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Joe flipped off his potential business partner.
“Huh.” Quinn pursed his lips in thought. “I take a couple classes at your gym, and I know a couple of my deputies have talked about joining me. With the tactical aspect you’re talking about, it could be beneficial if we did it formally through the department. Let me talk to the mayor and see if we can find some funding for it. Why the hell haven’t you guys mentioned this to me before?”
“Believe me, I’ve thought about it.” Cade shrugged. “But I didn’t want to offer something we didn’t have the manpower to deliver. Depending on what Buchanan decides to do, we still may not.”
Joe laughed. “You can save your guilt trip for someone who doesn’t know you as well, De la Rosa. We’ve done two-story beer bongs together, remember?”
Cade grimaced. “Thatis something I’d like to forget.”
“Tell me about it. I still can’t look at a PBR without feeling queasy. But like we talked about earlier, let’s do this women’s self-defense class first and see if my teaching style jives with your crew. We’ll go from there.”
“What women’s self-defense class?” Quinn asked.
“Cade’s got a weekly women’s cardio kickboxing class they do. In light of the photo shit that’s happening with Rox, I was thinking of offering a self-defense class. I’d like to get her, Alex, and the rest of Rox’s staff to go. I figured if we did it right after the cardio class, hopefully, we could get those women to stay for it too.”
Gavin frowned. “What’s the photo shit with Roxie?”
Joe gave Cade, Gavin, and Matt a quick rundown of the situation, and Quinn chimed in with any details he missed.
Cade let out a low whistle. “That’s fucking creepy.”
“She’s got a stalker,” Matt said, crossing his arms over his chest. His jaw muscle ticked. “My sister-in-law had one. If you need help, man, count me in.”
Stalker. A chill crawled down Joe’s spine. He’d used the word in his head, but hearing the Seattle PD detective say it out loud had his blood running cold.
“I’ll keep my eyes and ears open for sure,” Cade said. “As far as the class goes, I like the idea of doing it after the cardio kickboxing class. Since those ladies will be tired, we should keep it to about forty-five minutes, definitely no longer than an hour.” He eyed the women at the counter and something dark flickered over his face. “I definitely think attending is a must for the ladies who work here. With the shit going on with Roxie, it’s non-negotiable. I’ll happily waive their fees.”
Joe nodded. “I don’t think Rox or Alex will have any problems with going. But what about the others? I don’t really want to broadcast what’s happening with the photos.”
“That’s understandable,” Cade said. “June already goes to the kickboxing classes, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”
Gavin rolled his eyes. “I’m sure Sheila will jump at the chance to go. I don’t know about Nina, though.” A sly grin spread across his face. “For her, though, I’d be willing to take one for the team. If need be, of course.”
“Oh, would you now?” Joe asked with a chuckle.
Gavin shrugged. The picture of innocence. Well, as innocent as a six-two, two-twenty, former special ops guy could look. “What can I say? I’m a good friend like that. If I need to take Nina out for drinks, dinner perhaps, in order to convince her to come to the class, I’d be willing to do that. For her safety, of course.”
“Well, aren’t you just a fucking saint?” Quinn laughed. “Because I’m sure it has nothing at all to do with the fact that Nina’s smoking hot.”
“Nah, I haven’t noticed,” Gavin said, though his wide smile indicated otherwise. “Aren’t you married, Sheriff?”
“Sure am, my friend. My wife is even more smoking hot, and she’s the goddess I plan on worshiping until the day I die. But I still have two eyes.”
Joe laughed, then lowered his voice. “What about Minnie Mouse over there? What if she needs extra convincing as well?” He nodded to Cade. “You in?”
Cade froze like a deer in headlights. Then his slick smile was back. “If she balks, let me know. I’ll send a couple of my fighters down to do the convincing. I’m sure all parties will see it as a win-win.”
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
At eleven thirty that night, Roxie finally walked through the front door of the Buchanan house. With Nina out sick, she’d had to work a small catering job that she’d originally planned to delegate. The event had been a five-year anniversary party for the local yarn store, Knit Wits, which was three doors down from Comfort Food.
Most of the women who’d attended were regular customers at the café. Roxie had been surprised to find out the knitting shop drew in such a wide range of ages. Since she had the knitting ability of a rock, she’d always thought it was something only grandmas did.
Roxie had learned three very important lessons tonight. The first—which she really should have learned in kindergarten—was not to judge a book by its cover. The second was thatcraft nightwas code. It was a decoy that convinced significant others that the women in their lives were getting together to trade secrets of domestic and crafting bliss.
In reality, it was a bunch of women getting together to drink heinous amounts of wine, gossip like raunchy sailors, andmaybeget a couple of rows knitted. Or purled. Whatever.
As for the final—and probably most important—lesson Roxie had learned?
