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“I didn’t expect it to be. You want a week in advance?”
“Yes, if I find what you’re looking for in two days, I’ll refund the difference.”
Stone signed the contract and then pulled a wad of cash from his pocket.
“I prefer a check or a direct deposit.”
“I don’t,” he said as he held out the cash, “I’m old school that way. I’m not much for phone conversations either. Whatever you find, you can tell me in person when I get back.”
“That’s fine with me,” Margot said as she took the money. She didn’t bother to count it before she put it in her purse between the mace and short-barreled Smith and Wesson.
“Since we’re no longer doing business, how about a drink?”
“Thanks, but I’m going to pass. I’m still on the clock.”
“Clock doesn’t start until I leave tonight. Drink with me. You’re not a cop anymore. Live a little.”
“You’re not my only client, Mr. Stone,” Margot told him. It wasn’t a complete lie, though this job didn’t pay. She reminded herself to call Mal so he could get started trailing Mrs. Stone while she took care of her other business.
Stone shrugged, “Maybe another time. Who knows, maybe depending on what you find, we could make it a regular thing. Maybe it doesn’t even matter what you find.”
“I don’t think I’d make good arm candy, Mr. Stone.”
“You’re selling yourself short. Plus, it’d be nice if the candy on my arm could put a beat down on some punk or put a cap in his ass if necessary.”
“I appreciate the flattery,” Margot said as she stood up, “but I’ve got places to go.”
Stone smiled again, “Suit yourself.”
Chapter 3[SC2]
Randy stood up and stubbed out his cigarette when he saw her coming.
“I don’t know what your sister told you but…”
Margot already had the telescoping baton in her hand. With a flick of her wrist, it extended to its full length. She smacked him across the knees before he figured out what was going on.
She raised it like the next blow was going for his head. He put his hands up to defend himself and she kicked him in the groin. After taking a shot to the knees and the balls all it took was a little shove to put him on the sidewalk.
“Please don’t hit me anymore,” he said as Margot stood above him.
“Is that what my sister said?”
He did his best to ignore that and kept pleading.
As expected, his wailing brought out his mom. She was holding her Sig Sauer at her side.
“He beat up your sister again?” she asked as she recognized Margot.
“Yeah.”
Mom nodded and looked at her twenty-five-year-old son. She shook her head at him and went back inside.
Randy watched his mom go back inside. He looked more hurt by her leaving than he did by Margot’s blows. He looked back to Margot, “That was a cheap shot.”
“We fight in different weight classes. I’m guessing when you gave my sister a black eye you didn’t start at separate corners and wait for the referee's signal.”
Randy didn’t have anything to say to that.
