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Badass Mysterious Granny: Plucky! That’s the right word! I’ve called you that before, but I want you to know that your name is entered into my phone as Plucky Babe Hacker Burglar Lady. I think it suits you.
Me: (laughing emoji with tears squirting out) That might have just made my night. Okay, tomorrow at ten. Have a good night. Or early morning.
I don’t have to be rude after sending threats that weren’t truly threats because they were facts. However, they might also be thinly-veiled threats as well. I can be nice while sending threats. Obviously.
I go and get my tea and sit back down at the table. Still no cats. I could totally use one to cuddle with right about now. There’s nothing like a purr machine that’s all soft, fuzzy, and warm to make the world feel right, even when I know it’s not. And my world has majorly tilted off its axis as of late.
By the time I have the twig-matter stuff fished out of the tea and am getting ready for my first sip, there’s another twenty-five grand in my account. I wish Helen Cromwell would hire me more often. She pays promptly, her jobs are easy, though strange, and I have to admit I like her. Kind of, maybe just a little.
Anyway, it looks like I have an appointment for ten tomorrow morning, which is this morning. I could go to bed and get five hours of sleep before then, but I think I’ll just stay up, drink copious amounts of really strong tea, and get a game plan together.
I have to once again face the only man I’ve ever considered fantasy material—a cotton candy, underwear, sword fighting muscles of a man.
I’m going to need it.
CHAPTER 4
Kirian
Don’t talk to me about problems because I know all about problems.
Currently, I’m standing in the empty reception area of my own company, a large one, I might add, in a state-of-the-art, brand new high-rise building in downtown NOLA after giving my receptionist the day off. I didn’t want her anywhere around the necklace. It was bad enough that it was currently in a stranger’s hand.
I’m so nervous that I haven’t even eaten breakfast. Because who could possibly eat breakfast after a Granny-induced burglar burgled my home?
I’m utterly exhausted, thanks to the burglar’s wake-up call, followed by the one with my granny. I was worried about finding the necklace, about how I’d get Granny to tell me who it was she hired, and also how I’d get it back. I wondered if it was already too late, that maybe I’m cursed, the poor lady is cursed, and the necklace will implode or explode or something.
I still don’t know what reaction the necklace will have, and it’s due to be in this building in ten minus some odd minutes.
There is apparently no end to Granny’s meddling. This morning, around six, Granny texted me saying I needed to meet with the burglar lady at ten this morning at work. At. Work. Thankfully, there was a silver lining in that text, which is the fact that the burglar is going to give me the necklace back.
When I got to work, I sent everyone an email saying they have the day off with pay. It was eight-thirty then, the usual start time, and I think the whole building cleared out by eight forty.
This time, at least, the meddling is good. It’s a relief that the necklace will be safe and everything will be fine.
I think.
Then again, this is Granny’s doing, so maybe everything will not be fine.
At exactly ten, the front door opens. In walks a petite and slim to the point of looking waiflike woman with piercing green eyes and strawberry blonde hair. It’s a strange color. Last night, in the glow of the street lights, I would have called it burnished bronze. Today, in the daylight, I definitely see the sandy gold streaks in all the rich, flowing copper. She has beautiful hair, and it falls over her shoulders in a sleek curtain that I very much want to bury both my hands and face in.
What the actual sparkity sparklefucks?
I obviously don’t rush forward and go for her hair like a maniac since I am a grown man, and I have control of myself at all times. That’s right, even around cakes and cake licking, which is a family tradition. Alright, fine, so I don’t have full control around cakes, but that’s because it’s cakes. This lady isn’t a cake. She’s a lady. And right now, she’s silently taking something out of her pocket. She’s dressed in all black again, but this time, she went without the toque. She has on a black blouse tucked into black ripped-up skinny jeans, and she has a thin strip of black lace at her throat, which is some sort of choker, I think? All that black makes her pale complexion stand out, but not to the point where she’s washed out. The smattering of red-gold freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks also stands out. She has long lashes. Very, very long ones. And they stand out too.
