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Hunter’s tone goes serious instantly as he demands, “What? What did you do?”
“Not me, Poppy,” I reply, glancing into the rearview mirror. Poppy still looks like she’s pleased as punch about this whole thing. “She hit him over the head with the fucking statue.”
Hunter unexpectedly barks out laughter in my ear. “She does like to hit things, doesn’t she?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, ask her. It’s a funny story.”
I glare at her, and she smiles like nothing is wrong in the world, even though she just fucked up everything I’ve been working on for months. And almost got herself shot in the process!
“I’ve got Poppy and JP. Mr. Big says he’s been talking to the police.”
Hunter’s voice goes so hard I’m surprised he can unlock his jaw enough to answer me. “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” I tell him. “I’ll be in touch.”
I hang up and glance over at JP, who’s looking at me in confusion. He usually bosses me around, but planning is my job, down to the exit strategies. Even when they’re this fucked up.
Chapter 24
Poppy
Connor looks furious as he hangs up with Hunter.
I never thought ‘mad’ could be this sexy of a look. On Connor, or anyone, really. I thought it’d make him look scary. But instead, he looks like he could slay a dragon and then cook it over a bonfire for the whole town to feast on.
Maybe I can write that into my book somehow? Though it’s not a fantasy period piece, so a random dragon showing up might be a stretch. But maybe a town barbeque? Hero dude just standing at a grill, wearing a plaid apron and holding a spatula. That’s . . . not as sexy. Never mind, I think, scrubbing that idea off my mental possibilities list. But either way, all I want to do is rip that suit off and get me some Connor meat.
“Poppy.”
“Connor,” I return, still pleased with myself.
“Why does Hunter think you’re aggressive?” he asks, meeting my eye in the rearview mirror.
“Huh?” It takes me a second to leave behind my barbeque scenario and return to this one where Connor is gritting his teeth so hard, the muscle in his jaw is popping. “Oh, because I introduced him to Gary, up close and personal. Real personal. In my defense, it was absolutely warranted.”
Connor glances back at the road, his eyes tight. “When?”
“When he was at your house last night. I demanded to know where you were. He didn’t want to tell me at first, but with a little persuasion from Gary” —I hold up my thumb and finger an inch apart— “he was singing like a canary. Tweet, tweet! He told me where to find you, what the dress code was, and he gave me these cool glasses as a disguise.”
JP looks at Connor warily. “Who’s Gary?” When Connor doesn’t answer, he turns around to look at me as if he can’t decide which of us is the larger threat to his well-being. “Who’s Gary?”
“My golf club,” I tell him proudly. “He’s a three iron.”
Connor isn’t as amused, though. “Shit! I saw him this morning.” He slams a hand to the steering wheel. “That motherfucker played me. He was testing me by telling me to ditch you.”
“He what?” I screech, leaning forward over the seat to snatch Connor’s phone so I can redial Hunter. I’m going to give that guy a piece of my mind. “That asshole! I’ll kill him. Oops, maybe we shouldn’t discuss urder-may in front of the olice-pay informant-ay,” I tell Connor, tilting my head toward JP, who scoots a little closer to the door as if the extra inch or so might protect him.
Connor doesn’t stop me from grabbing his phone, and a few seconds later, I understand why as his phone stays locked. “It’s fingerprint, as well as swipe pattern, locked,” he growls. “And nobody is murdering anyone.”
“Well, not now, when you told him the plan.” I roll my eyes and flop back in the seat. “And fingerprint? Really? As your fiancée, I should have your code. It’s happy marriage rule 42. Or maybe 24? I forget, but it’s one of the big ones.” I’m totally making that up, but I’ve seen enough late-night TV to know that if your man is locking his phone, he’s got a side chick in his DMs, and I don’t share.
“I’m a criminal with a phone. It’s that or constant burners,” Connor points out. Looking over, he says, “JP . . . what the fuck?”
He sounds tired. Maybe today has been a long one for him, but I can help with that. Maybe after we figure out the JP issue, we can eat pizza in bed and relax. I can give him a massage and rub all that stress right out.
After that, he can rub my stress out too.
“I had to,” JP pleads with Connor.
