right now.”

He chuckled and then dropped the real bomb. “Oh and Candy, just so you know . . . I’m in love with you.”

“Don’t you dare say that,” I yelled at him. WTF? What right did he have to say something like that? “You cannot say stuff like that. Do you hear me?”

He smiled his wicked sexy smile and watched me unravel. “You can yell all you want, but it won’t change a thing. Oh . . . and don’t worry, baby. You don’t have to say it, but I know you love me too.” He winked, slapped my rubber-covered ass, and walked over to the door.

I thought my head was going to explode. “You are such a conceited fucktard. I should shoot your ass,” I stammered. “You have no idea what’s inside my head. You are so full of yourself and . . . and assholish.”
Jesus Christ, I did not just say assholish. It wasn’t even a word.

“What the hell is happening in here?” Shoshanna asked with concern.

“I told her I loved her; she cussed me out and threatened to shoot me.” He grinned.

I flipped him the bird and shoved my Glock into my purse.

“Sounds like love to me,” Shoshanna said, giving her son a high five.

“That’s what I thought too.”

“Holy hell, you people are nuts,” I shouted. “We’re gonna be late. Move it. Now.”

I gave them the silent treatment all the way to the signing while Luke grinned and stared at my tits. Shoshanna, clearly taking her son’s side, bounced like a ball and hummed the wedding march. This fucking day couldn’t be over soon enough. The thought of the lesbian sisters coming sounded like a vacation compared to being ganged up on by my kinda boyfriend and his insane almost-mom.

Wait . . . did he really mean what he said? Fuuuuck, I think he did.

S
hoshanna sat at a long table covered with her books and swag. Jim sat to her left. He was wide-eyed and positively giddy. He really was something to look at. I noticed Luke’s disapproving stare as I discreetly checked Jim out. He moved his hand to where his gun was hidden and raised his eyebrows. I rolled my eyes and laughed. He was crazy. One hundred percent certifiable . . . and I loved it. Dammit.

Shoshanna stuck her fingers in her mouth and let loose with one of her deafening whistles. I’d seen the move coming and quickly covered my ears. Jim wasn’t so lucky. He blanched and covertly checked his ears for blood. The chatter in the room ceased and the large group waited with excitement.

“Everybody, my hotter than Satan’s underpants son, Duke LeHump, has created my new signature move.” She raised her little arms in the air. “I would be fucking honored if all of you would do my move until you leave. It makes me feel proud and I hope to hell all of you are wearing deodorant.”

I’d never seen so many hands shoot up at the same time. It was like a unison bust of two hundred and fifty people. Amazing. This was going to make a potential nightmare doable. I had to hand it to the fucktard. He was brilliant.

“Now form a nice line and I’ll start signing! Oh, and I want you all to meet my new protégé. He’s mind-bogglingly talented and I’d read the goddamned phone book if he wrote it. He’ll be published next year and will be happy to sign anything you got!”

“Will he sign my boob?” a busty gal in a leather ball gown asked.

“I don’t know.” She turned to a red-faced Jim. “Will ya?”

“Um, sure,” he said nervously. Shoshanna was like the Fairy Godmother from Cinderella. She was full of magic, and I was sure this was only the beginning for Jim.

“What’s that sexy writer’s name?” another fan yelled.

“His name is Jim . . . Jim, um . . . What the hell is your last name?” Shoshanna shouted, clearly forgetting Jim was seated right next to her.

He winced in pain. I was sure his ears hadn’t healed from the whistle. “It’s Jim Kallenminski.”

“What the fuck kind of name is that?” she bellowed.
That was rich coming from someone who called herself Shoshanna LeHump.
“That’s just not gonna work for an author. I have a great idea,” she gushed, and stood up on her chair. “We’re gonna give Jim a new last name! Are you Street Walkers in?”

The crowd went nuts and names came flying faster than the employees running around in Frisky Business when I walked in to buy my rubber hooker outfits.

“LeHump,” someone shrieked.

“Already taken.” Shoshanna laughed.

“Williams.”

“Peterman.”

“Fauntleroy.”

“SexyAss.”

“Jameson.”

“That’s it!” Shoshanna bellowed. “Jim Jameson. Are you Irish?” she asked a laughing Jim.

