Cop a Feel (Handcuffs and Happily Ever Afters) (19 page)

“Enough!” Medusa shrieked, practically in tears. She turned off the music and pulled on her hair. “That was hideous. If I had eaten dinner, I would have thrown it up from watching that horrifying display.”

I actually had to agree with her.

“What is the matter of the problem?” Cheech demanded, truly confused. “I was in the zone and the womens were digging the sexiness of my crotch moves.”

“Is he for fucking real?” Squeaky asked. “That was disgusting,” she hissed, grabbing her friends and making a beeline for the exit. I quickly followed and locked the door after them. Luke dropped to a squat on the stage to mask Mr. Happy in his pants.

“Let’s just call it a night,” Medusa said wearily.

“I have an idea,” Shoshanna, never one to let well enough alone, volunteered. She ran up on stage, dragging me with her. “Mandy, you stand in the middle and freeze like you’re a mannequin. Boys, pretend you got locked in a department store overnight and you find the most beautiful woman in the world, but she’s frozen—a block of perfect ice. The only thing that will unfreeze her is a display of your love for her. One at a time, you will fucking go for it . . . But, you can’t touch her.” She winked at her son, who gave her a thumbs-up. “Duke will go last and he will wake her from her slumber and they will live happily ever after.”

“What?” Teddy gasped. “I will be the one to wake her. I have the longest hair.”

“No,” Cheech insisted. “I will do the wake of her. I have the package that is huge.”

All the other men laughed derisively.

“I do,” he shouted. “I will show to you the package of the winner.”

“No,” Shoshanna yelled, startling him enough to halt the display of his weenie.
Thank God.
“You know the rules. You can’t expose your penis. Ever. You will be disqualified and shame your country. You don’t want to embarrass Mexico, do you?”

“No.” Cheech hung his head and let go of the waistband of his underpants.

“I get to wake her because I’m her husband,” Luke informed the models. “And if anyone has a problem with that, we can go out back and take care of it.”

“I actually love that idea,” Medusa said, getting excited. “It’s brilliant and we’ve never done such high concept before. This could be award winning,” she muttered, pulling me to the middle of the stage.

This was going to be frightening, but infinitely better than twerking with my fake husband. I simply had to stand there and do nothing—I could do that. The guys all seemed to be fine with the change, especially Jim, who would not have to fight to stay clothed. As long as no one touched me, Luke wouldn’t have to shoot anyone and now that the gals were gone, my trigger finger was less itchy. Win-win.

“Great,” Shoshanna said. “Let’s work!”

“All right, everyone,” Medusa sang, giving Shoshanna a quick and heartfelt hug. “You heard the lady. Let’s work!”

I
woke up the next morning sore. Not from anything fun like sex. Nope, I was sore from having held my mannequin pose for two hours while Medusa and Shoshanna created a masterpiece. I had to admit it was far more interesting than the twerk-fest that had been emerging as the show’s centerpiece. In the new and improved version, the guys got to strut their stuff and Luke just had to walk up at the end and kiss me silly. Worked for me.

I’d slept alone. Luke slept, or rather kept guard, across the hall. Secretly I’d hoped he would push the issue and screw me blind, but he didn’t. He was right—we were working. It did occur to me that he might be waiting for me to make the next move. He’d have to wait. We had a potential killer to catch, and completing our mission sooner rather than later was imperative.

Mrs. C and Edith were expected around lunchtime. Shoshanna would Skype from the room and Luke approved Jim working with Shoshanna later in the day. She was safe for the moment.

“Are you going to case the new protesters?” Luke asked, delivering coffee and doughnuts to the suite. I glanced at the offering, sad that he had forgotten my Coke. “Why the long face?” he asked, grinning as he pulled an icy bottle of Coke from the bag I’d missed. “Did you think I forgot?”

