

Dinner With A Dead Man

Mystery with a twist of Romance

Published by Smashwords and Copyright 2012 CJ Hawk

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This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and strictly fictional. All persons, places or incidences are creative endeavors of the author. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this independent author. Please keep in mind when converting to various eBook formats some typographical errors might occur. Any promotional copies cannot be offered in any eBook sites without the author's permission unless the version is offered through Smashwords on a contractual basis.

Some girls have all the luck, and I'm not one of them. I've gotten myself into some really sticky situations all my life, but this one beats them all. Who can say they had dinner with a dead man? Me. That's who. Add to that, I am currently unemployed and will take any measly bone a person might throw a dog. I am licking that dog bowl for odd jobs that pay cash, as I collect my unemployment check. All this, while trying to please my mother's need to marry me off before it's too late. Between blind dates, odd jobs while looking for a job, interviews with stellar type people - not, I wind up having dinner with a blind date to only be attending his funeral within a week's time.

Chapter One

I stopped pacing my apartment while holding my phone away from my ear, then tried screaming, in an indoor voice, to the phone, thinking it might help to stop her rambling chatter if I just plain didn't listen anymore. "Mom. Mom!" I was wrong; she was still talking so I took a deep breath in and tried to get a word in edgewise. As soon as I heard her take an intake of breath, I interrupted my mother from continuing. "Mother, I heard you. I can't possibly go out on another blind date at this moment." I reached down to my toenails and picked at them as they were in desperate need of a pedicure while my mother kept talking, more to herself about some guy named Bernard Gooth. Just his name alone reminded me of the last five men she set me up with. Bow tie wearing, white socks, dress pants an inch too short and 'where did he get those shoes' question pounding in my brain. And that last question, is not in a good way. For some reason, when my mom was handed out the mother knows best genes, she escaped the line for latest bargains at Bargain Hut. She seemed to think that since I am not married or engaged by my age of twenty nine, that I need to find me a bargain of a man to marry and soon.

"Don't you talk to me in that tone Missy." That was my mother's typical response, and my name is not Missy. It's Eliza Smuthers and my friends all call me Liza. My mother, Cher Smuthers - originally Charlotte - yes she renamed her first name after the star. For me, she seems to think Missy fitted me better ever since I've given her more trouble than a life raft with holes in it. My mother has a fitting resemblance to Cher when she dies her hair black and gets a curl. Right now, her hair is blonde, platinum blonde, and I am neither. I am five foot six in height, single digits when I'm good, blessed with a rack that I did not inherit from my mom, hers were paid for. My hair is the same light brown I have always had in a cut that was very stylish, oh about three months ago, right before I lost my job. My eyes are average blue, but if you make me mad, it's like someone turned on the neon, and they glow an eerie blue color. My best friend Gail can contest to it. I have never won a pageant or been asked to be a model, not that I ever tried, that was my mom's gig. My mom was still talking while I was thinking over the finer point of how the two of us are very different in looks and personality. Which left me with a fleeting thought of what my father looked like, but I will get to him later.

"And another thing..." Ok here is where I walk around my apartment, listening to my mother while I toss away past-due notices of bills into the trash, get in a load of dishes and get dressed for my dog walking skit that I am due for, oh - about five minutes ago. However, that is the beauty of working with a dog, they just bark at you when they greet you. They don't care if you are late, only if you have a smile, soft hand to pet them and a leash dangling from your hand. The wagging tail and licking is about the only action I have seen in a while.

I let my mom go on for about ten minutes describing this Bernard Gooth as I tackled as much as I possibly could get done around my place without listening to a single word she just said. I finally was ready to head out for my dog walking job, so I did the only thing I knew that would get my mom off the phone.

"Mom, that's my other line. I think it's that job I'm trying to get."

"What other line? I didn't hear your phone beep? What job? Are you still applying at places? Did you check out that new supermarket chain that is opening up next to my house? I heard..." And she was off again. My mom could talk your ear off.

"Mom. It's that job. Love you. Bye." I hung my phone up before she could respond. I would pay dearly for that later but for now; I just wanted to stick my earphones in my ears, select some dog walking music and pick up Sampson and Delilah from the old couple up the street. They owned a Great Dane and a Chihuahua. They paid me twenty a week to walk their two dogs an hour a day, four days a week. I was severely underpaid by them, but those dogs were a breeze to walk. Delilah the Chihuahua, would just run circles around Sampson, the Great Dane, while he basked in the sun at the park. I sat on the bench checking the local job listings on my phone and watched this really incredibly good-looking guy who walked his yellow lab every day at this time. He was eye candy with his muscular build, tall frame, dark unruly hair and a jaw line that made my fingers want to caress it, and for the first time, I just watched him check out the guy who just walked past him. Go figure. That was my track record. Oh well.

The nice part about the Sampson and Delilah gig is the old couple up the street, the Zhestakova's, referred me to their grandson, Mark Zhestakova, to clean his house once a week. That gig paid a hundred in cash each time I cleaned, and he was a very neat guy. He too, was an extremely good-looking guy, like the man on my dog walk, but way out of my league financially. I dust his pictures around his condo, where he has his arm around women, that would put those women with a secret from Victoria's to shame.

My cell phone beeped with a text message from my best friend Gail. She had a job opportunity for me at the waste plant if I could get there in the next hour. I texted back I could make it and bent down to pick up my oversized bag that I carried with everything under the sun, including Sampson and Delilah's doggie treats to get them to head back home.

Before my hand could grab the strap, hottie man with the yellow lab caught my attention as he was yelling my direction for his dog. The very same dog, which picked up the strap of my bag in his mouth, and was running fast and furiously away from me - bag and all. The dog's owner ran past with a swift 'sorry', and I sat stunned for all of three seconds when Sampson took off running after that man's dog faster than I had ever seen him run. Delilah ran after barking, but her short little legs were no match for Sampson's, and neither was mine.

Ten minutes later, with a bucket of sweat on my body, hottie guy with the lab was introducing himself to me as Dale Earnheart, like the race-car driver, but he wasn't really a race-car driver, and he spelled his last name out for me as if I had never heard the name before. It was a bit of an odd moment when I joked, 'well it's a good thing you don't spell it the same as the famous race car driver', and he looked at me as if I was mistaken. He owned a classic muscle car shop down on Broadway, and he liked to talk about himself with a bit of undistinguishable accent. As much as I wanted to stand there and talk, I really did, even though I knew it would go nowhere; if I did not get the sweet old couple's dogs back promptly on time, they would be mad.

I found an opportunity to get a word in, to explain I had to get my dogs back and off to work. Race car man looked a bit miffed, but then, he had been checking out another man, so why should he?

Being late to a job interview is not the way to start off on a happy note. However, the guy interviewing me didn't seem to care that I was late, just that there was a canyon between the valley on my chest, if you know what I mean.

This wouldn't be my dream job. It would just be A job. Which, I desperately needed. Working in a landfill, sorting recyclable material or cleaning out the jammed conveyor belt is far better than getting kicked out of my apartment and living with my mother - you might as well jam my arm in that conveyor belt if I had to move in with her.

I had not lived with her since I was twenty-two, and that was twenty-two years of excruciating agony. Living with my dad wasn't an option, because I had no idea who he was and apparently neither did my mother. I was the proud product development of a one-night stand between a Cher look alike stand-in on an off-Broadway play and a man who looked GOOD after a few shots too many. In other words, my mom says she had no way of knowing she was pregnant with me until it was too late to let the stranger know.

These thoughts I was having about my father, who he was, what he was like, had me sitting at a green light. Just as I looked up and noticed the lane next to me moving, I barely had time to take my foot off the brake and touch the gas before... Bamn! I was hit from behind.

It took me a second, and fifty or so feet of forward motivation from the car behind me, to realize it wasn't my foot on the gas making me go forward. I stopped my car at that precise moment it all came together and put the car in park and turned it off. Lucky for me, so did several other cars around me. I got out and turned to my 'free ride' through the light and noticed the young blonde teen still texting away feverishly. Perhaps it was her parents or her BFF, whichever it was, she knew she was in BIG trouble.

I heard some strangers ask if I was all right, which I was. Well, as much as a gal in my situation would be. Broke, out of a job, about to be evicted from my apartment and going on blind date number? Well, whichever number it was, I am sure I will end up going. If anything, it will be for the free meal.