“No, but I like the whiskey.” He grinned and a few of the gals in the front melted.

“Sold!” Shoshanna hugged Jim, sat down, and got to business.

I kept my eyes on the crowd while Luke watched the ones closest to Shoshanna. We worked together like a well-oiled team. No words were necessary. It was perfect. I felt the tingle and was secure in the knowledge he was on the same wavelength. I couldn’t believe he could really give this up. Granted, it wasn’t our usual job, but there was still risk involved. Hell, had I become an adrenaline junky? Stop. No time for thinking about anything other than finding and eliminating the threat.

The mass of fans came in all shapes and sizes. They were mostly women, with a few men thrown in here and there. The excitement was palpable and the questions were many.

“Shoshanna, is the next book Bruce and Donna’s story?”

“Yep, I love those two bastards and I can’t wait to see what happens to them,” she answered, and signed the woman’s book.

“What’s going to happen? Will they be able to work it out?” The woman was a mess, truly on pins and needles about two people who weren’t real.

“That’s to be determined,” Shoshanna told her. “But I’m watching them carefully.” She glanced over and winked at me. No fucking way. Were Luke and I actually Donna and Bruce? I was going to kick her little purple rubber butt when we got back to the room. Of course that wouldn’t be for a while since Luke had a pageant rehearsal after the signing. Lord, I hoped he’d worn his underpants tonight . . .

The crowd was fairly calm and respectful. It was evident that Shoshanna was adored and revered. It was actually fun to watch. I noticed Luke looking on with pride and I almost got choked up. Refocusing on the crowd, I froze. Luke’s head snapped to me and his eyes zoned in on my subject. What the hell was Pat of the unidentifiable sexual orientation doing here? My stomach felt light and my hand went to my gun. As if this person knew they’d been caught, Pat’s gaze met mine. Pat’s eyes grew huge. Pat turned and quickly ran out of the room. Was it fucking Pat? Was Junsen here too? Had I missed something major during that interview? I turned to Luke and mouthed, “I’m on it.” He nodded and tensed. I knew he would stay with Shoshanna and keep her safe. I had an ambiguously sexed suspect to chase.

I was seconds behind Pat and saw her speed-walk down the hall and turn to the left. Girl. I’d just think of her as a freakin’ girl . . . Hauling ass, I avoided the meandering crowds as much as possible. The damned thigh-high stiletto boots I wore were making the chase somewhat difficult, but I’d dealt with worse. Like the time I’d taken a knife to the thigh and had to run a mile to the pick-up point. Now that sucked.

Pat slipped into a door marked cleaning closet. I had her. Her ass was mine. Opening the door, I found her standing there with a mop in one hand and a squeegee in the other. She was trembling and her eyes were wild.

“Hi Pat.” I smiled and leaned back on the door, making her escape impossible.

“What do you want?” she snapped, shaking like a leaf and brandishing her mop like it was a sword.

“I think that’s my question, among a few others.”

“You will not get me fired, copper,” Pat shrieked, and made a mad dash for the door.

I put my left foot out and tripped her . . . him . . . it. As she went down, I gave her a swift undercut in the stomach, knocking the wind from her lungs. When she hit the floor, I dropped down and slammed my knee into her lower back, yanked her arms behind her, and bound her hands with the strap of my purse.

“That was really fucking stupid, Pat,” I said, giving the leather purse strap a little extra yank for good measure. “First of all, I’m not a fucking copper. I’m a cold-blooded DEA agent who enjoys shooting shit. You made me run in stilettos. I don’t appreciate that. I could have twisted my ankle and then I would have been really mad as opposed to just mad.”

“What’s your fucking problem?” Pat grunted, gasping for air.

“Apparently you are. Why’d you run?”

“Because.”

I waited for more but it didn’t come. “Wrong answer.” I pressed my knee into her spine and she screamed. I hoped no one was directly outside the closet. This would be kind of hard to explain.

“I’m not supposed to be here,” she choked out. “I called in sick and I don’t have any more sick days.”

“Right.”

“I swear,” she whined. “I could lose my job if you say anything. I need my job. I’m saving for transitional surgery.”

Still no clarity on her sex, dammit . . . Irrelevant. “Why were you at Shoshanna’s signing?”

