In Deep Shitake (A Humorous Romantic Suspense) (9 page)

“You should also know that
Sharlene
spends a lot of time at a strip club across the river called
Hoochie
Mama’s House. Last week,
Sharlene
participated in an amateur drag queen contest there.” Mo wished she’d accepted the tea. A cup to fiddle with would be a useful occupation for her hands about now. She never knew what to do while the client had hysterics.

The doorbell chimed. Mrs. Nelson continued sobbing and ignored the visitor at the door. More chimes sounded. The fluctuation of the high and low notes quickened.

Mrs. Nelson glanced up, her eyes red and puffy as she continued to blubber unintelligibly. The doorbell chimed again, even more insistently. At the sound, Mrs. Nelson’s frenzy increased.

“Why won’t they leave me alone?” She cried.

Mo stood awkwardly. “I’ll go answer the door. They can come back some other time.”

Mrs. Nelson nodded before her head dropped down, resting her forehead on the table.

The crying sound faded as Mo walked from the kitchen, down the hall and to the door. The tormenting bell song continued as if someone was leaning on the button. What kind of cheese head kept ringing like that? She grasped the handle to draw the door open and found her answer on the other side. Ross Grant stood on the threshold.

After a momentary visceral reaction to his gorgeousness, Mo remembered he'd tried to ruin her life and anger made her cheeks hot.

“You!” Mo demanded. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m happy to see you too.” He pushed past her and then strode down the hall. “I’m sorry about your position by the way,” he called over his shoulder.

“My what?”

“Your job.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” she drawled. “I wasn’t really fired.”

“I know. That’s why I’m sorry."

“Listen, you can’t just barge in here like this.” When he walked three quarters of the way down the hall, Mo grabbed his arm to pull him to a stop.

He faced her. “I’m already in and I’m not leaving until I talk to the client who hired you to break into my car.”

“I’m here meeting with another client," Mo said, standing with hands on hips. "I don’t know why the agency’s receptionist assigned me to break into your car. I already told you that. This client has nothing to do with your car.”

“Of course. I’ll just go, right?” His tone oozed sarcasm. Ross drew away from her and then continued down the hall. When he reached the kitchen, he halted in front of the table to stare at the weeping Jessica Nelson. “Bugger. You were telling the truth."

“No shitake, Sherlock. Brilliant deduction. No wonder you’re a super spy.”

Mrs. Nelson’s head snapped up. She straightened, her eyes wide. “You’re Stephen Dagger.” She swiped at the tears on her cheeks.

“Um.” Ross cast a pleading look toward Mo.

“Stephen Dagger, aka Ross Grant, this is Jessica Nelson. Mrs. Nelson owns the house you just invaded,” Mo said.

Mrs. Nelson jumped out of the chair before coming around the table. She grasped Ross’s hand in hers and gave it a vigorous shake.

“It’s wonderful to meet you.
SpyMatrix
was my favorite movie of all time. Could I have a kiss?” Without waiting for his reply, Mrs. Nelson rose on tiptoe to plant a smooch directly on his lips. She pulled back, giggling. “Oh my, I can’t believe you’re here. Wait until I tell my husband.” More giggles erupted from her.

Mo couldn’t believe it either. Incredibly, the excitement of a celebrity appearance had canceled out the trauma of her husband’s cross-dressing. Unnoticed by Mrs. Nelson and Ross, Mo turned off the computer and replaced it in its carrier.

“You were so sexy. Macho and strong, but vulnerable and emotional too." Mrs. Nelson still held Ross by the hand and arm as she babbled. "And when you said to Francesca, ‘
You
’re my air. I can’t breathe without you,’ I cried.”

“Yeah, right,” Mo muttered. “No man in the real world would say something like that unless he was trying to get some
nookie
.” Mo's comment earned a glare from Ross.

“Stephen Dagger would. He was a gentleman,” Mrs. Nelson said.

“You’re sweet, but I—” Ross tried to draw away and Mrs. Nelson pulled him back.

“I named my daughter after you.”

“You named your daughter Ross?” The actor seemed as perplexed as Mo.

“Ross? Why would it be Ross?” Mrs. Nelson’s brow furrowed with confusion. “I wouldn’t name my daughter Ross.”

“Oh, I see. Your daughter’s name is Stephen,” Ross said.

Mrs. Nelson giggled. “No
silly
. Stephanie.”

“I’ve got to be going.” Mo could stand no more.

“Yeah, you run along now.” Mrs. Nelson’s eyes never wavered from Ross.

“I’m coming—” the actor began with desperation.

“It would be wonderful if you could sign an autograph for me,” Mrs. Nelson interrupted.

Mo strode to the door. With any luck, she would be in her car before Ross could escape poor Mrs. Nelson.

“
Oooooo
,” Mo heard the woman squeal as she exited. “You know what would be perfect?
If you could sign one of those posters.
You know the one where you’re holding the big gun? I just loved that gun, it was so—”

Mo shut the door. She almost felt sorry for the poor guy…until she saw that his Mercedes had blocked her Mini in the Nelson’s driveway.