I took a look at my bumper, and my old faded blue four-door Honda Accord, with the old chrome bumper which was actually looking pretty good. It was bent down a bit but drivable and fixable for less than a hundred or two.

I walked over and rapped on the girl's window of her silver four door Corolla, just about as old as mine. Her car, well, it was going to need some work. I was going to offer to get some cash from her when she started to blame me for not going quick enough through the start of the green light. I let my eyebrows rise up past my forehead as my eyes opened like a deer caught in headlights. I felt my teeth bite the inside of my mouth with stress, and a small twitch built on my right eye. Before I could say what I was feeling deep down inside of me about teens driving that text, or texting and driving in general, I saw the flashing lights of the blue and red.

Two hours later, she got the ticket, but I got the impression that her cut-rate car insurance company wouldn't be paying up quite so fast. I didn't want to deal with it right now. I knew somebody that could fix it for free, that would be Chuckie, my best friend Gail's brother. He was the fixer of all thing's cars or motors, and he had me running on this paid off car since I bought it back in high school. Why buy a new car when a girl can buy a whole lot of new shoes or music for the price of a monthly car payment? Get where my priorities tend to be.

My apartment was hot. I had forgotten to turn on the air conditioner before I left. I managed to get it turned on just as the phone rang. I had two choices here. Stand in front of my air conditioner and cool off, or answer the phone, which might be my mom. The sound of my answering machine kicked on, and I listened to my own voice sing out how I am not available at the moment but to please leave a message. That sing song message of happy glee only took me twenty some tries before I didn't sound like I was drunk or on helium.

"Eliza Smuthers. This is BLZ Landfill calling regarding your recent interview with us today. If you can give us a call..."

"Hello?" I ran to that phone so fast thinking if I talked to them in person, I got the job. "Sorry I was just walking in the door from another interview." Ah. Now I got 'em. They think I am on high demand or not going to be available soon so they are going to hire me over the phone. Besides, they don't interview twice for recycle trash line work, do they?

Twenty seconds later and a serious onset of heartburn, I got the jest. The landfill won't hire me because of very unsubstantial reasons, then the guy saves the best for last. "Besides... you're too hot to work the recycle line. My guys would never get any work done with the set of knockers on your chest." Ok, so maybe wearing my low-cut dress shirt and push-up bra were not exactly my brightest ideas to a job interview. I was getting desperate, and I guess the desperation showed. "Good luck on that other interview. I'm sure they'll hire you." Then he hung up as if he had no idea how not giving me a job had done me in.

Now why did I have to be an idiot and tell him I had another interview? Why didn't I just tell him I could wear big baggie clothes and no makeup? Instead, I hung up politely thinking something better is waiting for me in the wind. Then I farted a stress fart and pinched my own nose, while running out of the room. This was not good. Not good at all.

After taking a moment to pull myself together, I noticed nine messages still flashed on my answering machine. Being ever so hopeful that one is a job opportunity with a hiring bonus, so I can keep my apartment one more month, I hit the play button. Unfortunately, they were all from my mom.

"I had an incredible date last night. You need to get out more often, live it up. Find you a man to take care of you since you are not doing a bang up of a job taking care of yourself. Never depend on a man sweetie, always depend on yourself." Now that message was a contradiction in itself, but that was my mom. Our entire life together, she tells me one thing, does another and then tells me to do just the opposite of what she has spent her life preaching to me. I shook my head and smiled while I listened to the next message. This one I was expecting. She must have forgotten to put it in with the last message.

"Oh! By the way, don't you dare hang up on me missy."

The next message was another afterthought of hers, but somehow I did not think it was meant for me, which gave me a chuckle on who it was meant for. "Oh! Bargain Hut has a special on cat food."

The next message was my mom's typical meddling. She had planned five blind dates in the last few months, and all of them were epic failures. When I listened to this message, I knew I was stuck in blind date number six. "I called Bernard for you. He wants to meet you."

Some time passed since the last message, but somehow or another I did not know who was working the angle for this blind date. "Bernard came for tea and I showed him my scrapbook of you." Great. Now he knows what I look like, but I have no idea what he looks like. If I depended on my mom for a description of him, I would be misled to think he was one of the top ten sexiest Hollywood men, only balder and a bit shorter and don't forget to double the midsection.

However, somewhere in there, my mom saw star quality on the looks department, which always made me wonder what my real dad actually looked like, not what she described him as. She said she didn't have a picture of him, and that he was only a one-night stand. Once she realized she was pregnant with me; it was too late to go find him. I lived with that story all my life but internally held doubt because my mother was never one to stick to the same story if you get my drift. A little too much coo-coo going on between those ears.

Ok. This next message irked me but was expected. I wouldn't even need to ever officially talk to my blind date. My mother handled that for me. "I made you two a date tomorrow night at five p.m. at Crothers Cafe down off Milford Street. Don't be late." In my current world of unemployment and only my best friend Gail as a social life, I guess I had no excuses as to not be going out on this date. However, the fact that my mother assumed that, only irked me more.

Her next message was the one step further my mother always took in my life. "Wear that nice floral sundress with the high-heeled sandals. Don't forget your sweater." For some reason, she seemed to think that at my age, I still did not know how to dress myself for a date. If I had any idea as to whether I might want a second date, I would wear something sexy. First date with a blind date, it was always better to wear anything neutral. Jeans and a basic tee always worked for me. Besides, it's a hole in the wall cafe where questionable things happen in that neighborhood all the time. I should know. It's just down the street from my apartment.

Her voice continued to sing out on the answering machine. "Call me when you get this." I used the excuse all too often that I didn't check my messages at home because after several years of owning a cell phone, one would think she would rather try to reach me where I can be reached at all hours, not just sitting around home waiting for the phone to ring. But then, how could she leave all these lengthy messages? I suppose she had her evil plan already mapped out and a cell phone would only curtail it.

"I meant to tell you it was the pasta sauce on sale at the Bargain Hut. I know you don't have a cat sweetheart, but if you don't find a man soon you might as well become a cat lady." I was pretty sure the message referring to cat food on sale was a passive-aggressive move on my mom's part so that she could get to this very point that she told me all too often. If I didn't marry soon, my eggs would be shriveled. If I didn't marry soon, the pickings would be too slim. That was evident in my last five dates and the fact that not a single man under fifty had looked at me in a way he might look at a piece of cherry pie, like he could devour the whole thing.

After I finally finished my internal laughter about my ever-passive aggressive mother's original taunt about cat food and date, I decided to click on the cable and watch a movie. After hitting the remote against my hand, changing batteries and then checking all the wires to the TV, it dawns on me - my cable was finally canceled.

I finally gathered the nerve to call my mom. It would be more of a battle not to go, besides; Bernard might be ok? Really? How much more bad mojo can happen to one gal?

Chapter Two

"The strangest thing happened to me on the way to the cafe for my blind date." I rattled this off to Gail, from my cell phone, as I sat trembling in my car.

"Tell me first, how did the interview go?" How could I tell her about that when I just saw a dead guy?

"I didn't get it." I blurted out. Then I took a deep breath and interrupted what was most likely a pep talk from Gail as I cried out a bit of information. "I saw a dead guy!"

"What? Come again?" Her voice sounded confused.

"I saw a dead guy. Dead. D. E. A. Dead. Oh jeebers Gail. It was scary. He was so lifeless." Give me a break, I know a dead guy, is well dead, but I was freaking here.

"What? Come again?" Her voice sounded more protective and proactive now that my last comment had a silent moment to sink in.

"Dead, Gail. The man was dead." I practically whispered into the phone, while letting the information I was sharing with Gail actually started to seep into the far regions of my brain and began to register for the first time.

"Oh... Kay..." She had that way of sounding out a single word as if it was long and a full sentence. However, what she really was saying was, please explain in calm detail what it is you just saw. So, I did what I did best. I started to ramble.

"See. I wasn't able to find a parking spot anywhere near the cafe. So, I circled the block three times, and I found a spot this guy was pulling out of, and turned on my turn signal and waited for him to pull all the way out. Then I took several tries before I was able to parallel park, and Jesus why did I have to be so crummy at parking? Why could there have been empty spots of the front of the cafe, so I did not have to walk passed the alleyway? The same dang alleyway, where this guy who looked alive, but perhaps drunk, was leaning against the dumpster. I was sure I heard some kind of moan or sound, and he was looking down at his feet, but he wasn't really looking down at his feet because he was dead and his head had just fallen forward, but at the time I was starting to walk by I didn't know that." I took a huge intake of breath and did what I did best. I continued on to rambling.