“Um, yes . . . actually,” I answered, embarrassed on several levels. There was no reason he should remember every little thing about me. I didn’t want him to, but at the same time I did. I was starting to notice and remember all sorts of wonderful and frightening things about him. The lack of lifting the toilet seat was alarming, but he did have excellent aim. He smiled easily and when he was really happy, he hummed quietly. He carried his past in his eyes and from time to time, I saw raw pain and anger there. Shoshanna seemed to calm him—almost as if she knew. Hell, maybe she knew more than I did. If I was being totally honest and completely conceited . . . I knew I made him happy. The further I relaxed into the inevitable direction of our future, the more relaxed he became. Surprisingly, I did too.

“Do you guys want to demonstrate the fuzzies versus metal for me and the Street Walkers?” Shoshanna asked as she stuffed almost an entire doughnut into her little mouth.

“No,” I said, relieved I had a real excuse. “I have to go do a meet-and-greet with the new Jesus-lovin’ porno protesters. I’m sure Luke would be delighted to help you out.”

He flipped me off and sipped his coffee. God, he looked gorgeous in his ripped jeans and T-shirt. “Actually,” he said, changing his mind and smirking evilly. “That’s not out of the realm of possibility. I could do imitations of all the amazing sounds you make when you’re cuffed to the bed.”

“Great,” Shoshanna tried to say. However, her mouth was full and it sounded more like, Gwaurt . . .

“I’m out of here,” I informed my posse. “I’ll call if I need you.”

“Do you have the pen and Bible?” he asked.

I held up the items in question and tucked them back into my purse next to my gun. “Got them. And thank you. I’ve never used one of these babies yet.”

“Youb neber used a Blobble?” Shoshanna choked out through the mass of dough in her mouth.

“Not the Bible,” Luke corrected a relieved Shoshanna. “A camera pen. State of the art and hot off the assembly line. It also has laser ability. You can take a photo while you zap your perp.”

Clapping my hands with delight, I tackled Luke in a hug. No one ever got me cool stuff like he did. No one. “I am so excited to have one of these. It’s almost as good as a new gun,” I gushed, showing Shoshanna my new beloved toy.

“You two are something else.” She swallowed and then laughed. “You’re more thrilled that he got you a fucking pen than if he got you a diamond ring.”

That silenced both of us. I was frozen in uncomfortable shock and Luke was contemplative. He wouldn’t dare. That would screw up everything. Shoshanna, as much as I had grown to love her, was opening a can of shit-storm.

“I wouldn’t want a ring unless it shot bullets out of it,” I said flippantly, avoiding any in-depth conversation on things that scared the hell out of me.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what they all say.” Shoshanna chuckled and then shoved another doughnut into her mouth.

I decided to get the hell out while her ability to speak was hindered by her healthy breakfast. No telling where she would go next. “I’m outta here. I’ll see you guys in an hour or so.”

The protesters had doubled their numbers, but not their intelligence level. I was evangelized by numerous offensive do-gooders. It was helpful to learn that fornication sent unmarried women straight to hell. I was curious if it did the same thing to men, but didn’t really want to engage. Masturbation caused blindness and hairy palms in males and hair loss, stunted growth, and webbed feet in women. The information apparently came straight from scripture. My knowledge of the Bible was somewhat limited, but even I knew they were on crack.

I asked a few of the most hardcore female protesters to sign my Bible. Since we had nowhere to start, I figured taking pictures of the biggest haters couldn’t hurt. Each time I had my fancy new pen out, I randomly swung it around and took pictures from behind me and to my sides. I’d download my findings into the computer later and see if anything caught my eye.

Pass after pass and I saw no one familiar. Even though I knew Pat had gone home and I was secure that she had told me the truth, I still looked for her and Junsen. Would I ever get past my distrust issues? Did I want to? Wasn’t that what made me a good agent? Shit, I was thinking far too much. I shut down that part of my brain and continued to watch for suspicious women. I took copious numbers of pictures with my toy. Playing with new gadgets was delightful and I took full advantage, taking more pictures of
God’s Chosen Ones
than was necessary. Some I took in movement and some still. I turned the pen at all different angles and held it upside down too. I’d read the quality was outstanding and could capture clear images even while an operative was running or driving. Running would make me stand out too much, but I was dying to try.