She heard an engine start nearby and glanced up. Half a block away sat a rusted rattletrap of a compact car, which had faded to a pale red color. A massive black SUV, with heavily tinted windows, idled behind the
rustmobile
. Then the SUV’s engine revved.

Turning back to her dilemma, Mo moved to stand near the driver’s side of the Mercedes to evaluate whether she would be able to maneuver her car around Ross’s without hitting the mailbox planted at the curb.

Before she could decide, the sound of tires squealing across the pavement came from behind her.

The sound startled Mo since this neighborhood wasn’t the type where you would expect teenagers to be drag racing. She glanced back in time to see the SUV careening down the street in her direction. The vehicle mowed down the Nelson mailbox. The American flag that had been mounted in a pole holder attached to the mailbox post flew through the air like a spear as the SUV barreled across the lawn.

Mo's heart raced but her legs seemed set in concrete.

That car is
gonna
hit me. I’m
gonna
die
, Mo thought.
Move Mo, move you idiot. Why are you standing here waiting to be hit?
Still, the only movement Mo seemed capable of was to squeeze her eyes shut and wait for the impact.

No blow came. She opened one eye and then the other. The SUV had stopped less than an inch away. The door of the SUV flew open and then a man emerged. Although gargantuan in height and girth, he moved with agility.

Adrenaline took over. Finally getting her legs to work, Mo whirled and ran back in the direction of the Nelson house. But she only made it a few steps before the SUV driver grabbed her. His hands were the size of dinner plates and bands of white sprang up on the skin of her forearms around his sausage like fingers.

Her head snapped back with the force of the motion as he pulled her to him.

“Hey, funnel cake, let go,” Mo screamed as she twisted against his grip.

“Where is he?”
Gigantor
demanded in a heavily accented voice.

She knew she should feel fear—and she did—but the rage overwhelmed any other emotion in her brain. Mo twisted both arms under and then out, breaking one free from his grasp. She clawed at the thug. Exultation rose like dough when blood sprang from the ragged scratches she made on his hand.

In response,
Gigantor
released her other hand.
Ah ha. Sweet success
.

But before she could spring out of reach, he grabbed her around the middle in a violent parody of an embrace. Her ribs compressed, forcing Mo to struggle to drag in a breath. Not what she hoped for when she was in a man’s
arms.
Not even close. She wanted to be breathless with love… or at least lust. Not breathless with cracked ribs.

“Where it is?” he asked.

“I. Have. To. Breathe. To. Talk.” She barely managed to gasp each word out.

His grip loosened…slightly.

Someone screamed in a high-pitched, screeching wail that hurt Mo’s ears. Oh wait. She was the one screaming. Well, if she
was
going to lose her hearing, in addition to her breakfast, at least the noise would deafen
Gigantor
also. Perhaps some stray dog would hear her yowling and come to the rescue.

“Stop,” he roared. “You hurt ears. Just tell where is?”

Mo struggled against his restraining hands.

Why hadn't she thought to take her gun out of the car trunk?
Because she didn't think she'd need it for a meeting about a cross-dressing husband, she answered herself. She never seemed to have her gun when she needed it.

Gigantor
released one mallet shaped hand, and then drew it back, before slapping her across the cheekbone. The metallic taste of blood on her lips turned rage to hopeless fear as he began to drag her by one arm toward the open door of his SUV.

Mo had always been confident—foolishly confident it seemed—that she would be able to hold her own in a fight. She would not be pulled into a car against her will. She would never be the helpless victim of rape or murder, too weak to fight back. Mo closed her
eyes
.

You're strong, you're strong,
she
chanted to her self.

 “
Noooooo
,” she shrieked. She had one hand free but couldn't reach
Gigantor
. Since pulling back hadn’t worked, Mo decided to lunge
toward
her attacker. She surprised him with a kick to the back of one of his knees, causing a slight buckle.

The stranger growled something that sounded like “sucker” and he stopped. Mo’s relief was short-lived as he took her by both arms and shook her again. Mo found out that the old saying about seeing stars was true. She saw a whole constellation, and even a planet or two, in her head. He released her, making Mo fall to her knees. Her legs scraped against the grass as
Gigantor
dragged her again toward the SUV.

* * * * *

Ross was still trying to pry himself out of the clutches of his
biggest fan
when he heard the caterwaul from outside the house. He knew instinctively that wail emanated from Mo. Breaking away from a startled Jessica Nelson, Ross sprinted out the front door where he spotted a goliath hauling a half conscious Mo to a black SUV. The goliath was the blockhead from the square.

Mo’s brown eyes met his. “Help.
Gigantor’s
kidnapping me.”

A band of fear cinched around Ross chest.
Would he be able to reach Mo before the thug forced her into the vehicle?

Blood trickled from the corner of Imogene’s mouth. Black rage exploded through his body, replacing fear.
Gigantor
had hit Mo.

Without thinking about any consequences for his actions, Ross sprinted toward them.
Gigantor
was focused so intently on his mission with Mo he didn't notice Ross at first. Acting on pure instinct, Ross’s fist slammed into
Gigantor’s
nose. Blood gushed forth from the blow.
Gigantor’s
hands flew up to grasp his face, leaving Mo to fall like a rag doll to the ground.