"I thought maybe he needed help, but of course that was stupid on my part because there are bums in this area, and they prefer to enjoy their drunk stupor alone, not have some unemployed nosey rambling broad ask them if they need any help. Which is what I did when I stepped forward and stepped right in front of him and saw some dark liquid on his dark jacket. I reached out to nudge him with a 'hey mister', and that is when I noticed he looked lifeless. Dead kind of lifeless. So, he couldn't have moaned because he was already dead. He hadn't moaned, or perversely, I imagined it. Or worse, his lifeless dead body had leaned against the dumpster and moved it enough that the squeaky wheels sounded like a moan..."

"Liza!!! Stop. Are you ok? Wait, don't answer that. Obviously, you are freaked. I want you to listen to my voice." Her voice went from screaming my name to a calm soft spoken monotone syllable sounds. "I want you to take a deep breath in, hold it for one, two, three, now out. Take another deep breath in. Let's hold this for five." By the time she got to five, I think my heart was pumping again, and my hands weren't shaking as bad.

"Did you call the police? Or go inside the cafe?"

"No." My voice held tears, and my heart was still in hyper mode.

"So did you call your date? Does he know? I mean, what if he is at the cafe waiting, thinking you are a no show. Boy your mother is never going to let you live this down." Gail's overly concern for my blind date almost, and I do mean almost, made me laugh. Her thoughts were always in concerns of others; this would be the reason she is going to make a great nurse.

I wasn't going to live it down either. Seeing a dead man for real was about the worst thing that has ever happened to me. Well, almost. There was this moment in fifth grade when I got my unsuspecting period in class while reading my poem. Well, I really don't want to go into it.

My mind wandered for a bit then I finally answered Gail. "No. I don't have his phone number. My mother set the whole thing up. I can't tell my mom - not right now." Dealing with my mom about this could put me up there with dealing with a dead man in an alleyway.

"Go back to the cafe." Gail stated it calmly, but I knew for my sake, there was no sense of calm in her mental dialogue going on in her brain. She was internally as freaked out as I was, because that was the kind of girl Gail was. If I was concerned or freaked, she was too. She just had a better handle on the meaning of calm than I did. Thus why, I would NEVER, make a great nurse.

I thought over her request to go back to the cafe for all of two seconds before I blurted out. "Are you kidding me? I can't do that. I can't walk past that alley. Besides, I just saw about ten cop cars turn the corner, and I am pretty sure they are sitting in the alley gathering evidence. What if I left evidence? What if they think, I did it? Oh God, Oh shit." My hands were shaking, and my brain felt like it could burst with anxiety.

"Calm down. You didn't do anything. Did you touch anything? You didn't, did you?" Kudos to Gail I thought. This was why I always called her before my mother. My mother would have chastised me for not continuing on with my date instead of being concerned with a dead man in an alley. Gail, well she was doing what she did best, damage control. I heard her calm clear voice ask me the same question repeatedly. "You didn't, did you? You didn't? Did you?"

"Did I? Did I touch the dead man? Oh God, Oh shit, I think I did. I thought it might just be ketchup that exploded or a red pen but when I touched his dead body, and those blank eyes staring from that pale face. Did I scream? Oh God, Oh shit I did scream. I screamed like a little kid at her first horror movie."

"Liza! Calm down. You didn't kill anybody. You need to get yourself pulled together. Forget about your blind date for just a minute. I'm on my way to work, and I can't miss this shift. Where are you? I'll have Chuckie come get you." Chuckie is Gail's brother and practically my brother as well. His real name is Charlie but with his red hair, blue eyes and demonic resemblance to the horror movie character, Chuckie stuck with him, for as long as I can remember. Sometimes I think Gail is adopted because she is the only one in the family with brown hair and green eyes and skin color that tans rather nicely. The rest of her family does not. However, none of us wanted to... go there, if you know what I mean.

"I can drive myself." Just as I started my car up, I looked down and noticed a bit of dark color on my new off white wedge sandals. I turned the ignition off and began wondering. Did anyone see me? Hear me? What was that sound behind me before I turned and ran in my three inch wedged sandals. I realized that the blood from the dead man must have dripped on my sandals as I stood looking at him. It must have been the blood dripping from his chest that landed onto my new shoes. I let out a terrible cry. "Gail?"

By the time Gail helped me pull it together I was feeling half-normal. I found a trash dumpster three blocks away and tossed my sandals in there. I found the nerve to call my mom and left her a message to call Bernard and make a valid excuse, that I had massive cramps and pms and just could not make it. This was the one time, I was hoping my mom did not have my pms schedule on her calendar. I guess after years of using it as an excuse for everything under the sun, she finally got wise and kept track so she could bust me lying about it.

I realized there was no need to have Chuckie pick me up. I was a trembling mess, but I could drive the few short blocks I had left back to my apartment.

Groceries had been sparse since my unemployment, but I was sure there was a really old chocolate chunk ice cream in the very back behind the Bargain Hut vegetarian black bean burgers my mom dropped off the other day, a whole case and no buns. Yippee.

Once I discovered that the carton, I saw way in the back of my freezer yesterday was empty, don't ask me why I put it back in after eating all of it, but I did; I went for saltine crackers, which is not the same. However, I was on a serious verge of broke mixed with a lack of cash to splurge on things like, oh let's say food. I was really looking forward to that coffee and pastry with Bernard.

By my tenth saltine cracker with grape jelly, I realized that my curiosity was eating away at me. I had to drive back by. I had to look at the surrounding stores to see if there were cameras, and I needed to get something decent to eat. Since my budget wasn't looking too much like rent, I was thinking a meal at the cafe I was supposed to meet at with Bernard and quite possible some random overheard conversation from any police that might let me know if I was going to get caught for finding the dead man.

At this point, I wasn't even sure if my mom had gotten my message I left on her answering machine regarding canceling the date with Bernard. So perhaps, I should go back. Just so I could possibly catch the tail end of the date and come up with some rambling explanation as to why I was an hour and half late. I quickly changed into jeans and a black tee shirt, grabbed my keys and some courage, and stomped out the door of what was soon to be my evicted apartment, unless that is if some miracle happened by.

My first drive by around the back of the cafe, where I had discovered the dead guy, brought visions of crime scene tape and several police officers. There was one tall, well-built man, with a FBI jacket and dark FBI embroidered hat standing with his back to the street, and his hidden face turned sideways talking to another cop. Just the fact that the FBI might need to be involved caused me to start coughing a nervous cough that sounded more like a gagging sound. I felt myself veer off out of my lane, right into a coned off area across the street and down a block. I was now stopped out of traffic, and realized I had pulled up where construction trash once laid. I slowly backed out and prayed that I hadn't picked up a nail.

Once I was back on the main part of the street, and my eyes were scanning for cameras on the outside of buildings that might have picked up the image of me running from the scene. I knew I had nothing to worry about. I didn't kill the man. However, what if the person who did, did it so well, that the only person any cameras picked up on was me walking into the alley, me touching the dead guy, and me running away like a crazy woman without her medication.

I drove by two more times. The first time, the FBI guy was rubbing the back of his neck while talking to a an attractive female cop. She looked to be flirting, and his side exposure made me realize why. He was attractive, by at least what I could see underneath the dark FBI hat. Perhaps it was the uniform. The FBI jacket was filled with muscles, not flab. It was evident in his broad shoulders and the size of his hand rubbing his neck told me that he wasn't a small man. I still couldn't see his facial features, but at this point I had to mentally slap myself across my face several times like a bad Hollywood movie actor. I was sick for just thinking about the agent, when I should be thinking about how to bail myself out of the mess that I just put myself in. The second time I drove by, he was gone and so was the air in my tire. My car had picked up a nail and had a flat just twenty feet from the crime scene that I wanted to avoid.

I got my car off to the side of the two-lane road to a parking spot with only ten thunk, thunk, thunks. I mentally looked up and prayed that I didn't screw up the rim of the wheel by doing that. However, my worries about getting the tire fixed versus driving on the spare for a while came to light. So really, if I had screwed it up, like a lot of things I have done lately, it would just have to wait for a decent payday. Which wasn't looking too likely at this point.

