Page 61 of Road Queens
“I would hope so.”
“—but I can’t help feel that murdering someone who’s investigating the murder of someone you had a motive to kill could backfire on you.”
“Couldbackfire?”
“Well, nothing’s for certain. I’m just throwing stuff out there.”
Amanda sighed into her mic. “I’m fine.”
“Good to know. Gotta admit, he’s a sneaky fuck.” This in a tone of mild admiration. “Not exactly an uggo to look at either.”
“His looks are irrelevant,” she said, thanking God that Beane couldn’t hear the conversation.
“Suuuuuuure they are. I’m sure if he was short, obese, bald, incontinent, and in his sixties, you’d still be into him.”
“I’m not ‘into him.’”
“Uh-huh. Y’know, when he grabbed your wrists like that in the morgue ... I’ve seen other men try that on you.”
“What can I say? I bring that out in people, apparently.”
“Uh-huh. Without fail, any guy grabs you without permission, the best they can hope for is a knee smash to the balls. Thebest. The worst hardly bears thinking about. Not Beane, though. You didn’t even try to bite his eyelid.”
“He caught me off guard.”
“Bullllllllshiiiiiiiit.”
“Sidney—”
“Oh, and book left before you get to Point Douglas Road. Construction. Take the detour.”
Amanda was so relieved they were off Beane that she could have swooned. “I’m always happy to obey your road commands.”
“No, you arenot. And watch out for squids. One of those clueless fuckers almost clipped me when he was lounging on his bike like he was on his sofa instead of a highway.”
“Thanks. Too bad hot weather really brings them out.”
“If they stuck to riding in sunshine, it wouldn’t be so bad,” she griped. “God save us from sandal-wearing, knee-scraping, throttle-gunning, toolkit-ignoring, selfie-taking numbfucks who think riding in downpours is a good idea.”
Ack! I have inadvertently awoken the beast!“You’re so right,” Amanda soothed. “They’re annoying and dangerous. You have every reason to be repelled and horrified.”
“Veryfucking annoying. And yeah, dangerous, which is almost as bad. Swear to God, the worst thing about squids is how they don’t know they’re squids.”
Squids were a hazard anytime but never more so than in summer. There were fewer things more dangerous than a young rider who overestimated his (she’d never met a female squid) skills and burned valuable time bragging about their (nonexistent) bike prowess. Usually just before they shredded their knees on pavement. Or their skulls.
A small price to pay for the pleasures of the road, but still a price.
It was normally a thirty-minute drive from Minneapolis, but later, she could never work out if it had gone too fast or taken forever. She’d never been so conflicted about climbing off her Triumph. She was still thrilled by the firm grasp on her waist and pissed that her libido wouldn’t give it a rest. She kept thinking about his eyes and how he’d been in kissing/biting distance. And she kept reminding herself thatturning around to kiss or bite him at sixty mph was a bad, bad, bad,bad planat best.
Sidney had parked her minivan and was eyeing the shop Manner’s Bikes—the grammatically incorrect “Manner’s” on the sign never failed to irk Amanda—with arms crossed over her chest. “Haven’t been here in a while, thank fuck.”
“Same. But Sonny’s okay,” Cassandra said. “The best of the bunch, even.”
“Low fucking bar.”
“Well.” Cass let out a giggle. “Yeah.” To Beane: “Jonny Frank, a.k.a. Franklin Donahue, was shot, you said.”
He handed the helmet to Amanda, who promptly strapped it down. “Shot and dumped,” he agreed. “And found in the river.”