“I wanted to get Junsen a signed book and plead Junsen’s case. She loves Shoshanna and I love Junsen. I thought maybe we could have a three-way relationship.”

Jesus, this was getting icky. “Let me get this straight. Junsen loves Shoshanna and burned bras on a football field to prove her dedication to her. You love Junsen so you’re going to get a signed book from Shoshanna, the woman Junsen loves, to prove your adoration to her and possibly begin a three-way.”

“Yes,” she hissed.

“And you called in sick and could lose your job . . .” It was so fucking stupid, it had to be true. “What do you know about the notes?”

“What notes?” Pat asked, bewildered.

“The threats on Shoshanna’s life.”

“What?” Pat grunted. “I know nothing. I’m a pacifist.”

“Could have fooled me with the mop and the squeegee thing you had going.”

“Look I have a rap sheet and I freaked,” Pat whimpered. “I’m just starting to get my life together and you could screw it up.”

“What did you do?”

“I ran a fake Viagra ring and sold to major pharmaceutical companies.”

“Holy shit, you’re Limp Dick Smith?” We’d been making jokes about that case for three years. Everything in my gut said Pat was not our man . . . or woman, but proof was necessary. “Do you have ID on you?”

“Yes, back pocket.”

I pulled out the wallet—a man’s wallet—and checked the ID. Pat Smith, age thirty-one, sex . . . scratched out with a pin or nail. WTF? I grabbed my phone and called it into Steve. After about a ten-minute wait, I had my answers. Pat was most definitely Jesse Limp Dick Smith. Her foray into a life of crime had made national news and been fodder for every late-night talk show for months. Pat, aka Jesse, had gotten off on a bizarre technicality that I couldn’t recall and had gone into the witness protection program because there were thousands of furious men that wanted her dead. But the real proof was Steve’s latest information. While I had my knee embedded in Pat’s spine a message had been left on Shoshanna’s bugged cell phone. A muffled woman’s voice had left a cryptic message—“Time is up.” The call had been too short to trace.

“Alrighty-roo,” I said. “I’m going to let you up. You’re leaving the convention and going back to Minneapolis tonight with some local law enforcement guys who will make sure you don’t come back.”

“Are you going to turn me in to the university?”

“No, I’m not, but you and Junsen need to get it through your heads that Shoshanna is straight.”

I loosened the purse straps and helped Pat up. On unstable feet, she extended her hand to me.

“What’s that for?” I asked, taking her hand and shaking it.

“For keeping my secret. You’re a tuff-ass mo-fo.”

“Thank you. You really are going to have to leave,” I said, feeling a little bad about her limp.

“I know. It was stupid for me to come in the first place. I just thought . . .”

“Look, go home and tell Junsen how you feel. You never know what might happen if you just lay it out there.”

“Yeah,” Pat said, rubbing the raw skin where the straps had been. “Maybe I will. Oh and Candy?”

“What?”

Pat inhaled deeply and blew it out slowly. “I was born a hermaphrodite. I’m saving up to become a woman. According to my therapist, the Viagra thing was payback because of my deep-rooted hatred toward men.”

“Okay . . . wow,” I muttered, unable to come up with anything more profound. “Can you get back to your room alone? Your escorts will be here in a half an hour.”

“Sure,” she said. “Will you call me when you get back to Minneapolis? I haven’t told many people my deal, and I think we could be friends.”

I didn’t know what to say. Part of me felt great and the other part was completely skeeved out. She waited, expecting rejection. Was she really that different from me? I lived a half-life too, telling no one what I really did or who I really was. I’d only recently found friends and I’d spent a good portion of my life with a vendetta. I was able to fulfill my anger on the right side of the law . . . Pat had fulfilled hers on the wrong side.

“Yes, I’ll call you. I’m new to the friend thing, so I don’t want anything too overwhelming or time consuming, but we could give it a shot.” I heaved a huge relieved sigh. I knew I had done the right thing when I saw her shy and grateful smile.

“Okay, I’ll catch you back in the Twin Cities.” She limped out of the cleaning closet and left. I took a brief moment to gather myself and headed back to Luke and Shoshanna. I eyed every woman I passed. Who in the hell was it? The lesbians needed to get here now.

R
ehearsal was a treat after the bizarre takedown in the cleaning closet. Luke was up to speed. He’d spoken briefly with Steve and I’d filled him in on the rest.