I got out of the car and looked around, hoping that my changed attire from my previous blind date clothes to my jeans and black tee shirt wouldn't bring attention to me standing just twenty feet from where I had run away screaming like a lunatic after discovering a dead body.

A voice from behind me made me yell out an 'eek' sound as I jumped in a turning motion to see who was behind me. There, in front of me, was one of our cities finest, decked out in blue with his shiny metal badge blaring at me like a neon light. Oh shit.

"I'm sorry I scared you. I was just asking if I can help." I looked at his name tag, and it read Officer Miller. I smiled weakly and shook my head yes.

"Can't be too careful in these parts." He mentioned as I watched him grab the keys from my hand and unlock my trunk. "Spare in the trunk with this model, I presume." I shook my head yes, and my smile softened. "Lots of construction going on around here. We've got folks getting flats almost every day when they pass by here." He was a nice looking man in his forties. Average looking. Small pudge around the waist, not a muffin top, just a I like to eat pudge. He had on a wedding band, so I presumed he was just being helpful. Then what he said next made me gulp hard and then hold my breath. "They just found a dead guy back over there in the alley." He motioned over his shoulder. "Can't be too careful. This area isn't safe for a pretty young woman like yourself."

I crossed my eyes for a second and then looked around. Was he flirting with me or was he just being nice? I was going with the second thought, but still I was hoping he would hurry up. The longer I stood here; I felt like someone might recognize me. As if total strangers would start walking towards me like zombies, pointing their fingers and chatting 'there, she did it'. I finally found the courage to speak. "Thanks for doing this. I really appreciate it. I haven't ever had to change my own tire, but I guess if I had to, I could. It's nice to have someone as helpful as yourself, help a woman like myself...." You get the gest. I was starting to ramble as I was so freaking nervous that some lightning bolt was going to come out of the clear blue sky and strike me down for not telling the law official that I was the one that found the dead guy but went away screaming like an idiot. As I got to talking about the finer points of why living in a diverse financial challenged area can also be a life experience that has to be lived by every young person, the cop was handing me my keys and wishing me a nice day as he practically ran away. I had the gift of gab when I was nervous, and I had just gifted myself out of gabbing my way into a jail cell. Because, if he hung around any longer, my conscious might have caused me to tell the law everything. In full detail.

Needless to say, I never made it into the cafe for a bite to eat, just the gas station for fix-a-flat in case the spare took a digger and a king-size Snickers Bar and large Diet Coke with a straw. I texted Gail that I was ok. I wanted to text my mother, but she didn't have texting with her nonexistent cell phone. In other words, she hadn't caught up with technology as of yet.

When I got home, I plopped down in front of my TV and tried to turn it on, knowing full well no magical cable fairy waved her magic wand and turned my cable back on - for free. However, I sat in my oversized chair, with the remote in my hand, and the feeling of exhaustion creeping into my bones. The sugar from the Snickers bar lasted all of ten minutes along with the caffeine in the Diet Coke. Mentally, and physically, I was d-o-n-e DONE!

I had a house-cleaning job tomorrow that would pay more than I had in my dwindling checking account, dogs to walk and a few jobs to apply for not too far from the dead guy alley that I had seen in store windows. At this point, I would take any type of pay. To just have a job, was a step in the right direction.

The next morning, Bernard called my house phone. He sounded, dare I say - sexy. He explained he was called away at the last minute for an important business matter and left a message at the cafe for me. He wasn't sure if I got the message, and he wanted to make it up to me with a dinner at Chez France; the new Paris themed restaurant, which has a waiting list a weeklong to get into. How could I say no to the opportunity to get to eat there, when I knew with my dwindling checking account of ninety-six dollars and thirty-two cents, that I would not be eating anything but cardboard soon if I did not find a real job.

I called Gail and excitedly explained sexy Bernard's voice that was left on the answering machine. Ever the positive glass half-full gal, she encouraged me on to thinking that his looks matched his voice, and that it will all work out ok. She ended the conversation in asking me if I told my mom about the dead guy. I snorted and laughed. "Not a prayer in hell."

I nervously dialed the phone number that Bernard left for me to call him back at, only after listening to his voice on my recorder more times than I cared to admit to myself, let alone anyone else. What can I say, I'm lonely in the sense that even if his voice did not match his looks, I would just spend a lot more time closing my eyes around him and letting him talk for a change. Unlike my babbling bubble of personality that usually overruled any conversation I have ever been in. My mother excluded, as I knew she not only had the street corner marketed on that one, but the entire block or city. She was a talker in every sense of the word that describes 'over talker'. I guess I can blame her on this genetic marker that has kept me from keeping decent dates with potential. I usually talked their ear off. On the fourth ring of Bernard's phone, there was no answer, so I hung up the phone and took a deep breath. I needed to call back and leave a message, but I was scared out of my wits that I might leave a speech on his voicemail.

I spoke aloud to myself, trying to calm myself and gather the nerve to call back and at least leave a message that I got his message. "Don't babble. Don't babble out loud. No babble, babbling is bad. No babble. No babble baby talk." Just as I was pacing in my small square footage of apartment, talking to myself about babbling, the phone rang with a caller ID unknown. It could be a job prospect, or it could be... Bernard Gooth. I rushed around my couch to my kitchen wall phone, wishing my mother had handed out my cell phone instead, got there on the fourth ring and answered it, not with a typical hello. "No babble babe." Oops.

"Liza? It's Bernard. I saw you just called." I was quiet for a second due to my embarrassment by how I answered the phone, and due to the fact that I was afraid if I said anything, only rambling senseless words would flow out of my mouth. He said my name again. "Liza?"

I let out a breathy 'yes', then bit into the palm of my hand trying to contain the excitement I felt for a man I had never met, just his voice made my dungeon want to sweep out the cobwebs.

"Listen. I want to apologize for having to bail out on our blind date. I am really looking forward to meeting with you. I got us in for a reservation; that is, if the time works out for you."

"I can make it. Whenever. I'm currently with a wide open schedule. Being unemployed does that to a gal. Hey, sorry my mom set up the first date for us. I'm not usually the type of gal who has to have someone set up a date for her. I guess when she met you; she thought that we might be perfect for each other, not to mention, she showed you a scrap book of pictures for me and already had you over for tea... good gest, listen to me. I'm rambling. Sorry."

"Your mom?" He asked in question.

"Yeah? She mentioned... oh never mind. Listen. I'm open. Just tell me the time and date. Let me give you my cell number in case, well let's hope not, but in case of a business emergency. I'd hate to order and have you be a no show again." I laughed nervously. The man had no idea that I had never made it into the cafe for our first date, let alone any idea of my dead man adventure.

We hung up for plans for a dinner date come weeksend. In which it passed quickly, but with some apprehension if his looks matched his voice. I should have asked for a picture by text, but then that wouldn't make it a blind date now would it. So I stayed focused on the job hunt. Although, I had not a single call on all the resumes or applications, I had planted out there. Gail had Chuckie get my nail hole fixed on my tire and replaced, with the spare back where it belonged, just in case. He also took it upon himself to fix my bumper and sent the bill off to the texting teenager's insurance company, using his repair shop slash monster truck rally garage as the biller. He was good for me that way, and my life would not be complete without him or Gail.

Bernard had texted that he would be wearing a dark jacket, white dress shirt and blue tie. That he would be the guy with a rose at the table. Well, every single table had roses on them. I stood confidently at the hostess stand, in my sexed up hair, red slinky number and cleavage as the show stopper with a little help called four inch heels. Yet, after approaching five single guys, waiting on their dates, I finally ask the hostess if she could announce that Bernard's date was here.

After the announcement, not a single Bernard showed up but three other guys that fit the description of who I thought Bernard from the first blind cafe date might have looked like, offered to be my date if Bernard never showed up. One by one, they came over to the hostess desk and offered to be my date. I guess I wasn't the only one being stood up. All of them spoke to my breasts with a smile of anticipation. I knew the slinky red dress with cleavage booster was a bad idea for a first date.

I slunk out of there not expecting a thing out of life. I did, however, get the impression that I was being followed. Being a woman who took her safety out alone at night, I did what I thought was best. I stuck to the light of the street, pretending to talk and walk with strangers walking the same direction towards my car as I was heading, staying close to them as if I was in a group. As soon as I got to my car, after several long strange stares, I locked my car door and took a deep breath. As I began to drive, I realized that the headlights behind me switched lanes each time I did and turned a corner when I did. After driving in a circle three times, I finally decided I was being followed. I drove my old Honda Accord as fast as I could, through red lights, oncoming traffic honking and almost ran an elderly lady over.

