Page 347 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection
Mac grins a truly evil grin. “Depends. My little badass deserves her Sir’s come today. But another day? When my dirty, dirty girl hasn’t done anything to deserve her Sir’s come? I wouldn’t count on it, if I were you.”
My toes curl into the thick rug beneath the table.
“Yes, Sir,” I whisper as I take another offered bit of chicken.
“If you two can stop flirting for a minute,” Logan says from where he’s sitting across the table. “I’m guessing there are things you need to share?”
I glance at Mac and nod. I trust him to tell Logan what he needs to know. Mac keeps his arm around me as he relates the attack and I eat. The coldness at my core finally warms once I have a full belly. Instead of strange and shaky, I just feel sleepy. I rest my head against Mac’s shoulder as I drink the last of Emily’s chamomile tea, which is substantially better than the turmeric crap she tried to poison me with.
“We need to get Max out to Bren’s shop sooner rather than later,” Mac tells Logan.
I tip my head back to look at him. I’ve got every camera in the world in my shop already thanks to Logan. What’s Max going to do there?
“You think that’s how they knew where and when?” Logan asks.
“It’s either that or one of her employees. Who was with you in the shop today, Bren?”
“Nicky and Jules. What are you guys talking about?”
“Sweetheart, they haven’t been waiting under that scaffolding all weekend on the off chance you’d walk by. They knew where you were going to be. They knew when. And they knew you’d be alone. Those are things they could only know if they have a camera or mic in your shop and overheard you arranging lunch with me. That, or one of your employees tipped them off.”
“No way. Nicky’s one of my best friends.”
“What about your piercer?”
“Jules? She’s worked for me for about three years. We’re not that close but why would she fuck me over? She’d lose her job if I closed the shop.”
Logan’s already got his phone out. “That’s the real reason the skinhead tried to get a swastika. He was planting a camera or a mic.”
Mac nods. “It’s been quiet since we recovered the designs because Bren hasn’t been in the shop. They haven’t known where she was.”
“Right,” Logan says. He thumbs his phone and puts it to his ear. “Max? Hi. Bren was jumped by Mr. Move On and two buddies. No, no, she’s fine, but the only way we can figure they knew where she’d be is if they planted a camera or mic in the shop. Can you— yeah? Really? Okay, call me back when?—”
Logan rolls his eyes at Mac while tucking his phone back into his pocket. “It’s like he’s allergic to hello and goodbye.”
Mac chuckles.
“He has something that can find signals going out of the shop. He says if there’s a camera or mic it should pick up the signal. It’ll take about a half-hour to run.”
“That boy always did have the best toys,” Mac says. “If we find something, I don’t think we should remove it immediately. We could use it to lure them into a trap.”
Logan rubs his chin. “And do what? Make a citizen’s arrest?”
“No, we’re past that. We’re at reactor scram. If you want to sit out what comes next, I’m good with that, Lo. I don’t want you to do anything that risks your license. But I’m not giving them another shot at Brenna.”
“I will always have your six, sir,” Logan says, very seriously.
I look between the two men. “You’re not thinking of doing anything illegal, are you? I don’t want you guys to get into trouble because of me.”
Mac tucks me tighter into his side and kisses my forehead. “Illegal, no. Would your friend Theo approve of our vigilante justice? Probably not. I’m still considering whether to put Mad Bob out of business permanently or only temporarily, but he won’t have any reason to worry about the competition for a while, that’s for sure.”
“You sure this is just about competition?” Logan asks. “I’m still concerned about the race angle.”
“I think race was what got Mad Bob’s distant skinhead cousin by marriage involved,” Mac responds. “But everything’s been about Missing Ink. Even what the asshole who attacked her today said.”
Logan nods. “What are you thinking about in terms of putting Mad Bob out of business?”
“I’m thinking sodium metal down his toilet.”