“Did you have fun?” he asked, grinning.

“Yeah, at first I did,” I said thoughtfully. “But then I felt bad and Pat asked me if I wanted to be friends and I realized I wasn’t that different from her and I told her as long as she didn’t take up too much time, I would try it out.”

“Wait. What?” He was totally confused. It did sound strange . . .

I shrugged my shoulders. “Too hard to explain.”

“All right, everyone strip and get on the stage. We have two days till the pageant and it’s a fucking mess,” Medusa Schmadden yelled.

Luke heaved a hellacious put-upon sigh and walked to the stage.

“Goddamn,” Shoshanna whispered, and shuddered. “This death threat stuff isn’t as fun as it was last week.”

“You’re going to stay in the room tomorrow. I have reservations about you being here right now, but the doors are locked and Luke and I are both here.”

“Well, hell,” she muttered. “I have a panel on fuzzy handcuffs versus metal tomorrow. I hate to disappoint my Street Walkers. Could I Skype in?”

I thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I’m okay with that.” It was a good compromise. She’d be safe and her fans would be happy. “We’ll just tell everyone you’re sick and need to stay in your room. I’ll speak with the coordinators and get monitors set up. Luke and I can set up the feed in the room.”

“Can Jim come up tomorrow? I want to work on his book with him.”

“I say yes, but I want to run it by Luke. His background check came up clean.”

“You guys checked him out?”

“Yep. I turned in a list of everyone we’ve been in contact with. Haven’t gotten all the information back yet, but Jim is good.”

“Teddy, if you don’t can the hip thrusts, I’m going to castrate you,” Medusa screamed.

Teddy threw his hair back and stomped off the stage. He stood in a corner and pouted.

“Son of a bitch,” she groused, and pulled on her hair, which was looking a bit thinner. “Everyone take five.” She made her way over to the devastated Teddy with Rocky close on her heels.

“
Mom,
you do realize I will make you pay for this for the rest of your natural life,” Luke said as he flipped the chair next to me around and straddled it. Shoshanna grinned and blew him a kiss. He was in his freakin’ underpants and still managed to have the upper hand. Jim and the twins, Cheech and Cesar, joined us. I was in the middle of a men’s underwear ad come to life.

“Cheech and Cesar,” Shoshanna said, pinching their cheeks. “How are you enjoying your first American Romance convention?”

“Isss okay,” Cheech muttered sullenly. “That faggot Teddy is pussy. I will beat him and then I will beat him.”

We all sat in shocked silence for a moment and wondered if he was joking.

“I am making the kidding!” he shouted, laughing and offering his hand up for a high five to Jim. Jim gave him a half-assed slap, and we all chuckled uncomfortably.

“My brother’s understanding of the English language needs some work along with his sense of humor,” Cesar said sheepishly in perfect English. “We are used to being the stars. We always win everything we do. We are . . . how do you say it? Um, unused to being challenged.”

“This be no challenge,” Cheech boasted. “No offense to you”—he nodded to Luke and Jim—“but we are the best and we will have the win of what we came here to do and make our families and country proud.”

“You’re gonna do just great.” Shoshanna patted him on the head. “This is all good fun and the exposure you’ll get will help you launch a career right here in the good ole U.S. of A.”

“Actually,” Cheech said, leaning in and coming dangerously close to my boobs, “ my dream is to be the next Pat Sajack. I love the Wheel of the Fortune and I will have relations with the Vanna White.”

Again with the shocked silence . . . However, there was no uproarious laughter this time. He was serious. Cesar kept talking as if what his twin had just said made complete sense.

“Yes, Cheech will be a TV star and I will be on
Top Chef
. I will win and open up a chain of restaurants and be very rich and famous.”

“Oh my, what do you cook?” Shoshanna asked. Was she trying to be polite or was she really interested? I was beginning to doubt the sanity of the twins, and my estimation of their intelligence was taking a steep nosedive. Not to mention their time was limited if they didn’t stop ogling my rubber-encased boobs. Luke’s displeasure was quite obvious to everyone except the brothers.

“I am taking lessons now. It is not hard and I have confidence I will succeed.”

Jesus, they were idiots. Conceited dumbasses. Lovely.

