Buch lesen: «Mischief 24/7»

Dear Reader,

Sometimes a story unfolds in real time; a man and woman meet, fall in love, overcome obstacles both interior and exterior, and we have our happy ending. But sometimes things don’t work out that way; sometimes the obstacles are too great, the desire bringing them together not as strong as the problems tearing them apart.

This was the case with Jade Sunshine and Court Becket, who met, succumbed to their strong mutual desire—and then realised that desire wasn’t enough to hold their union together in the face of life in a world not designed for lovers.

But had theirs been simply physical attraction, the proverbial fire too hot not to cool down? Or had there been more? With their divorce about to become final, that question lingers for both of them.

When Jade’s father is buried after an assumed suicide, Court races to Jade’s side, whether she wants him there or not. Jade and her sisters believe Teddy Sunshine has been murdered and are out to prove his innocence by capturing the real murderer. But the Sunshine sisters didn’t know Teddy the way Court did, the way all the men in the Sunshine sisters’ lives knew the enigmatic man who had been part loving father, part manipulator.

Mischief 24/7 is a story told in real time, but also a story told within that story—memories of a hasty courtship, an impulsive elopement and the clash of two strong personalities all unfolding as both Jade and Court look to the past to find their future, together.

Join me as we retrace the steps that led Jade and Court to where they are now, looking for love amid tragedy and danger, even as we race through a nonstop twenty-four hours of dangerous mischief.

All the best,

Kasey Michaels

Praise for USA TODAY bestselling author KASEY MICHAELS

“Kasey Michaels aims for the heart and never misses.”

—New York Times bestselling author Nora Roberts

“Known for developing likeable characters and humorous situations, Michaels adds an element of danger and suspense to this sexy romp.”

—RT Book Reviews on Dial M for Mischief

Also available by Kasey Michaels

THE SUNSHINE GIRLS Dial M for Mischief Mischief Becomes Her Mischief 24/7

THE BECKETS OF ROMNEY MARSH A Gentleman by Any Other Name The Dangerous Debutante Beware of Virtuous Women A Most Unsuitable Groom A Reckless Beauty The Return of the Prodigal Becket’s Last Stand

Mischief 24/7

Kasey

Michaels

www.mirabooks.co.uk

To John Edward Groller.

Welcome to the world, Johnny!

THE TIME IS NOW, the place, the City of Brotherly Love. And the crime is murder.

Murders, actually. Murders old, murders new.

Retired Philadelphia homicide detective Teddy Sunshine had been working four cold cases whenever business was slow at the Sunshine Detective Agency. He’d been conducting a routine semiannual updating of his files on those cases when he was found dead in his home office, an apparent suicide.

But Teddy hadn’t eaten his old service revolver, the police said, until after he had strangled the woman he’d been stalking for three weeks—Melodie Brainard, the wife of the leading mayoral candidate.

His three daughters aren’t buying that story. They can’t. They loved Teddy Sunshine.

One by one, Jolie, Jessica and the oldest, Jade, who had been partnered with Teddy in the

Sunshine Detective Agency, took on the cold cases and worked them the way their father had worked them, sure one of the cases was connected with their father’s death. One by one, the old cases were solved, leaving only two: the surely un-solvable tragedy of a high-school scholar athlete gunned down in a drive-by shooting, and the sad haunting case dubbed the Baby in the Dumpster.

But every answer the Sunshine sisters found seemed to raise new questions, and while the girls have felt cheered by their progress with the cold cases, they still can’t prove Teddy’s innocence.

Jade, even more than her sisters, feels a responsibility to clear Teddy’s name. But will her obsession with the old cases, old hurts, past mistakes, risk her future with the man she had always loved, the man she’d thought gone from her life after their short, troubled time together as Mr. and Mrs. Court Becket?

The clock is ticking….

SUNDAY, 11:06 P.M.

THERE WAS A SUMMER thunderstorm making it a noisy night outside the suburban Philadelphia mansion belonging to antiques importer Samuel Becket. Sam wasn’t there, however, having traveled to California with his on-again-off-again and now on-again fiancée, movie star Jolie Sunshine.

He’d invited the three Sunshine sisters—Jolie, Jessica and Jade—to stay at the mansion as long as they liked, since their family home had been damaged by a suspicious fire shortly after the death of their father. Sam’s sprawling, securely fenced-in estate, complete with a gatehouse manned by intrepid former professional wrestler Carroll “Bear Man” Yablonski, was now Operations Central for the Sunshine Detective Agency, or what was left of it.

