Page 51 of Stilettos & Secrets on the 7 Seas

The guard studied her for a moment. “What’s in the box?”

There was some rumbling of a package and, “Voilà!” Itty’s voice sounded chipper. “I baked it myself.”

“What the frig?” I pressed harder onto the glass. “Ace, can you see anything?”

“No, doll.”

“It doesn’t have a file or a gun baked inside, does it?” the guard asked.

“For heaven’s sake, have you watched too many Netflix movies?” Itty peeked around the guard. “This is my special pink frosted supreme. The only thing on the inside is love.”

“Five minutes.” The guard’s thick neck moved out of my line of vision, and Itty entered the prisoner’s area carrying a pink frosted three-layer cake. Her snappy casual polyester pantsuit matched the cake and her silver hair was piled high on her head in a top knot bun.

The guard leaned against the door jamb just out of earshot but watching her every move. His eyes mostly on the cake. I guessed the guards didn’t get many homemade goodies.

“Itty.” I stuck my hand through the opening to pass food.

“Hellooo.” She stopped in front of me and quirked her lips. “Seems you’re in a pickle.”

“Yes. How did you know we were here?”

“I received word of your incarceration, and your fiancé asked me to keep an eye on you.” She frowned at me. “Seems I’m the last to know of your engagement.”

Oh, for the love of Pete. “Sorry. It’s a new development. Where’s Caiyan?”

“He’s…overseas.”

I mentally thanked Al for passing the word to Itty, then swallowed hard at the evidence looking me in the face. If it were true, if Caiyan jumped for Potts, there would be no engagement. And once I got my hands on him, there wouldn’t be anything left of him to be engaged to.

“Auntie, did you bake a file in the cake?” Ace pressed his nose against the glass.

“There’s a gun in there, right?” Fredericka’s voice sounded hopeful.

“Neither would pass security.” She looked at Ace and shook her head. “It has another purpose.” She kept her voice low, turned her back to the guard, and slid a badge to me through the food slot. “You’ll need this, dear.”

I looked at it. A photo of Al, gray hair mussed and pocket protectors filled with pencils and pens, smiled back at me.

“Auntie, what’s the plan?” Ace asked.

Itty turned toward Ace and chirped rather loudly, “I thought you might be hungry, but the cake’s too big to fit through the hole.”

“I want cake.” Ace pleaded with the security guard.

“Such amateurs,” Fredericka grumbled. I couldn’t see her, but I knew she was shaking her head in disgust.

“How do these cells unlock?” She leaned toward me and examined the keyhole in the door. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in the big house.”

“There’s a set of keys in the guard’s pocket.”

“Hold tight.” Itty balanced the cake on her hands, walked back toward the guard, and held the pink frosted cake up for him to see. “The cake is too large to fit through the small hole. I need a knife.”

“Sorry, lady. No weapons in the detention area.” The guard didn’t take his eyes off the cake.

“Not a weapon, perhaps a butterknife?”

The guard shook his head.

“Surly, a big handsome man like yourself carries a pocketknife?”

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