“Hey you,” Cheech said to me, clearly oblivious to the steaming Luke. “Why don’t you and me go at the bar and get the drinks together?” He waggled his eyebrows and pointed at his crotch. They had gone from being hot and sexy to being stupid and pervy.

“Thanks, but no.”

“Why not?” he demanded. “I will show you the good time better than the boring American mans.”

“She’s married.” Luke cut him off in a clipped tone. “Back off or her husband will kick your ass.”

“I don’t see no husband,” Cheech said, confused and surprised.

“I’m her fucking husband,” Luke snapped. “So stop looking at her and talking to her. And if you so much as lay a hand on her, I will remove it.”

“Okay, gringo.” Cheech laughed and backed away. “No problemo.”

“Come on,” Cesar said, slapping his brother in the back of the head. “Sorry about that. You might find it hard to believe, but he has a hard time making friends . . .” He grinned and walked away with his utterly confused brother.

“I have the friends,” Cheech hissed at his brother as they crossed back to the stage.

“Right, my brother. Sure you do.”

“What the fuck?” I whispered to my little group. “That Cheech is as dumb as a box of hair. Cesar seems kind of okay, but oh my God.”

“I’m gonna have to shoot him,” Luke said.

“Is that your solution to everything?” I asked, shaking my head in disbelief.

“Do you have a better one?”

“Well yeah, I . . . um . . . No. I don’t, but you can’t go around shooting people for looking at me. It’s immature and just doesn’t bode well for the future.”

“So . . .” Luke grinned and crossed his gorgeous arms over his stupidly perfect chest. “You’re admitting we have a future.”

“I’m admitting nothing,” I huffed. I hated being backed into a corner. “I’m just saying you can’t shoot anyone unless they’re breaking the law or trying to kill you.”

“Wait. I’m confused. Are you guys married or not?” Jim asked.

“Not,” we said in unison and then Luke added, “yet.”

“Okay,” Jim said, and laughed. “And your hobby is shooting people?”

I realized that Jim had no clue who we really were or what we really did. I was halfway tempted to tell him, but Luke shot me a quick look. Luke was right. Shoshanna was safer if we kept our cover. There would be time to tell Jim who and what we were later. I hoped.

“Duke’s just screwing around,” Shoshanna chimed in, saving us from having to make up a joint lie that matched. Luke rolled his eyes and mouthed,
No, I’m not,
when Jim was turned away.

“All right, people,” Medusa shouted. “Teddy is feeling better and we need to get something done before the girls show up.”

“What girls?” I asked Shoshanna. “Nobody said anything about girls.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot that part. They bring in some female cover models and they dance with the guys during the show.” She leaned in and chuckled. “Last year that got a little out of hand. I thought the convention organizers banned it. Those gals were fucking wild.”

I did not like the way I was feeling. I hated it. Some super sexy slut bag was going to come in here and rub all over my guy while he was in his underpants? Wait. He wasn’t my guy . . . well, he could be, but was I really ready to commit to him after a week? I suppose if I counted all the times we’d had sex, I could add two more weeks to it, but that was technically cheating. I didn’t even know his freakin’ name until last week. Although, he knew my name all along and had stalked me for the better part of a year . . . I could count the two weeks of sex as one since it was somewhat anonymous . . . Fine. We’d been together two weeks. That did not merit losing my mind and shooting unsuspecting women no matter how slutty they were. I definitely wouldn’t shoot them. I felt better.

A loud banging on the door ended my ridiculous inner monologue. Medusa sprinted across the room and opened it. Palming my gun, I got in front of Shoshanna.

“Sweet baby Jesus on a unicycle, here they come,” Shoshanna groaned.

Through the door came a bevy of large-breasted, overly made up, scantily clad gorgeous women. I had a decision to make . . . to shoot or not to shoot. Not. I would not shoot innocent hooker women even though they made a beeline to Luke and began pawing him.

“Ladies,” Medusa shrieked, pulling another clump of hair from her head. “There were supposed to be six of you. I only count five.”

“Elle ate dinner so she couldn’t come,” squeaked a brunette with a voice that could attract dogs from five miles away.

“What in the hell does that mean?” I muttered.

Shoshanna mimed sticking a finger down her throat and raised her eyebrows.

“Gross.”

