Page 46 of License to Kill

“Mom’s going to need new towels.”

“Was there a reason you ignored the paper towels under the sink?”

“If she liked her towels, she wouldn’t have bitten Karma.”

“First, you run her gold-rimmed china through the dishwasher. Then you microwaved her favorite color-changing mug. Now you’re targeting her towels? You have a death wish, son.”

“Just wait until she finds out what I did to the blender,” Jake muttered.

“James Thomas, what did you do to your mother’s blender?”

“I just needed to blend something.”

“What did you need to blend?”

“Old razors. They were in the way. They fit better in the garbage after being pureed.”

Jake’s father sighed. “I’ll get the kit. Try not to destroy anything else in the house, please.”

I didn’t peek through my eyelashes until Jake sat on the couch. “Why would you puree old razors?”

“I was protesting that they’d locked you in the basement. For every day they refused to let you out, I ‘accidentally’ broke something. How was I to know her color-changing mugs would lose their color-changing properties if run through the microwave a couple of times? They don’t react well to being run through the dishwasher, either.”

“What’s the point of having a mug that can’t be put in the microwave?”

Jake wrapped his arms around me and held me tight enough I squeaked. “That’s what I said. I thought I was doing her a favor by making them easier to clean.”

“And the china?”

“Obviously no one has used the microwave yet today, as I discovered if you microwave a set of gold-rimmed mugs, they will spark and break the microwave. Also, I can confirm lemon-based cleaners and colored dish towels will stain fine china. I also ran the silver through the dishwasher multiple times.”

“She’s going to kill you,” I predicted. I wasn’t sure what I thought about that, which only added to my confusion. I was supposed to be so angry I wanted nothing to do with him, not cradled on his lap while waiting for his father to poke holes in my arm and stitch me back together again.

The Thomas family was not good for my health.

“James Thomas!” Jake’s mother shrieked. “What did you do to my towels?”

Jake opened his mouth.

I hissed, “If you pun my name, I punch you in the kidney and rip your intestines out of your big toe.”

Jake closed his mouth.

While I waited, I contemplated escaping Jake’s hold on me; his grip was firm enough I would have to put some serious effort into it. It had been a long time since he’d shown any signs of being protective at all, and I couldn’t bring myself to end it.

“She looks like she has lost the will to live.” Jake’s father strolled into his office carrying a tackle box in one hand and a metal tray in the other. “What have you done to the woman now?”

“Nothing!”

“Did she struggle to escape and you refused to let her go?”

“No.”

“Karma?”

“You know those electric knife sharpeners, Jake?”

“What about them?”