“Friendship is so weird. You just pick a human you’ve met and you’re like, ‘Yep, I like this one,’ and then you do stuff with them.”
Anna Collins
I flew to New Mexico for a fugitive recovery, and the local sheriff who took custody of Madge when I brought her in was exceptionally helpful in pointing out how easily my license could be taken away if I put one foot out of line. I guessed he wasn’t excited about the fact that it took me eight hours to find a woman they hadn’t found in eight months.
But I was in a crappy mood after that, because he wasn’t wrong. The bail bondsman and bounty hunting licenses I’d collected from various states were pretty heavily regulated – for good reason. Nobody wanted the guy, or gal, with the propensity for law-breaking and violence to have arresting rights. Until recently, my propensity for law-breaking had been entirely theoretical. If I was even charged with a crime, I’d lose my licenses in at least five states, and my reputation would be severely damaged in the others. Despite the fact that I’d basically fallen into bounty hunting as a profession, I liked what I did, I was good at it, and I didn’t want to lose my options to do it.
I made it back to town in time for Dungeons & Dragons at Sparky’s loft and went early because I was sick of my own company.
“Anna-banana!” Sparky said when I lifted the freight elevator gate.
“Hey, Spark.” My brain fatigue must have been audible, because he did a double-take.
“You sound like you just found out the Easter Bunny is a lie.”
“My mom believed that culturally acceptable lies are still lies, so she always said she believed in the magic of Easter and Christmas, and how sad for anyone who didn’t. Technically, the Easter Bunny is magic,” I said.
“Dude, your tone of voice lacks the inflection appropriate to the message delivered. What’s up?”
I sighed. I really did love Sparky for being such a bro. “I have to figure out how to extract a wooden frame from a bigger one that’s wired to a wall, and do it without getting caught.”
He scowled. “That’s not hard, but the not getting caught part sounds like maybe it’s something you shouldn’t be doing?”
I sighed again like a moody teenager. “I think my filter has finally completely broken. I think not being able to lie to a guy I like broke my filter, and now I can do nothing but tell the truth to anyone who asks.”
He lit up like a neon sign. “Really? Can I try it?”
I scoffed. “Go ahead. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Okay, what’s the worst that could happen?” he echoed.
Jerk. I narrowed my eyes at him. “The worst that could happen is nuclear holocaust, or barring that, a meteorite strike like the one in The Calculating Stars, which is an excellent book, by the way.”
He smirked. “What’s the worst that could happen to you if you get caught.”
I glared a dagger through his heart, which he must have felt, because his grin faltered slightly. “If I get caught, I lose my licenses, might go to jail, my sister’s naked ass gets plastered on billboards all over the city, and the bad guy wins.”
Sparky alternately scowled, smiled, and scowled again at my list. “And if you don’t do the thing at all?”
“The last two,” I said glumly.
Sparky raised an eyebrow. “While I’ll admit to being more than a little intrigued at both the news of a sister and the threat of her naked ass, unless it’s the middle of a trilogy, the bad guy doesn’t get to win.”
“As far as I know, I only get the one shot at this life, so no, not a trilogy.”
Sparky stood and began rummaging in his workshop. “Alrighty then, describe what you need to do exactly.”
By the time Taylor and Ashley wandered in with Ashley’s newest recipe for sparkly rainbow unicorn cupcakes, Sparky had designed the perfect tool for the break-up and extraction of the stretcher I’d left behind in the frame in Gray’s panic room. And when Shane got there with homemade hummus and flatbread, he’d sketched the parts for a new, portable frame that could be assembled on the spot, which he would 3D print for me in the morning.
I kissed his cheek with the enthusiasm of a much-improved mood. “Thank you! I’ll see what I can do about a picture of my sister’s best side for you.”
He grinned, and Shane raised her eyebrows at us, not having been privy to our earlier conversation. “Your twin sister?”
Now Sparky gaped at me. “Like, identical twin?”
“Shhh, pretend you didn’t hear that,” I said, putting a finger to his mouth in a distracting, nonsensical gesture. Then I turned to growl at Shane, though my mood was too good to put any teeth behind it.
“Thank you for that. I don’t need to figure into any twin fantasies.”
“Twin fantasies,” Sparky said in a dreamy voice, which ended in a bark of indignation when my elbow caught him in the stomach.
“Taylor,” I began, in a desperate bid to change the subject, “thank you for the intro to D in Boston. He had some great information on the Gardner heist, and I really appreciated the time he took to meet with us.”
“Oh yeah,” Taylor said, “D said to tell you thanks too. The guy you connected him with came through with the name of a guard who wasn’t working the night of the heist but knows something he apparently needs witness protection to share. D’s tracking that down for an article on the thirtieth anniversary.”
“Cool. He must have done something nice for Junior’s mom to get that much from him.”
Taylor grinned. “D can be a charming guy when he isn’t playing a crusty old reporter.”
“What does the Gardner heist have to do with the case you were in Boston to do?” Ashley asked.
So, I told them, minus the bits about The Sisters painting, the Manet, and Markham Gray, because apparently I could still omit, I just couldn’t lie. The conversation was almost more fun than the D&D game was because no one else had even heard of the heist, and at some point during the evening, everyone’s phone came out to check a fact or look at a photo. It was heady stuff to be the expert in the room.
Shane fell into step with me as we all dispersed for the night. “So, I’ve been trying this new thing called being friends with women. I’m pretty sure I still suck at it, and I’m definitely awkward as hell, but if it wouldn’t be too weird, would you mind being one of my guinea pigs?”
“If I get to be the really cute, super soft kind and run on the wheel, I’ll happily be your guinea pig. I have to warn you though, my filter is broken, and I have very little impulse control when there are inappropriate things to be said.”
She laughed, then saluted me. “Noted,” she said before turning down a different street. “See you next Tuesday.”
“D&D’s not Tues— ohhhhh, I see what you did there. C U Next Tuesday. Ha! You can’t make me say the word just because it’s the only thing my brain can hear now. GAH!” I yelled at her as she walked away laughing. “How about Tuesday, Wednesday, And Thursday?”
“Oh, well done!” she called into the night.
Sometimes adolescent humor really was called for, especially between new friends.