I frantically called Gail to tell her, and she started screaming at me to find the local police station. I told her I couldn't search my phone and ditch the person tailing me. She told me to head to the nearest gas station and pull in, turn my lights off and stay in my locked car. To call Chuckie with my location once I was stopped.

I did just that. Five minutes later, Chuckie showed up in his monster truck, half way decaled for the next monster truck rally show. He knocked on my window scaring the crap out of me. I knew I had lost the person tailing me blocks back but every person that pulled into the station scared me. Lucky for me, the attendant at the station kept yelling at me through the intercom to get gas or go home, but I was not getting out of my car and I think his yelling kept everyone away.

Gail texted she would stop by my place to check on me once her shift was done. Chuckie offered to split a twelve-pack of Bud at his garage while I watched him detail his Monster truck. I opted for the follow home with him in his beast of a truck and me in my Honda Accord. Ever the protective Chuckie and man of few words, he followed me home, walked me inside, made a second offer of the twelve-pack of Bud and took my word at the fact that I had an emotionally draining week, and I told him that I just started my period. Nothing gets a man moving faster than the mention of that monthly womanly chore - which in my book, right now, it is much more of a chore than a blessing. Kids were the farthest thing from my mind.

By the time Gail made it to my place at two a.m. from her long shift at the E.R., I knew the last thing she needed to deal with was my dead man, which seemed to be sliding out of radar. Nor did I need to worry her about my second attempt at a blind date, or my neurotic thinking that I was being followed. As I put more thought into it while watching a VHS tape of Dirty Dancing \- yes, some people actually still have those things, I realized I might actually be just over-reacting. She gave me a hard time about the VHS, and I reminded it her that it was her parents before it was mine, and if my DVD player had not quit on me, I would be watching that instead. When she asked me about my cable, I cringed. In Gail's family life, cable came before, food, cigarettes, or alcohol. Since both of her parents smoked and drank like it was going to be prohibition if they did not contribute most of their paychecks to it, it was standard living there to know, cable first, cigarettes and alcohol second. Everything else could wait.

By three a.m., Gail was fast asleep on my old leather couch that was my treasure from an apartment that got evicted six months ago, and nobody claimed. I retired to my bed, to lay with my hands behind my head, in my long sleep shirt and a pair of socks, wondering why Bernard, never called or texted. As I stared up at my ceiling, with only the soft glow of the moonlight casting through the blinds I didn't bother to close tonight, I wondered what awful curse was bestowed upon me to have me in this predicament. The lack of job, lack of income and lack of a decent date was finally taking its toll. If I thought balling my eyes out would help, I would have started hours ago. Then the image of the dead guy popped in my head, and I thought to myself; I guess I could be worse off. I could be the dead guy in the alley.

Just as I was trying hard to get the image of the dead guy out of my head and how foolish I had been for not calling the police right away, my phone vibrated with a text. I reached over to my nightstand and saw it was from Bernard. It simply read: He was at the hospital. He's ok, but his Grandmother passed.

Ok. That's plausible. Business emergency, first date. Although I had no idea what he actually did. Family death, second date. What the hell, I'll give the guy a break. It wasn't like I had a better prospect lined up. However, at the first sight of a hairline that wraps behind his ears, pants that are an inch too short or really bad shoes, I would be finding my own reason to escape the date. Then I remembered how sexy his voice was and thought there had to be more than meets the man's voice, there had to be muscle and testosterone in there somewhere.

Just as I laid there smiling, thinking I would text him in the morning as I did not want him thinking I was the type that laid around at night waiting for a text, he texted again with 'I'm so very sorry, another chance?' Well, what can I say. I'm a sucker and an impatient one at that. I quickly texted back before I knew that my fingers had typed in and hit the send button.

'So sorry about your grandma. Call me in the morning. Night.'

I rolled over and closed my eyes thinking that I would accept his third chance at a date, because if things did work out and his looks matched his voice; he would have to have a lot of acceptance of me to match my crazy life.

At nine a.m., my cell phone rang. Gail was still sound asleep, but I had been up since seven a.m., wondering if he was really going to call. I was juiced up on my full pot of coffee I had tossed back and eager to hear his voice. Either way, I felt a revival in my life with a prospect of a decent man. As far as my housing accommodations, I had time before they were to boot my ass out on the street. Gail's mom would always make sure I was fed and my mother, well she would let me move back home, but I knew it would kill me to do so. The first words out of his lips caused tingling in place that only vibrate when you're on a Harley motorcycle or by some man made device. "Good morning, Liza. Did you sleep good?"

Chapter Three

The rest was a blur. Maybe it was his voice; it was a timber voice that stroked my skin as he talked. He had a way with words that made my tummy twitter with just his voice and manners. I accepted another chance at a blind date but asked him to email me a picture of him to my extra Yahoo account so that I knew who to look for as well as his cell phone. Five minutes later, my email dinged. He was hot, and I was thinking he was worth the wait. His dark-brown hair was in a bad boy wild style in need of a haircut. His blue-green eyes had a twinkle to them. His skin was tan and his smile pearly white. However, something about him seemed vaguely familiar, as if I had just seen him or been around him. I dismissed that thought and figured that this time, my mom had done me proud.

He asked me to send a picture of myself back to him, and I panicked. Yes, I was blessed with a healthy rack, but I did not photograph well. Sometimes they photographed like super-charged cantaloupes on my chest under a shirt. Not to mention I had this way of cracking a crooked smile whenever I did try to smile nice for the camera. Eighteen years of school pictures can attest to it, along with a driver's license picture. I woke Gail out of a panic, and she set a plan into motion. Her cousin would be over in an hour to take my picture.

An hour later, Gail was heading home for food, since I had none, and one thirteen-year-old girl, her laptop, camera and photo software made me look like a model. I quickly sent back to Bernard with a note that I just got his email.

Five minutes later, I got a text and email stating same place, same time, Saturday night, which was a week away. I didn't wait five seconds to text and email back. Sounds great. I guess I was as desperate now as I was coming off, just from seeing his picture. A little voice inside my head told me to pull back on the reins, while my fingers typed and texted and the send button was hit. I could only hope my quick response didn't come out as desperate as I really was.

The next morning, my pharmacy called; my birth control pills were on recall. Not that I had a reason to be taking them since the love department was all out of love, but after talking with Bernard and seeing his picture, I was on the path of hopeful and looking towards let's get lucky lane.

I decided to head to the pharmacy to get a replacement pack but was advised to withhold from sex or use backup protection for the next two months.

While waiting in line to get my new prescription, a mom on her cell phone was ignoring her two sons about four and five years of age. They were dancing around, running into people, grabbing single size energy drinks, sticking them up to their mouths and pretending to drink them, then putting back into display. One actually picked his nose and stuck it to the top. The whole time I listened to the whiney mom who looked like she was auditioning for the next reality housewives show, while talking to her friend about her new boyfriend, and she had to find a way to get rid of the rug rats, so she could meet him before her husband - obviously their dad - got home.

Now I am an unemployed entrepreneur who is not sure on how I was going to make my rent that was already overdue, but an idea struck me quick. Guessing on this woman and how well she was dressed and how much she must have spent on her hair extensions, spray tan and Botox and boobs, she would be willing to pay a pretty penny right now for someone to watch the rug rats. I didn't think any parent would want a complete stranger to watch her children while she went and got some, but I saw the opportunity and thought what the heck.

Two hours later, after sitting in the McDonald's playroom with a fresh hundred in my pocket and a table full of half-eaten food and french fries covered in ketchup drying in various places on the table, I was officially doing a job that I did not think I would ever want to do again. Watch somebody else's crazy kids. She was not a minute late, but not a minute early, and she had a glow about her. I wanted that glow, perhaps from Bernard, but I knew I wasn't going to get it anytime soon as the pharmacists told me I needed to wait at least a month before expecting the new birth control pills to work effectively - two months to be safe. After watching these rug rats, I wanted to be safe.

I drove away in desperate need of a shower as anyone might after sitting in the kids play area for two hours. I got to my apartment just in time to see the notice pasted to my door. I was to be evicted in a week if I didn't pay this month plus next month's rent. Out of anger, I crumpled up the paper and tossed it on my desk, which it then promptly rolled off my desk, onto the floor, under a side table and was forgotten about. Just because I clean someone else's house for a living, does not mean I will clean my own, especially if I am to be evicted soon. Which I am beginning to believe is unavoidable.