“And sad,” she commented. “I hate that women buy into the whole media circus of how they should look. It’s a sorry place to be if you adhere to that bullshit.”

I nodded my head and watched as the nightmare unfolded. Luke, to his benefit, was removing the women from his person. This did not seem to stop them. I found myself reaching for my gun and quickly pulled my hand back.

“What am I supposed to do?” Medusa moaned. “Whatever. Ladies, pick a guy and let’s get started. Maybe Elle will show up.”

“Not gonna happen,” quipped a blonde in a gold lamé string bikini. “She ate a burger, fries, and an extra-large chocolate milk shake. That will take at least two days.”

The girls tittered and all headed for Luke and Jim. I felt itchy and pissed. This was not working for me—at all.

“You okay?” Shoshanna asked with a knowing smile on her face.

“No, but I’m about to do something really fucking stupid to make it better.”

“You gonna shoot somebody?”

“Nope, something even dumber than that.” I sucked in an enormous breath, pinched my cheeks, and adjusted my boobs. They might not be as big as the ones on the stage, but at least they were real. “I’ll do it,” I yelled, and immediately regretted my impulsiveness.

Luke’s head jerked up and his grin made me want to slap him and then strip him. My insides were in hell. A full halftime marching band doing a heavy metal medley had taken up residence in my stomach and I thought I was going to hurl.

“Great,” Medusa said, taking her hand from her hair for the first time since the rehearsal had started. “Get up here and pick a guy.”

“I will be your partner of the guy,” Cheech said, proving his worth with a gyration that made me choke on my tongue.

“Absolutely not,” Teddy cut in, and produced his own gag-inducing hip thrust. “She has a lovely bosom and a mouth like a vacuum. I shall partner her.”

“What are we? Chopped liver?” the one with the squeaky voice whined as her hand moved dangerously close to Luke’s ass.

“I’m flattered that you all would like me to partner with you, but I’ll stick with my husband.” I walked over to Luke and knocked Squeaky’s hand away. “If you put any part of your body on him again, I’ll shoot it off,” I told her under my breath. She blanched and moved quickly to the other side of the stage.

“Nice move,” Luke said, and palmed my butt.

“I am so mad at you right now,” I hissed.

“What the hell did I do?” He laughed and tried to put his arms around me.

“You,” I ground out, and slipped from under his arm, “were standing up here in your underpants with women pawing all over you. Because of you, I almost shot five women dead. That is unacceptable. You are such a dick.”

“Oh my God, you’re blaming me because I was standing here doing nothing—actually I was trying to peel them off—and somehow it’s my fault that you wanted to shoot them?”

I thought about it for a moment. “Yep. That’s right.”

He grinned and pulled me close. “Goddamn that’s hot. And I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but you called me your husband. That means we’re engaged.”

“How in the hell did you come to that conclusion? I was just going along with the lie you already told. It means nothing, so don’t read into it, big guy.”

Luke’s grin practically split his face. I could deny and deny until I was blue in the face. As far as he was concerned, we were now engaged . . . my brother was going to be thrilled. I tried to tamp down the smile that was pulling at my lips, but failed. He grabbed me in a bear hug and pressed his lips to my ear.

“You are so into me,” he whispered.

I rolled my eyes and let my body relax into his. Honestly, what was the point of even fighting him anymore? We both knew that eventually he would win . . . and that I wanted him to.

“Let’s begin. Ladies, bend over and touch your toes. Men do a little sexy bump and grind,” Medusa bellowed, and turned the techno pop up to an ear-shattering decibel. From there on out it was a clusterfuck of epic proportions . . .

Luke got an erection from bumping and grinding me, so he plastered his front to my back and refused to move. Teddy and Rocky decided to ignore the girls and twerked with each other. I tried to keep my eyes averted, but it was like a train wreck—I had to watch. Cheech and Cesar circled their partners, doing what appeared to be a tribal sex dance complete with grunting sound effects. They humped the air with such intensity they were dripping with sweat and sprayed the appalled women with their effort. I was sure they’d collapse from sheer exhaustion. Jim was in hell. His gal pal was trying to strip him and he was hanging on to his underpants for dear life. I realized I could never un-see any of this. It would be burned into my brain for eternity . . . Again, I wondered who I’d fucked over in a past life to deserve this torture.