Page 100 of Ugly Duckling
“Oh, and the Combs put a hit out on you,” Apollo continued as he took a large bite of his waffle. “On both of you. Got the hit pulled down, and I’m sorry I didn’t catch it earlier. The only person they were able to get to agree to the hit was Aleah, though. Which, I think you’ll be happy to hear, her husband wasn’t very pleased to find out about. Yates left her on the side of the freeway. She stole the car that she tried to hit you with yesterday. When she couldn’t get you, she took out your car. Tried to collect twenty minutes later. The Combs are already in custody. Aleah has a BOLO—be on the lookout—for her. Yates is cooperating with the police.”
“Wow,” I breathed. “That’s…”
“These waffles are fantastic,” Apollo said as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on us. “Will your uncle share the recipe?”
“It’s Krusteez.” I pointed at the bag on the counter. “You can buy it in bulk at Costco.”
“Sweet,” he said. “I’ve been craving one of their chicken hot pocket things in the food court. Hush, you gonna eat all those?”
Hush shared his waffles with Apollo.
I made eye contact with Gunner, and he could only shake his head and mouth, “Wow.”
Apollo was right on all counts.
The news of the hit that was taken out on “Star baseball player turned hero security specialist” made the five o’clock news.
Even weirder, my social media clients found out that I was dating him, and we were declared a match made in heaven an hour before I got ready for bed.
Lottie was curled up between us, dead to the world, when Gunner said, “This is the weirdest thing.”
“I agree.”
Before he could say anything else, his phone beeped and he frowned. “The club is apparently having a get-together tomorrow night at the lake. Do you want to go?”
I looked at my swollen ankle, which seemed to hurt even worse after he did his torture on my tendons, and said, “As long as you have a chair that I can sit in, I’m down for anything.”
Famous last words.
Twenty-Five
I act like everything is fine, but deep down I want to strip for one night to see how much money I make.
—Sutton to Gunner
GUNNER
Packing for a weekend trip for two females was hard.
Whereas I would’ve just packed up the camper and left, leaving it for chance whether I had everything we needed or not, that was not how Sutton worked.
She was downright militant as she went through a checklist on her phone.
“Bug spray?”
“Got it,” I said.
“Chairs?”
“Got them.”
“Baby wipes?”
“Got them.”
“Sunscreen?”
“I think I got it.”