I quickly showered, dressed in a black tank top, denim cut off shorts and black flip-flops. I swiped my eyes with mascara and tossed my wet hair up on my head with a big black clip. It was old school frumping it style, but I figured I had better hit the drugstore and grab those condoms before my slick easy hundred I just made, had to be used for something better - like rent.

I knew it was presumptuous to buy condoms for a man, but after seeing cheating mom's glow on her face, I didn't want to leave anything to chance that Bernard came unprepared. I took one last look at his photo I had saved as an icon on my desktop, blew him a kiss and figured he was worth the presumption.

The whole way to the drugstore, I jammed out to my car radio. It was old school with a cassette player, but heck; Chuckie had it still working for me. I had the windows down and the image of Bernard and what size he might need in my head. I was so excited thinking about getting a glow that I ran through a red light, and just as I was running it; I noticed the red camera flash from the traffic camera, and I gawked at it through my windshield. I was screwed. I would get a ticket in the mail by month's end, and I knew I had no way to pay for it. Unless, I moved back home with my mom and spent my pittance of saved odd-job money to pay that fine.

Sure Gail and I tossed around the fact that I could move into her parents' house - the tiny three bedroom, oversized detached garage that she grew up in. The same one her hairy large obnoxious brother of thirty-two still lived in because he had dreams of making it big as a monster truck rally circuit hero. Her parents smoked; they had five cats - which I adored but was allergic to, and Gail had only recently moved back home so that she could pay for the tuition to finish the next degree if her nursing school to make her head ER nurse, instead of getting collage loans that had an awful loan rate.

I knew that the inevitable was moving back with my mom, but a small ray of hope raised up, that perhaps, Bernard and I hit it off, and he had a beautiful countryside home with a yellow lab, and a two-car garage. I conjured up his picture again in my head and thought the name fitted the idea, but the man screamed sexy bachelor of the year and Harley motorcycle in a really cool loft. This time my mom pegged the looks' right, but did she investigate the man herself. I made a mental note to call my mom before our date to ask, and also inform her that I would be moving back home in a week.

I listened to my flip-flops smack against the drugstore linoleum floor as I cautiously looked around before stopping in front of the condom section. No silly teens watching me read the condom labels and try to figure out which might be best. Just me, and the condom aisle, reading labels and contemplating size, lubrication and ribbed. Just as I grabbed a box of medium, thinking most men were medium. the throat clearing of a man froze every inch of my body, not to mention my nipples stood up for attention. I casually turned and threw the box of condom's up in the air instead of into my basket. There in front of me was Bernard. That would explain the reaction of my nipples. They only did that when the male testosterone set my female nether regions on fire. This man did it just by standing next to me and clearing his throat, or maybe it was the fact that his picture did not lie. That picture that was still fresh in my mind while picking out a box of condoms.

"Liza? Funny running into you here?" He said my name like it was sex, and I did think it was a bit funny. Did he live around here? If so, maybe his lack of decent job could subtract from the looks department. Then again, if his job wasn't so good, then he would understand my current employment status.

"Bernard! Wow! I'm totally shocked!" No lying there. The tossed up condoms and pointed ta-tas had to be a clear indicator. Pleasantries aside - it was incredible to meet him in person. That familiarity struck me again, but I dismissed it as his sexy as sin smile grabbed my attention. I felt like I was gawking at his six-foot stance to my five-foot six in flats. I liked the way his light blue-green eyes had a sparkle of mischief, which led me to believe I could get a glow after all. His skin was tanned, as if he had a job out in the sun or was just an outdoor active kind of guy. His short brown hair was high and tight, unlike the picture he sent me of a bad boy in need of a haircut. However, either way, he was still sexy as hell. I would put him in as a running mate with top ten sexiest male of the year but without the young man looks, more a man who had some distinguishing lines on his face. Sexy lines at that.

He had put the medium condoms back and ever so casually grabbed the large size and slid the box into my basket. I looked down to the floor and back up to him and couldn't say a word. But he did. "That is unless those aren't for me, then you can go with the medium size, but I would wait for the large, because I've been told the wait is worth it."

Gulp. Ok. He was a bit pretentious in assuming but also what guy didn't think he wasn't worth the wait. However, the large factor got me giddy, and I knew from just standing in front of him, with the way my body was reacting, that he was deserving of the wait.

Without a moment too soon, he leaned in for a kiss on my cheek and told me he was looking forward to Saturday. I must have stood there for five minutes gawking after I hoped a soft 'see ya then' exited my lips. I wasn't even sure if he heard me. However, the kiss he laid upon my cheek left a nice sensual feeling that moments later I wasn't even aware I was still rubbing my cheek until the cashier asked me if something was wrong with my face.

The rest of the week leading up to date night went fast, although I never called my mom to ask questions about Bernard. I had a busy week, dog walking every day, cleaned house and interviewed at two new jobs that Gail set me up for. One was for the Poop Pump House Station; they maintained the park's porta potties. The other was for Long John Joe' Hotdog cart. The hot dog cart was a shoe in but a temp job with long weekends outside the baseball field starting the week after next weekend. The poop pump house wanted a contract signed that I would guarantee them I wouldn't quit in the first month, or they could garnish my wages for the entire pay. I went with the Hot dog cart - because he finally agreed to pay cash, and if I found something better and quit on Long John Joe, I wouldn't feel bad since he made several insinuations about how long his hot dog is and how nicely it would fit in my buns. The entire interview his eyes never left my breasts.

I was over the being followed part, but I did come home to my place being unlocked. I distinctly remembered locking it, so I made a quick sweep and noticed nothing out of place. However, my laptop was up with the desktop picture of Bernard instead of being on my singing cat screen saver that Gail had gotten me for Christmas.

That was odd. It was as if someone was just on my computer. I glanced around at my sparse availability of slim pickings for someone to steal and laughed internally. There wasn't much. I wasn't a jewelry gal; I didn't collect electronic gadgets, and unless they wanted to steal my past-due notices and pay them for me, they would walk away empty handed. Well, unless you could consider an outdated four-year-old laptop on its last leg, a steal, but then again, it wasn't worth the dime they might get for stealing it. If anything, they might come back and leave me some money. All my investments into shoes were sold on eBay two months ago to make rent back then.

I locked my door and closed my laptop. I decided it was time to call my mom. Three hours later, and more of a one-way conversation on her part, I never did find out how Bernard and her met, or if she knew what he did for a living, but I did find out that I could not move into my moms. She had rented her house out and bought an RV. She was going to hit the road by herself; she joined a gang of single like-minded women who travel about the country. Since she worked from her laptop at home, she figured she could work on the road wherever the RV was parked. I internally laughed thinking how she will finally have to break down and get a cell phone. All I heard about was the RV and how I should make this Bernard thing work, so I might be able to move in with him. It was looking like I would be crashing on Gail's trundle bed from her youth days.

I knew Gail; she loved me, but she wasn't giving up her new twin mattress she just bought, and that trundle pullout bed, on the white wrought iron frame, saw many a sleep overs from me. It had a broken spring from us jumping on the mattress back in sixth grade.

Tonight was the date with Bernard, and I was up to a total of $275 in my bank. After the condoms and a box of chocolate-chip cookies with a gallon of milk, I was nowhere closer to having enough for last month and this month's rent. I had made a walk thru on my apartment and saw not much else worth cash for selling unless you account for my clothes, and that is where I draw the line. I would be homeless, but fashionable. However, I didn't want my eviction to put a damper on my date. I would worry about that on the day after my date, the day I knew I would have to use that $275 to rent a UHaul, get a storage unit and pack only a suitcase of clothes to take to Gail's.

The site of Bernard walking in five minutes late to the restaurant was enough to make up for the tense anxiety I had felt the last five minutes sitting alone at the table. His blue-green eyes twinkled as his larger than life take-charge walk headed my way. His tanned skinned screamed out for me to touch, and I felt myself blush. I leaned to the side of my chair, with my legs crossed at my ankles in my last pair of black Jimmy Choo heels which I would not get rid of even if I was on my last dime. I looked down at my shoes and then up to him with a smile in my eyes. The black slinky low-cut dress was not a mistake tonight, because tonight, I was going for the glow!