And what was left, now that Jolie had been forced to return to California, were TV cable news journalist Jessica and Philadelphia homicide detective Matt Denby, Jade, and Sam’s cousin from Virginia, Courtland Becket. Court, owner of an almost embarrassing empire of five-star hotels, among his other assets, had flown immediately to Philadelphia when he’d heard about the alleged suicide of Teddy Sunshine. He wasn’t going anywhere as long as Jade needed him. Even if she said she didn’t.

Jade closed her cell phone with a snap and looked blankly at her ex-husband as he entered the living room. “I don’t believe it.”

Court, casually elegant in belted, pleated tan slacks and a form-fitting navy pullover too expensive to sport a label, tipped his head to one side inquiringly, and then headed for the bar in the far corner of the large room. “For the sake of harmony, neither do I. Ginger ale for you, right? Considering the tone of your voice, however, I think I’ll have a beer. Oh, and what don’t I believe?”

“Jessica, of course,” Jade said, thinking about her baby sister, who had left the house not four hours ago on what she had called a mission. “Poor Matt.”

“Poor Matt? That doesn’t sound good.” Court returned to the conversation area with their drinks and sat himself down on the facing couch. “When we discussed this earlier, I thought the idea was that your sister was going to give him some space. What was it she was going on about? If you love someone, let him go, et cetera, et cetera? In which case, might I point out, you obviously adore me.”

“Not now, Court, please,” Jade said, getting to her feet and smoothing down the wrinkled skirt of her simple shirtwaist cotton dress. She was bone-weary and definitely rumpled. Only Court could still look fresh, and heart-crushingly handsome, this late in the day. Or maybe it was a gift bestowed only upon those who were born to generations of money.

Not that she wanted to think about that right now, either. She needed to pace, to work off some of the tense energy that had driven her these past weeks. Not even two weeks, in fact, since she’d come home to find Teddy’s body in his office, the back of his head blown off and his service revolver on the floor beside his desk. And yet sometimes it felt like an eternity. “The bottom line is, Jessica and Matt are together again, how I don’t know.”

“You’re talking Jessica when you say you don’t know, right? As to that, Sam and I have a theory that might apply here,” Court said, speaking of his absent cousin. “We’ve decided that your baby sister is a witch. The good, G-rated, pretty, blond, nose-twitching kind. But still a witch.”

Jade smiled in spite of herself. “You and Sam might have a point. In any case, they’ve gone off somewhere together. To celebrate before the rest of the world knows anything, which they will, soon, from coast to coast and in several large foreign cable markets—and that’s as close to a direct quote as I think I can get. She won’t say where they’ve gone, but she did say to hold the fort and that they’ll be back tomorrow night sometime.”

Court took a long pull on his beer, then smiled up at Jade. “Gone? Really? Let’s do roll call, Jade, all right? Sam and Jolie? In California, getting ready to fly to Ireland to shoot your sister’s next movie. Matt and Jessica? Whereabouts unknown, although the words hotel suite with a king-size bed and room service seem to be one fairly plausible conclusion. They should have called me and I could have arranged for the penthouse downtown.”

Jade winced inwardly. She remembered that penthouse very well. She tried to cover her sudden discomfort by saying brightly, “Ah, but then we’d know where they are, and I don’t think Jessica wants anyone to know.”

“Good point. In any case they’re gone, they’re not here. Jessica took our new friend Ernesto home earlier, where he is even now packing to leave for college on Tuesday. Mrs. Archer has the weekend off, although she may have come back by now. Still, her apartment is pretty isolated. Bear Man is in his gatehouse at the end of the drive, most probably standing in front of a mirror as he strikes a few muscle-popping poses. Leaving this very large house—and you and me. For the first time since we got here, Jade, I think I like the odds.”

It was tiring, always fighting Court—fighting herself actually—so Jade gave in. “You forgot Rockne,” she said, smiling as Teddy’s beloved, aging Irish setter snored in front of the cold fireplace. “He’s my chaperon-slash-bodyguard. Rockne! Sic him, boy!”

Rockne’s left ear twitched a single time, but his eyes didn’t open.

“I suppose you could go see if Mrs. Archer is available. She’s probably deadly with a rolling pin at twenty paces,” Court suggested. “What do you say, Jade? Can we put the cases to one side for one night? Just one?”