“Would you like to join in our crusade?” a mousey woman with a J
ESUS FOR
P
RESIDENT
T-shirt inquired.

“No, thank you. I’m just getting some exercise.”

“Well, if you change your mind, we will be here for you. You look like too nice a girl to be involved with the hell-smut inside that hotel.” She smiled and raised her hands in prayer.

Why did I want to deck her? Was it her closed and judgmental mind or was it her sub-par intelligence? The people inside that hotel were there because they enjoyed reading sexy romance. So what? Yes, some of them participated in the BDSM lifestyle, but from everything I’d gathered and witnessed, it was consensual and safe and hurt no one. They weren’t burning Bibles and judging the idiots outside. The attendees hadn’t spoken about the protesters except to say they felt sorry for them.

I knew for a fact that Shoshanna and several of the other big authors funded charities and did more good for less fortunate people than probably all of these God-fearing Christians had ever done. Shoshanna spoke openly for women’s rights and I knew she was a large contributor to Kristy’s women’s shelter.

The people inside the hotel were not corrupting children, having group orgies, or compromising animals. They were having a great time . . . making new friends, greeting old ones, and standing in lines for hours to get autographs from their favorite authors. Most appeared happily married and they’d chosen a safe and nonjudgmental place to gather and celebrate their kink. It was a free country, but I would think Christians could find something a little more constructive to do with their precious time.

These people reminded me of Helen, Steve’s zealot of an ex-wife. All holier than thou to the world, but as mean as a snake in private. Only truly concerned with themselves and their own needs. Who in their right mind would poison their children against a loving and wonderful father? Helen’s facade was impressive, but her insides were rotten.

I knew my anger at Helen was behind my need to put the mousey gal in her place, but I didn’t care. At all. “Does your group do anything for the poor?” I asked the gal in the J
ESUS FOR
P
RESIDENT
T-shirt who was clearly unaware that there was supposed to be a separation of church and state in our country.

“Of course,” she answered indignantly. “We show them the way of the Lord.”

“Do you feed them or educate them or help them get out of abusive situations?” I asked. “Do you build homes or teach them about bullying or nutrition for their children or do drug intervention? Do you actually do any of the things Jesus would do if he were here?”

“Well, I um . . . we offer baptism,” she added triumphantly. “Jesus baptized hundreds of millions of evil Jews.”

“Um, actually Jesus was a Jew,” I informed her. “He was. I promise you. And get this, he didn’t pass judgment on Mary Magdalene, and she was a hooker. I really think you might find something more Christian-like to do with your time. Don’t you?”

Mousey gal turned and ran. I was sure she was going to get a big-time Jesus lover to come back and put my heathen ass in place. As much as I was jonesing for a good fight, verbal or physical, I knew it wouldn’t help the job I was supposed to do. Shit. I never got to have fun. I quickly and quietly made my way back to the hotel before I did something I’d love in the moment and regret terribly later.

“I
t was awesome,” Shoshanna squealed. “Luke let me cuff him on camera and then he told stories—detailed stories about using cuffs safely while in sexual situations. He did the most amazing impressions of you. You have quite the vocabulary, young lady. I would hope when you give birth to my grandkids, you’ll clean up that filthy mouth.”

My stomach dropped to my feet and I felt my skin heat up. He did not do that . . . did he?

“I’m joking,” she said hurriedly before I could pull my gun out and shoot Luke. I wouldn’t shoot to kill, I’d just injure him real good.

“You were going to shoot me.” He laughed, grabbed me by the waist, and swung me around. “God, that’s hot,” he shouted.

“You think it’s hot that I was going to put a bullet in you?” I demanded, trying unsuccessfully to get away from him.

“I think it’s hot I get you so riled up that you feel the need to kill me occasionally.”

“I wouldn’t have killed you,” I muttered. “I just would have hurt you a little.”

