Page 92 of Mistaken Identity
I smiled, which felt foreign on my face after dealing with my mom over the last hour.
“I have to stop by somewhere before I come home. Do you want me to grab dinner?”
She hesitated. “What kind of dinner?”
The grin once again lit my face. “The kind that you tell me what you want, and I stop and get it, because I know that you’re a picky little shit.”
She sighed. “I’ve gotten better.”
“By better, you mean that you will now eat onions?” I teased.
She gagged. “No!”
“Oh, maybe pickles then?” I kept going.
There was a long, silent pause before she said, “Only sadists like pickles.”
I huffed out a laugh as I said, “Sure, baby. Now, tell me what you want, or I’ll just assume that it’s pizza again.”
“If you go to Canes, I want chicken fingers and french fries. No gross slaw. And a sweet tea. If you go to the Mexican place around the corner, I want cheese enchiladas with queso on top. Rice and beans. Hold the carrots.” She continued to name off the places that she would eat, ending with, “Or, if you go Chinese, I want sweet and sour chicken. White rice.”
I was smiling huge by the time I hung up with her.
That smile died off my face when I pulled up to Shasha’s place off the lake, and was allowed in immediately.
His wife met me at the door with a kid on her hip before saying, “Are you the reason my husband’s throwing a fit?”
“Not me specifically,” I admitted. “But I’m the reason he found out.”
She jerked her head toward her husband’s office, which was wide open with Apollo and Dima standing inside of it.
“’Bout time you got here,” Shasha growled. “I want to know what we’re going to do with this douchebag.”
“We’re not doing anything,” Dima interjected. “I’m doing something.”
“Actually, none of y’all are doing anything, because that guy’s locked up tighter than a virgin’s legs whose daddy is a preacher,” Apollo said. “Now, I have connections, and I’m going to use them. It’s y’all’s job to get the pickup when I get him delivered to you.”
“When?” I asked.
“Tonight,” he said. “After one, preferably. I have a few things I’m working on, and I want to make sure that this won’t blow back on me.”
I growled. “And if we take him out of the picture? Will they look toward you?”
“No,” he answered. “Because, officially, I’m nowhere near this state. I’m actually in DC right now voting on a bill that covers GLP1 medications.”
I shook my head. “And how, exactly, are you planning on getting back there in time to vote on something like that?”
“You let me worry about that,” he said. “I got connections, and skills.”
I sighed as I watched him leave without a word.
When I looked back at Shasha, it was to see his eyes intense on me. “How about you let me worry about this?”
I was already shaking my head. “You don’t know what he did.”
Shasha sighed and leaned back in his leather chair. “Enlighten me.”
I did, telling him everything.