Jade returned to the couch and sat down, not to agree with Court, but to reach for the file folders that had been piled on the coffee table. “We’re getting so close, Court. I mean, taking the process of elimination into account, I should be able to wrap this all up in a few days.”

“You’re going to wrap this all up in a few days? Just you? Who solved the case of the Vanishing Bride?”

“Jolie and Sam,” Jade said, shifting the manila folders on the tabletop. “With a lot of help from Teddy, who nearly had the whole thing wrapped up before he… before he was murdered.”

“Steady, Jade,” Court said, leaning across the table to squeeze her fingers. “Let’s move on. And the Fish town Strangler case?”

“Jessica and Matt. Except that’s not completely solved, not if Herman Longstreet is telling the truth about Tarin White not being one of his victims, remember?” She put a hand to her head. “Sometimes it’s like we’re going in circles, you know?”

“Look, I don’t want to push this, but every day you look more… well, fragile. Your hands look a lot better since the night of the fire, but the burns still have to be tender. You don’t eat enough, I don’t know when you sleep, and when I think maybe you’re taking it easy for a while, I find you in the workout room running on the treadmill. You’ve got to slow down, Jade. Stop beating yourself up.” Jade pulled her hand free of his. He was wrong. The burns she’d gotten trying to put out the fire were completely healed now. It was the rest of her that remained wounded. “That’s just crazy, Court. I’m not beating myself up. Why would I beat myself up?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Because you didn’t come home earlier that night, find Teddy while he was still alive and draining that bottle of Irish whiskey, talk him out of what he was going to do?”

“Teddy did not kill himself!” Jade clasped her hands together in her lap because her hands were shaking and, otherwise, Court would see. He already saw too much.

“All right. Fine. He didn’t kill himself.” Court rubbed at his own forehead now, and Jade suppressed a guilty wince, knowing that he was as tired as she was. They were all tired.

“I’m sorry, Court. I know what it looked like. I was there, remember? The door to the office closed, Rockne shut outside that door, whining and agitated. The nearly empty bottle of whiskey for liquid courage. Teddy’s body on the other side of that door, slumped back in his chair, the gun on the floor beside him after he’d… after he’d been shot. I know, Court. I know how it looked. I’ll never forget how it looked.” “And the front door locked, the alarm on and no signs of forcible entry anywhere,” Court added, his voice tight, as if he didn’t want to say what he was saying, but likewise, knew that some things had to be said.

“I don’t remember,” Jade told him. “Honestly, Court, I don’t. Is that it? Have you been thinking that I lied to you all about that? About the alarm being on or off, the door locked or unlocked? Do you think I only said I don’t remember about the security code because otherwise the verdict of suicide is impossible to argue? How long have you thought I’ve been lying?”

“Not lying, Jade. Not intentionally. But sometimes we do forget what we don’t want to remember.”

“Then I should have been able to forget finding Teddy like that. Holding Rockne back so he couldn’t contaminate the scene when all I wanted to do was go to Teddy, shake him back to life. Calling Jolie and Jess and telling them our father was dead. Living through the hell of the medical examiner and a bunch of cops poking around the house for hours, all of them talking about Teddy and other cops who couldn’t take civilian life and ate their guns,” Jade said, blinking back tears. “Why can’t I do that, Court? Why can’t I forget any of that? Why can’t I forget that Teddy went to his grave labeled both a murderer and a suicide, disgraced, denied the departmental funeral his long years of service to Philadelphia demanded?”

Court had gotten up from the couch and come to sit beside Jade as she spoke. Now he gathered her close. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m a jerk for bringing it up at all. I’m so, so sorry.”

“But you’ve been thinking it,” Jade said against his chest even as she put her palm against his shirtfront and pushed herself away from him. She dipped her head forward, allowing a curtain of long, golden-brown hair to fall forward and hide her profile. “Sam, too? And Matt?”

“We’ve discussed it. But two things still can’t be explained. One, Teddy didn’t leave a note, and we think he would have done that. And two? You’re right, Jade, Teddy wouldn’t do that to you. He wouldn’t have let you find him. If he were going to kill himself, he wouldn’t have done it where you could see what he’d done. He loved you too much.”