“Well, Jesus Christ in assless leather chaps, that’s good to know,” Shoshanna grunted. “I just got a son; I’d hate to lose him so soon.”

Luke put me down and I adjusted my T-shirt, which had ridden up and exposed the matching bra to the panties he had stolen when he had left me high, dry, and frustrated a few days ago.

“I didn’t realize my prize had a matching partner,” he said, trying to lift my shirt again.

“Stop it.” I slapped his hand and ran behind the chair. “Shoshanna, tell your son to lay off or I’ll shoot him.” Of course, the grin on my face weakened my threat.

“You heard her, boy,” she said, enjoying the game. “You’ve been warned.”

“Fine.” He mockingly threw his hands in the air. “I know when I’ve been beat. So, back to business. Did you find anything interesting out there?”

“Interesting? Yes. Helpful? I don’t think so. I did take a ton of pictures. Do you know how to upload them from the pen?”

“Yep. Give me your laptop.”

I handed it over and he dismantled the top of the pen and inserted it into my computer. “It should come up in a few,” he said, watching the screen.

I glanced over his shoulder, still amazed by the technology. “Everything has been slow. I think everyone in the whole hotel has been on their computers at the same time.”

“It might take a while,” he agreed. “What time are the dykes coming?”

I checked my watch and shuddered. As much as we needed them, I still dreaded their arrival. “Any time now. They have our room number, so I assume they’ll come directly here with whatever information they have.”

“I just hope to God it’s something we can use,” Luke said, still watching the laptop screen.

“Me too,” Shoshanna said. “I mean, this is a nice room and all, but I want to be with my people.”

“Hopefully you will be, but until we get this solved, you’re staying in the room,” I told her, hoping she realized the gravity of the situation.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “I’m just glad Jim is coming soon. Gotta do something or I’ll go nuts.”

My cell buzzed and I saw it was Steve. “Hey, what’s up?”

“You guys in the room?” Steve asked, sounding exasperated.

“Yes. What’s wrong?”

“Hell if I know. Apparently Edith and Mrs. C are there, but there’s a problem.”

“Okay.” I shrugged my confusion to Luke and put Steve on speakerphone. “What’s the problem?”

“Fuck if I know,” he shouted. “Those pains in my ass won’t tell me. Their location is on the back south side of the hotel by some sort of gate. They want you to come down.”

“I’ll go,” Luke said, holstering his gun and pulling on a light jacket to cover it.

“They want both of you,” Steve groused. “I told them that was a no go. One of you had to stay with Shoshanna and they told me to . . . well, suffice it to say it was highly unpleasant what they told me to do, how to do it, and what to do it with.”

“I’ll be fine in the room alone,” Shoshanna said. “I’ll lock it up and I won’t let anyone in, not even these guys. They have a key and if they insist on having me open the door, I’ll know the bad guy is with them.”

“Holy shit, Mom. That was brilliant,” Luke said, hugging her.

“Did you just call Shoshanna, Mom?” a confused Steve asked.

“He did,” Shoshanna crowed. “It’s a long story, but a goddamned good one. I’ll tell you when we get back.”

“Fine. Tell the old ladies that another note came to Shoshanna’s house. We picked it up about thirty minutes ago. I’ve scanned it and e-mailed it to Candy’s computer.”

“The Internet is slow,” Luke told Steve. “Tell me what the salutation was.”

“Let me see,” Steve mumbled, rustling through papers. “Here it is. It says
Extreme Fool
. The rest of the letter is identical to the others.”

“I think the different greetings are the key.”

“Agreed,” Steve said. “The old bitches think the same thing. Now lock Shoshanna in, give her a weapon, and go find the troublemakers. I want this shit over. Today.”

“On it,” I said, and Steve hung up. I handed Shoshanna the pen. Even though the camera had been dismantled, the laser should still work. It was safer than leaving her with a gun that could be turned on her by someone who knew how to use it.

“You want me to draw on someone?” she asked.

“No.” I took a deep breath so I wouldn’t sound as stressed out as I truly was. “There’s a laser in the pen. If you depress the top, you can shoot someone. Make sure the writing end is pointed away from you, or you’ll shoot yourself.”

