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“Holy Fuck, Taz. Do the locals have anything on the shooter?”
My ears perked up.
“Yeah, that figures. So, an attorney bonds him out, and then he’s dead in less than two hours? Fuck me. Someone didn’t want him talking, that’s for damn sure.”
Who? What? Where?
“Yeah, come by as soon as you get back so we can debrief. Okay. Later, bro.”
I’m definitely shaving my legs.
I took the animal crackers in for Bryce.
“Mom, if you’re good here, I’m going to pop upstairs and take a shower, okay?”
“That’s fine, Lindsey. Is Slate busy?”
“He’s been on the phone. I’ll let him know you’re asking about him.”
I told Slate dinner was in the oven and that Mom had asked about him. He said he would eat with her and feed Bryce.
Perfect.
I hurried upstairs and took a shower, making sure to shave and wax. I applied make-up; blew my hair dry, brushed my teeth and then went to my closet.
I selected a pair of skinny jeans. I went through my dresser and selected a low-cut, black sweater to wear with the jeans. I pulled my black, heeled boots on and surveyed myself in the mirror.
I changed purses to a larger black shoulder bag, tossing a clean pair of panties, a short, silk nightie and my toothbrush in the side pocket. Hopefully, I would have need of those items at Taz’s.
I spritzed a hint of cologne between my cleavage, put earrings in all of the piercings and I was finished.
The timing couldn’t have been better. Just as I finished up, I heard Slate bellow from downstairs.
“Yo, Lindsey! Need your help down here, please.”
“Be right there,” I called down, running my fingers through my hair.
Be still butterflies.
I traipsed down the steps and did a pretty good job of acting surprised when I saw Taz standing in the living room with Slate.
His eyes were immediately on me, perusing me from top to bottom as if it had been weeks instead of days. I felt the same.
“Hey, Linds,” he greeted softly, giving me his wicked smile.
“Oh, hey, Taz,” I said, smiling, my hands clasped behind my back as if I was hiding something. Maybe I was - my true feelings.
“Oh, Christ,” Slate said, shifting Bryce in his arms.
Or maybe not.
“Here, Slate, I’ll take him,” I said.
“Naw, even I can’t be that much of a prick. I knew the little guy shit himself before I called you down here, Lindsey. I’ll go ahead and clean him up and change him. After that, can you keep him entertained while Taz and I de-brief?”
“Sure, no problem, Slate.”
Slate disappeared down the hall to the nursery.