Jade wiped her eyes with the handkerchief Court had passed to her. “Thank you. Unfortunately those conclusions come from our feelings. The cops worked with what they saw. Just the way they saw Teddy on Melodie Brainard’s front-door security cameras, the last visitor the camera picked up before she was found doing the dead man’s float in the swimming pool.” She made a face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Although dead woman’s float doesn’t sound any better.”

“You were around Teddy all the time,” Court reminded her. “Sometimes you sound a lot like him.”

“And that’s a bad thing,” Jade said, sighing, willing herself to be composed, or to behave as if she were. “Or at least, it wasn’t a good thing when I met your friends. Savannah Harper? She was always after me to tell her stories about how to shadow a cheating husband.”

“She would be, considering she’s done some fairly extensive cheating of her own on poor Buzz.”

Jade allowed herself to be diverted. “She got caught?”

“Caught, forgiven, and she’s back at it. Jade, many of the people I associate with are simply social or business acquaintances. Not my friends. You knew that. But I did pretty much toss you into the deep end with their wives, didn’t I? I’m sorry about that.”

Jade moved to return his handkerchief, but then reconsidered, and blew her nose into it. “It’s all right. It was even fun at first, listening to them, sorting them out. But I wasn’t built to be a society wife, Court. We both know that now. It wasn’t that I couldn’t fit, because I think I could, if I worked on it. I just didn’t want to fit. Country club lunches and charity balls? They’re not my thing.”

“You were bored.”

“No, Court, I was being smothered. Melting away, losing myself. There’s a difference.” She looked at him, felt a small catch in her belly and reached once more for the stack of files. Those files were the only things she could hold on to right now. Solving the remaining cold cases, praying one of them led to Teddy’s killer.

“I was a jackass, only thinking of my own happiness,” Court said, and she sliced a quick look back at him, seeing the hurt in his face.

Such a handsome man. That’s what had caught her attention at first, his dark good looks, but his innate goodness had been what held that attention. She couldn’t stand to see him hurting.

“I should have told you I was unhappy—that was unfair of me. And we were both pretty stubborn, as I remember it. You were always gone on business, and Teddy needed help back here until he could replace me. One thing led to another, didn’t it? But that’s all water under the bridge, right?”

“Is it?”

“Court, I…” She dumped several files in Court’s lap. “Let’s do this now, clear off Sam’s priceless antique table, sort out what we need and don’t need. I can’t count on Jessica having her head anywhere near the game for at least a few days, and I think we’re getting too close to slack off while she walks around with stars in her eyes.”

“We’re going to have to talk about this sooner or later, Jade. You do know that. I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“Court, please,” Jade all but begged him. “Not now.”

“Not now. That’s becoming a familiar refrain.”

“I’m sorry, Court. But I really can’t do this now. Every day that Teddy is believed to be a murderer is one day too many. If we’re…if I’m to have any future, I’ve got to correct the past.”

“Sometimes that isn’t possible, Jade. Sometimes we simply have to close the door and move on.”

“Like we have? Our divorce was final almost a year ago. Have we moved on, either of us? Would you be here now if Teddy hadn’t died? Is it time we gave up, Court, and closed the door on us?”

Court looked at her for a long moment, his deep brown eyes unreadable. “Point taken. Pass me one of those folders.”

Jade handed him one of the files, blindly, as she couldn’t read the words on the tab through the tears in her eyes, and then pulled another file onto her lap. She opened it, staring at nothing as she felt Court’s assessing gaze on her, burning into her. What was he thinking?

THE BECKET PHILADELPHIA

Two years earlier

IT WAS THREE DAYS after Christmas. Court sat at the hotel bar with Sam Becket, watching as his cousin made a valiant attempt to drown his sorrows with gin and tonic. Clearly not a dedicated drinker, his cousin, or else he’d go for a single malt, neat, and doubled.

“Tell me again why you didn’t just go after her?” Court said, thinking it might be a good idea to keep Sam talking, instead of drinking. “You know, fly to the Coast, grovel, plead, grovel some more?”

“I told you,” Sam said, lifting his glass and looking into it, frowning. He set it back down. “I don’t even like gin and tonic. Teddy warned me away.”

“Teddy. That’s the father, right? Jolie’s over twenty-one, isn’t she? It wasn’t as if you needed his permission.”

“Jolie’s his daughter. He knows her better than anyone. Obviously better than I do, or I wouldn’t have offered her money.”