“Motherfucker, that would suck,” she said, examining the pen.

“It wouldn’t kill you, but it would knock you out cold and that is not anywhere in our plans,” Luke said, watching her figure out the pen.

“Can I try it?”

“No,” we both yelled in unison.

“It only carries enough charge for a few shots, so you will save them until you need them,” I explained, doubting my sanity at having given it to her.

“Which you won’t,” Luke added.

“I sure as hell hope not,” she muttered, still staring at the pen.

“This is such a bad idea.” I shook my head and began to pace.

“If I thought they’d come up with just one of us, I’d tell you to stay, but they’re fucking crazy,” Luke said, and handed me my purse.

He was right. There was a reason they wanted both of us, but it had better be good or I was going to kick their asses.

The fastest way to the meeting point was out the front door and through the throngs of protesters. I wanted to avoid the mousey gal at all costs. I was in the kind of mood that if she looked at me wrong, I’d take her out, and I simply didn’t have time for that at the moment.

“They better have a good reason for this,” I muttered as we zigzagged our way through the riled-up crowd.

“The atmosphere out here is turning hostile,” Luke observed as we made our way past the last of them.

“I noticed that. It wasn’t like that an hour ago. I wonder what’s going on.”

“We’ll figure that out after we get the nut jobs.”

As we rounded the corner, I gagged and Luke stopped short.

“What the fuck?” he said, and lifted his arm to protect his nose with his sleeve. “What is that smell?”

“God,” I gasped. “It smells like skunk.”

“It smells like a herd of skunk,” he choked out.

“You mean a surfeit,” I corrected him.

“A sure fit?”

“No, dumbass.” I giggled. “A group of skunks is called a surfeit.”

“And you know this because . . .”

“Jeopardy,”
I said, trying to breathe through my mouth. The odor was so heavy I could taste it. Breathing was losing its appeal. “Holy hell, they can’t possibly be out here in this.”

“We have to go to the checkpoint. If they’re not there and this is some kind of fucked-up joke, I’ll shoot them,” he informed me.

“I will too.”

He grinned happily and I grinned right back. “Plug your nose and let’s go.”

He took my hand and we walked into what smelled like the bowels of hell . . . and it was about to get worse.

Mrs. C and Edith stood about twenty feet away by the gate where we were supposed to meet them. They were pissed and they were soaking wet.

“If you hadn’t forgotten the goddamned SCREW-Con tickets, none of this would have happened, heifer,” Mrs. C hissed at Edith.

“You say one more word about that and I will choke you to death and enjoy it,” Edith shot back. “I wasn’t the one who stepped on a goddamned gaggle of skunks.”

“It wasn’t a gaggle,” Mrs. C said, walloping her sister. “It was one fucking skunk. And a group of skunks isn’t called a gaggle, it’s called a herd, jackass.”

“I call bullshit,” Edith yelled, diving at her sister and trying to choke her. Mrs. C sidestepped her and popped her in the back of the head as she went down.

“Bullshit that,” Mrs. C grunted, and kicked her sister in the butt for good measure.

“It’s called a surfeit,” I yelled with my nose plugged.

“What the hell?” Edith gasped, and rolled to a defensive crouch. Mrs. C pulled an Uzi and aimed it at us. Clearly, they hadn’t heard our approach. “Put the gun down, idiot,” she snapped at her sister. “You could have killed Mag the Hag and her concubine. That would have been quite the clusterfuck, considering you also forgot the fucking tickets,” she shrieked.

I stood patiently and waited for them to get it all out of their systems.

“Did she just call me your concubine?” Luke asked me.

“Um . . . yes.” I giggled. “I believe she did.”

The gals had about fifteen minutes of sister bitch fight left in them before they were able to pull themselves together sufficiently to hold a somewhat normal, albeit horrifically smelling, conversation. I’d never seen so many creative takedowns in my life. The old coots were extremely limber and if they’d been younger, I might have suggested they go out for Cirque du Soleil, but they were pushing seventy and they liked to kill people. Probably not a good fit.