He pulled his chair out and sat down, all while smiling at me. Then he leaned in and kissed my cheek. "You look ravishing tonight." Gulp.

"You clean up rather handsome yourself." Remembering how incredible he looked in his faded jeans and seen more days than it should tee shirt at the pharmacy the other day. However, at that moment, I had not been thinking about his clothes, just the size of condoms he had dropped in my basket.

"Shall we start with a glass of red wine?" He motioned to the waiter who had been ignoring me since I had sat down, and then the waiter was there in two seconds. He ordered a bottle of the house red wine and two waters. Then he turned to me and smiled while I held my breath.

When I finally felt like I could breathe, I asked the one question that had been nagging on my brain all night. "How exactly did you meet my mother and please don't hold her against me?" A nervous laughter escaped my lips before I even had time to consider what I had just said sounded rather harsh against my mother.

He quickly turned it back to me. "Well what did your mother say? That is about meeting me and setting up our date?" He flashed me his wicked as sin sexy smile, and I bubbled over with giggly laughter. I was a nervous wreck. So here I go.

"Well. You are blind date number five that my mother has set up. I guess she's on a mission to marry me off, not that I am looking to get married, or have kids for that fact. I mean it's not like I don't have it in the cards for the future, but it is not something I expect out of you. Not to say that you don't want to once you get to know me..." I took a deep inhalation of breath and smiled. "Sorry. I babble when I am nervous."

"That's ok." He reassured me as he reached for my hand. Just then the waiter came with our wine and we both took a huge drink that resulted in half the wine consumed out of our glass. So maybe, he was a bit nervous as well. His looks have him on a pedestal but there could be issues lurking beneath that sexy exterior.

I started back to his original question. "My mom said you met at Sal's butcher shop down off Broadway?"

"Yes." He smiled and went back to rubbing my hand with his thumb while holding it.

"That she was a bit forward about asking for me. About having a date with me that is. But then you called her for tea and looked at a scrapbook of me, and the two of you set up the first date."

"Is that so." He laughed lightly. "I don't drink tea." Then he held his hand up to his ear for a second and cleared his throat. "I mean. Your mom offered, but I don't drink tea. I don't remember the scrapbook."

I laughed nervously. "Oh well, that's good. Because I was petrified, she might have broken out with the one she made of me back in middle school. Those were the toughest years of my life. My face was like a polka dot convention on a daily basis, braces, and I thought I could cut my own hair once. That took a year to grow out." I laughed again and he just looked at me like I was something a man wants to look at, so I looked away while drinking another sip of my wine.

"So tell me Bernard. What is it that you do for a living?"

He smiled. "Well, what did your mom say?" That was odd. It was like he didn't remember any part of their original conversation. I decided it could be his nerves, and he was just better at hiding it then me by avoiding or redirecting questions.

"Well. She didn't. I guess on blind dates one through four she qualified them financially first, which with each one I met, I guessed that either my mom was in dire need of eyeglasses or the looks department just didn't count."

"Well, does it?" He took a sip of wine.

I felt dreamy in just the way his voice stroked my skin. "Does it what?" I was flustered.

"Does it matter what someone looks like?" He asked with a bit of questioning tone that made me think he wasn't a shallow man when it came to looks. It was substance first, then looks. This could be good, although, I was lacking substance lately with no job and no social life, and yet my looks were still doing pretty dang good.

I took another quick sip of wine before answering, then no sooner did I set my glass down, he refilled my glass with wine. "I would say that looks aren't top of my list with dating, but I won't lie that the first four blind dates my mom picked out were men that I don't think I would have accepted dates with. Not to be shallow but they all seemed a bit too old for me. If you knew my mom, you would understand." I mentally thought of all the years my mom dated older men, too old if you ask me, however her last one was a bit too young.

"I see. Well, from what I remember, your mom seemed really pleasant. It's been a crazy week, so I'm not sure I remember too much about her."

"Gosh. That's right. I am so sorry about your grandma. How tragic. Is there a funeral planned soon? Can I do anything?"

He took a deep breath and looked away then when he looked back to me and smiled with his wickedly handsome aren't you glad you got the large size condom smile; I melted with his reply. "You are so sweet to ask."

The night went on with him constantly turning the conversation back to me. Asking if anything interesting has happened to me lately. If I had any unusual job prospects. So I told him about the recycle line trash job, the poop pump house job, the hot dog cart job I was to start next weekend, and that I had been doing housecleaning and dog walking for cash.

A comment he said in a rather snarky tone got a weird look out of me. "You are quite the entrepreneur looking for cash jobs then?" It was as if it was a question and admittance statement all in one, which once I gave him an awkward look, he quickly changed his tone.

"Oh, listen to me. That sounded wrong. I've got the most beautiful woman in the place sitting across from and all I can think about is having dessert." He whipped out all the guns, with a sexy smile, an eye glance that melted me and a gentle touch with his hand stroking the top of mine that was holding my wine glass.

Gulp. That's right gals. Mr. wickedly sexy just insinuated, and if I'm not mistaken, I will get that glow tonight!

Chapter Four

Things got steamy fast. Bernard seemed just as excited at the fact that I bought condoms as I was. We touched with our hands and feet, drank three more glasses of red wine with dinner, and he continued to ask an awful lot of questions. Particularly, about the day he didn't make it to the cafe. Questions like did I stay and eat at the cafe? Did I walk around and do some shopping? What did I wear? Perhaps he was just curious and trying to make up for his guilt about not making it; however, it seemed odd, and I thought most men liked to get over and move on after they make a mistake. Not talk about it.

Sitting in front of sexy as sin Bernard made me temporarily forget all about the dead man, and the fact that my DNA was probably on his body with my luck, not to mention those incredible cute wedged sandals I tossed in the dumpster blocks away. However, everything I had forgotten was a small blur to me now as I sat across the table from Mr. very hot and sexy Bernard.

After a lovely dinner with Bernard at the restaurant, he walked me to my car, where we kissed, and then kissed again. After that, our hands went places, and our bodies went places, and before I knew it, he was insisting on driving me back to my place in my car. I didn't ask or question, I just remembered the rug rat's mom glow and replied a breathy yes while visions of sugar plums danced in my head.

I talked the entire time as he drove me as I had this incredible wine buzz going on. That or I was thinking about the glow from this man who knew how to make my engine purr. As we were about two blocks away, I turned to him in a giddy drunken stupor while a nice orchestrated humming to my body was taking place and asked a simple question? "How did you know where I lived?"

However, he didn't answer. Just as we pulled in front, there was a crowd of people going through a huge pile of stuff out on the lawn in front of my apartment building, and it was my stuff. I jumped out, and grabbed things out of people's hands screaming at them, asking them if they had any morale's or decency. In the meantime, the apartment management was hauling the rest of the stuff out of my place. So much for handling my problems later. The old couple, from up the street, was outside my building watching me while shaking their heads in shame. There went my cash \- dog walking business. And just when two of their other neighbors started to pay me to walk their dogs with Sampson and Delilah. Ugh.

As my world was spinning in a circle, and I felt flustered and blurry, I didn't have time to notice. Bernard flashed a badge, dispersed the crowd and was on his cell phone. I sat in my cute denim overstuffed chair they had plopped on the lawn and began to cry. Minutes later, Bernard was off his phone consoling me and flashing his badge at anyone who walked by that attempted to take something. Two cop cars showed up; the apartment management continued to unload my belongings. Now they were down to black trash bags.

A black truck and a small towable UHaul showed up half-hour later and two seriously mean looking guys went about loading my stuff up into the UHaul. They fit almost everything in and what didn't fit they put in the back of the truck or filled the back of my car.

Bernard talked to the police, and they left. He was very quiet as he helped me into my car, passenger side. I didn't have it in me to ask any questions and figured the badge he flashed put him in some type of job with the police.

We followed the truck and UHaul to a storage unit where the two guys and Bernard unloaded everything. I sat in my car crying like a baby gasping for air. Why did I always think that putting things off was better than handling it now?

At one point, my tears subsided, and I looked through my windshield and saw Bernard, who was my hero. He was sexy as hell and could kiss an orgasm out of you, but he had a look on his face at this very moment that I could not read. It was a cop's face. And a FBI cop face to boot. That was all I got out of our short conversation on the drive to the storage unit. I didn't really care what his job was, I just was thankful that he did everything he did.