Court picked up his own glass. Bottled water with a twist of lemon, as he had elected himself designated driver, even though he was staying at the hotel and that meant driving Sam back to his own house in the middle of a snowstorm. But these were the sacrifices one made for family. “I have to hand it to you, Sam, that’s unique. Here’s money—marry me. Yet slightly lacking in romance, I’d say.”

Sam shot his cousin a sharp look. “I offered her money to live on while she waited tables or whatever it is out-of-work actors do to survive while looking for their big break. She threw it back in my face. Literally.” He pushed back on the bar stool. “Damn it, Court, I was trying to help.”

“But that help came with a time limit. I remember this part. Go to Hollywood, Jolie, fall flat on your face—but eat well while you’re doing it—and then come home at the end of one year and marry me. You ought to think about a career in the diplomatic corps. Especially since, last I heard, she’s still out there and you’re still here, kicking yourself in the backside.”

“I’m done kicking myself for that one, Court. I’ve done something else since that fiasco. The dumbest damn thing I’ve ever done.”

“Dumber than the day you pinned a pillowcase to your shoulders and flew off the garage roof?”

Sam smiled at the memory, rubbing the arm he had broken in the fall into some saving shrub. “I was seven. I had an excuse. I don’t have an excuse for this one. I know a few people out there in La-La Land and I… I bought Jolie’s way into the worst movie ever released straight to video.”

“Porn?”

“Very funny. No, Court, a horror flick. You know, kids out for a night of necking in the woods, the obligatory masked madman running through those woods, chopping up teenagers with a souped-up Cuisinart or something. She had a few lines and then got some pretty good close-ups where she had to look scared and scream a lot.”

“All right, I think I’m beginning to follow this,” Court said, commandeering a bowl of peanuts from the bartender. When you own the hotel, someone is always watching, ready to supply anything you want. “The film bombs, Jolie bombs, and she gives up, comes home to pick out china patterns. So? Tell me about the flaw in this master plan, because obviously there was one.”

Sam ran a hand through his already mussed dark blond hair. “So this big Hollywood type saw her, said he’d never seen anyone the camera loved more since Julia Roberts, and signed her to a three-picture deal. The first one isn’t out for another month or so, but according to the grapevine, she’s brilliant in it.”

“Ah, hoist with your petard,” Court said, toasting Sam’s debacle with bottled water. “Or something like that. Now what?”

“Now I face the fact that I’ve lost and I’ve got to learn to live without her, that’s now what. Now I keep doing what I’ve been doing.”

“Burying yourself in work,” Court said, thinking of Sam’s legacy separate from the Becket family inheritance, a large import/export antiques empire that had its beginnings nearly two hundred years ago and, in the past few years, a steady increase in high-end retail antique stores. Court had leased him a large area inside this same hotel and many of his hotels around the world. “How’s that going for you?”

Sam held up his glass. “How does it look like it’s going? But enough of me crying in my gin and tonic. How are things with you? I know you just flew in from somewhere. Where was it this time? London? Paris?”

“Rome. You’ll be happy to know that your share of our latest acquisition to the Becket family portfolio includes an owner’s suite overlooking Vatican City. It’s yours to use whenever you want.”

“Sweet,” Sam said, clinking glasses with Court. “I propose a toast. To Ainsley Becket and his entrepreneurial spirit. Shipbuilding, land, thoroughbred horses, banks, developing industries. He was a man ahead of his time.”

“He was a privateer and a pirate, chased out of his own country before he could be hanged,” Court said, smiling. “Come to think of it, so are we. Pirates, that is. We just play more within the rules than he did two centuries ago.”

“Good, because I don’t think getting hanged from some yardarm is on my to-do list for the New Year. How about you? Court? I said, how about you?”

“Hmm?” Court had turned on his bar stool, his interest caught and held by the woman just entering the bar. He watched her steady progress toward him, everyone else in the crowded room fading away as if a spotlight was on her, moving with her.

She was stunning, from her unbelievably long legs to the artlessly piled honey-brown hair that made him itch to find the pins that held it in place and slide them out one by one, all those warm-looking curls cascading down over her bared breasts. The clear mental image surprised him. “A couple of days after the fact, but better late than never. Thank you, Santa Claus.”

“Santa Claus? What the hell are you talking—Oh, damn it all to hell. What’s she doing here?”

“You know the lady?” Court asked, dragging his gaze away from the woman who was heading for a bar stool two down from him. A good thing he was civilized, or he’d push the guy next to him to the floor so she could sit beside him. “Talk to me, cousin. If I’m going to propose marriage to the woman, I probably should know something about her.”