“So Mag,” Edith wheezed, trying to catch her breath after being socked in the stomach with the butt of Mrs. C’s Uzi. “We have a little problem here.”

“That’s right,” Mrs. C added, breathing heavily. “Fuck-for-Brains forgot the tickets and we couldn’t get in. The hotel dick-wads thought we were with the religious ass-munchers protesting outside. We tried to explain nicely that they were mistaken, but . . .”

“But,” Edith cut her sister off, “my sister got impatient and called the little hotel turd-knocker a fucktard and they kicked us out.”

“Interesting,” Luke said with his fingers plugging his nose. “And the rest of the story . . . ?”

“Right.” Edith gave her sister the stink eye and kept going. Mrs. C flipped her off and began to make a show of sharpening her rather intimidating bowie knife. Lovely. “So, the fat cow here decided we should scale the building and crawl through your window.”

“You agreed to it, you stinky hooker,” Mrs. C snapped.

I truly thought Edith was going to self-combust. I’d never seen her so mad. “Yes,” she said steaming, “But I didn’t agree that we needed a quarter mile running start from the skunk-infested field behind the hotel.”

“You agreed if we got a good jump we’d stand a better chance of getting to the second-story ledge, smelly ass.”

“If you make one more odiferous comment, I will knock your head into your shoulders. Permanently.”

I glanced over at the building. There was no way they could have jumped to the second story. They were insane, they smelled like hell—and we had to work with them.

“Why are you wet?” Luke asked the question I was afraid to hear the answer to.

“Shit for brains”—Mrs. C pointed at her sister—“thought it would be a fine idea to wash the scent off in the hotel pool. I’m fairly sure the sirens you hear in the distance are a direct response to that assmonkey move.”

“Did you have a better idea?” Edith ground out through clenched teeth.

“Douche,” Luke said.

“What?” I laughed at his new name for the gals.

“Did you call me a douche?” Mrs. C demanded, brandishing her knife.

“No,” Luke said. “I didn’t call you a douche. I implied that you need to douche.”

“Well of all the . . .” Edith sputtered, picking up her Uzi and aiming at Luke’s head.

“He’s right,” I said, stepping in front of Luke out of habit. Luke chuckled and moved me to his side.

“Thank you for protecting me, light of my life, but I can handle it.” He walked over to Edith and put his hand out for her machine gun. She reluctantly handed it over. “Douche will remove the skunk smell. I’ll run to the drugstore and get some. You and your stench will remain outside with Candy until I get back.”

“Wait one goddamned minute, you’re telling me if we had dunked ourselves in douche instead of pool water, we wouldn’t smell like skunk ass?” Mrs. C asked.

“Close,” Luke told her. “You wouldn’t smell like wet skunk ass, which, by the way, is far worse than plain old skunk ass.”

I had to agree. My gag reflex was on overdrive.

“Well Jesus Christ, that’s the best news I’ve heard since we found out Candy here was Mag the Hag reincarnated,” Edith crowed, and went to hug Luke.

“No,” he yelled, backing away. “While I appreciate the sentiment, I’d probably hurl all over you and we certainly don’t need to add that to the mix.”

“Roger that,” Edith said, saluting him.

“I’ll just run to the store and . . .”

“No need. We have four cases of douche in the back of our van,” Mrs. C informed us.

I was speechless and Luke went pale. The burning question was why they had four cases of douche in their van, but neither one of us was willing or able to touch that one.

“I’ll be right back.” Edith sprinted in the direction of the field.

“Watch out for the fucking skunk,” Mrs. C called after her. “We parked under a tree just in case we had to make a quick getaway. Parking lots suck for that.”

I nodded mutely and Luke just stood there. I knew he was sill stuck in the mystery of the massive amounts of douche.

“It will never make sense,” I whispered to him. “Drop it or you might go insane.”

“Roger that,” he mumbled, still trying to let it go.