Sam kept his head down, a hand raised to shield his profile. “That’s Jade Sunshine. Jolie’s older sister. She works with Teddy at the Sunshine Detective Agency. She’s a PI, Court. And you’d have about as much luck trying to tackle a porcupine. Maybe more luck with the porcupine, come to think of it. Trust me. You don’t want any part of that.”

Court was silent for a full three beats. “Really. She’s a private detective? Do you think she’s here on a job or something? At least she isn’t a high-class call girl, which would have ruined every-thing. You know, thinking ahead, for when one of our kids asks how I met their mother.”

“Which one of us was drinking tonight? Look, Court, give me your elevator key. I don’t think I should drive tonight, so I’ll crash with you.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. I may have plans for that suite. Believe me, cousin, they don’t include you as a roommate.”

“You’re casting Jade in that role?” Sam peeked out from behind his hand to grin at his cousin. “I’ve got fifty bucks here that says it doesn’t happen.”

“Just go to the front desk and tell them I want you set up in a room, all right? Now, if you’re not going to introduce us, just go away. If you two don’t like each other, you won’t be any help, anyway.”

Sam slid off the stool, his head still averted. “It’s not a question of dislike. It’s just that I hurt Jolie, or at least that’s how Jade sees it. Stick to first names,” he advised quietly. “She hears Becket, and you can kiss any ideas you’ve got goodbye.”

But Court was barely listening, as he was already tuning in to the conversation going on between the middle-aged man next to him and Jade Sunshine.

“And you’re sure I can’t buy you a drink, honey?” the guy was saying, his back to Court. “Something real. Who comes to a bar to drink ginger ale?”

Jade stirred her soda with the plastic swizzle stick, the ice clinking. “I like to start slow and then build from there. In my business, a clear head is a part of the service.”

Court liked her voice. A little bit low, slightly husky. Definitely sexy. And he was pretty sure she knew it. The guy next to him was nearly drooling.

“And what is your business, honey?” the guy asked her.

Jade kept her right hand on the swizzle stick as she gracefully swiveled on the bar stool and carefully crossed those long legs beneath the short, black sheath. Court swore he could hear the silk of her stockings whisper with the movement.

She reached out with her other hand and stroked a finger down the guy’s tie. “I thought I told you, handsome. Service. You see, honey, I serve people. Should I serve you? I’d really like to serve you. What’s your name, honey?”

Court lowered his head and let his breath out slowly, wondering why the ice cubes in his own glass, and in every glass in the bar, hadn’t melted yet.

“I… I’m Harvey,” the poor sap stuttered. “If… if, uh, we’re going to get to know each other, um, better, maybe you should tell me your name?”

“Sure thing, honey,” Jade said, her hand leaving the man’s shirtfront to slide down his thigh and then onto her own knee. “I’m Lucy. Lucy Lawless.”

“But isn’t that the name of that actress who… Oh. Oh, right. I guess, in your line of, uh, work, names aren’t real. I should have thought of that. But I am Harvey. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Harvey, honey,” Jade soothed, inching up the already short skirt of her dress. Her other hand had left the swizzle stick and now rested on Harvey’s jacket lapel. “It’s a great name, Harvey. What goes with it?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Court saw the bartender moving down the bar, probably to eject the obvious hooker. Court shook his head slightly, warning the guy away.

Harvey’s eyes were all but glued to Jade’s leg as she slid two fingers beneath her hem and slowly headed North. “Hubbard. I’m… I’m Harvey Hubbard. Should you be doing that here? I’ve got a room upstairs and…”

Court caught a mind-blowing glimpse of black lace garter as the blue-cover-clad tri-fold appeared from beneath Jade’s hemline. At the same time, her other hand grabbed at and pulled on Harvey’s jacket front, and an instant later the obvious summons was in his inside jacket pocket.

“Harvey Hubbard—honey—you can now consider yourself served,” Jade said, getting to her feet as she let go of him.

Harvey wasn’t too quick on the uptake, at least in Court’s opinion, but he certainly reacted pretty quickly to what had just happened.

“You bitch, I’ll kill you,” Harvey muttered murderously as Jade turned to walk away. He flew off his bar stool and clapped a hand on Jade’s shoulder a split second before Court was off his own stool and reaching for him.