I began to find a calm as I watched him move and lift things. His physique of at least six feet with broad shoulders and bulging biceps were begging to rip through his white dress shirt he was wearing. The red and blue striped tie he wore to dinner had long been taken off and laid on the seat next to me. I looked down at it and began wrapping the silky tie in my hands as I looked back out to watch a man in motion that was making my train tunnel ready for operation. Maybe I could still get the glow tonight and maybe Bernard would want to operate his train all night long in hopes of helping me forget.

All of the apartment ousting was a blur as he came around to my passenger door with a sexy as sin smile, opened the door, knelt down before me and let out a huge sigh. "Well, Missy. You are under arrest for the murder of Bernard Gooth. You have the right to remain silent...." The rest was a distortion. Wasn't he Bernard? And, how did he know my mom called my missy? Whatever calm I had just found quickly retreated into the far recesses of my tunnel and ain't no train going to be operating anytime soon.

Well, shit. Here I was thinking I was going to get a glow one minute. The way he kissed, I was sure of it. Now, I am under arrest. Through everything he was saying, I did hear that he would drive me to the station where I would be booked, that he would park my car at a lot downtown and pay for it until I made bail - like that was going to happen. The Bernard I thought I knew was actually Chase Downing, FBI agent in command of the investigation to Bernard, who was a wealthy businessman who had been dealing guns with Russians. How the hell did my mom find this guy?

Down at the station, when I finally asked why I was being arrested for the death of Bernard; he flashed a picture of me standing in front of the dead guy with my hand on him. He also showed me a picture of a bloody knife that apparently matched a set that was in my processions. They were discovered while putting my stuff into the storage unit, conveniently out in the open when they were loading up into the UHaul. He had to call his boss, who then called him back and told him he had to arrest me. They would run my prints. Which at this point, I knew I had touched the very knife that was stabbed in the man's chest. It was the shiny object that caught my attention under his loose dark jacket. When I first ran from the scene, I didn't remember touching it, but since moments of that night came flashing back to me in my sleep, I distinctly remembered the knife now and worse, touching it.

I also remembered thinking back that a man wearing a dark heavy looking coat on a warm summer evening seemed odd, but then, so did me asking a moaning man if he needed help, when he wasn't even moaning. He was already dead. The big question is how the hell my knife from my place matched the same type of knife as the murder weapon was beyond me. I mean I noticed a missing knife; I think. It's not like I cook or had food to cook recently so this whole knife mess was spinning around in my brain while I stared at the picture of the dead man. Bernard Gooth.

I looked guilty, by what they were saying. I felt guilty, even though I wasn't.

So there you have it. I have been searched, finger printed, a very attractive picture of me taken without waterproof mascara, and I was sitting in a holding cell until morning when the judge would announce bail. My one phone call to my mom was a misdialed disconnected number. I didn't get a chance to call again.

Around midnight, the guard opened the door and led me out quietly, down a long hallway to a meeting room with a double glass mirrored window in it. A tired and upset looking Bernard, real name Chase Downing, sat at the table with a cup of coffee and a very weak smile on his face.

"Care to tell me what you know." He asked with that wicked sexy smile, but right now, it wasn't knocking on heaven's door if you know what I mean.

I looked at him with a confused look. "What I know is my mother set me up on a blind date. On the way there, I got a small rock in my shoe and leaned against a wall to take the pebble out. That is when I noticed a man leaning over on the other side of a dumpster. He was nicely dressed. I asked 'hey mister you ok' and he said nothing. So I walked over and lifted his head, and that is when I saw the dead guy."

"Bernard?"

"Yes but I didn't know he was Bernard."

"I figured. When you took my apology call the next day, along with another date which failed due to the fact we thought you weren't the killer, just had this picture of you screaming from the security camera across the street. Then we followed you through the security camera system to see you dump something in the trash." He held up my cute wedged sandals with dried blood in an evidence bag.

"Then on the second date we tracked you to a gas station where some big dumb looking oaf with a huge truck picked you up. His truck engine caused the camera to shake and loose connection. We lost you from there. We thought for sure you might contact the person you are working for when Bernard didn't show again. That all this blind date stuff was more a front for a business meeting."

As smart as I could, I replied. "Well then, if you saw me approach Bernard, then you knew I didn't kill him."

He showed me footage on a small DVD player that showed a woman about my size, with a wig of hair about like mine approaching Bernard in the alley where he looked nervous as hell. She kissed him then pulled back, and stabbed a knife in him. She turned and went into the backdoor of the cafe, never once showing her face on camera. Ten minutes later, I walked into view with different attire than the woman. They didn't fully suspect me until they saw the knife from the crime scene matched a set in my stuff, not to mention the eight times I drove back and forth around the crime scene in my car. Right now, they were going through my computer and there was evidence there as well that I accepted a money transfer of twenty thousand dollars to my bank account.

He slid the bloody knife in an evidence bag forward and asked if I had seen the knife before. I had. It was part of my set, or at least looked like part of it. My mother had mentioned she got both sets of our knives sharpened at this butcher shop where a really cute butcher worked. She mentioned all this when she dropped off my set of knives. The butcher was having a two for one special on knife sharpening if you bought a rump roast. She must have forgotten to check that all the knives were given back. My set matched hers almost identical. The set she bought herself to replace this old set she gave me, had a small difference. It all seemed very confusing, but I knew one thing for sure; I didn't kill Bernard. The butcher must have done it. He must have set me up somehow. My mother had tried to set me up on a date with him, and I socially declined.

So, I didn't say a word. I looked at the potential man, I spent my hard-earned babysitting money on condoms for, in the hope that we would be having sex this very moment - a quarter passed midnight. Instead, I was locked up and awaiting a judge and bail. I would save what I know for my attorney. Which I could not afford unless that twenty grand somebody just dropped in my bank account didn't mind me using. I doubted that.

We sat quietly for ten minutes, then he spoke. "I just wanted you to know I was the first one to speak up and say that I didn't think you were the killer. However, right now, it's not looking good. I figured if you talked to me, then I might be able to help with finding the real killer or at least get you a lesser charge with a guilty plea. Did he hurt you? Did he frame you with illegal gun sales? Was it a deal gone bad? Who paid you to kill him? Who is the real trouble and muscle behind this operation?"

His questions went on like a bad detective crime show on TV; the only part I did not like about this was I was the suspect. Otherwise, if it was a real show, I would have found all this interesting, as long as I wasn't the suspect. I would have guessed who did it before the show was over.

Instead of answering any more questions, I drank the bad black coffee and knew that I might be eating and drinking state issued food and coffee from a jail cell until my court hearing. With the way evidence was stacking up, much longer than that.

Chase left me shortly after he realized I wasn't going to talk. He left me with a twinge of guilt that I didn't trust him to handle this, to solve the case. My nipples, however, they perked up to tips as high as Mt. Everest when Chase had initially walked into the room and only now that I was sitting in my jail cell alone, to think, were they dwindling back to soft saggy tips yearning for his touch one more time.

I laid on the one-inch foam, covered in hard plastic, bedding. I had the state issue blanket under me, my pillow under my head and my arms folded with my hands holding the back of my head. I laid staring at the dark ceiling in my bright orange county jail attire, which, by the way, was not a color I carried well, nor did I have anything this bright orange in my closet. I'm thinking after all this is over, I won't be buying any bright orange to wear on my attire to remember this little trip down memory lane. It was a memory best forgotten, as soon as it was over. However, since I was still living it, I laid there thinking to myself that Chase was the kind of man I had been looking for, and I just blew my one shot by checking on a stranger. Then again, if I hadn't checked on Bernard aka stranger, then I wouldn't have met Chase. After that kiss at the restaurant, I knew something was there. I just needed to get my head in the game and get this all figured out so that perhaps, if Chase had interest, which his kiss said he did, then maybe we could go out on a real date and laugh about this. Then, he could give me a well-deserved glow that I desperately needed.

The next morning at my bond hearing, the following words stuck like a knife through my heart. "Bail set at fifty thousand dollars."

I froze. There was no way. My mom, Gail and Chuckie, all stood there looking helpless from the courtroom. I shrugged my shoulders and hung them low as I walked out with my head down with a thought of how I needed to get used to my new orange attire. The wood floor boards stared back at me as the bailiff began walking me back to where I needed to be locked up. I heard a familiar throat clearing and looked up into Chase's eyes. He got the bailiff to give us a second.

"Give me something, anything to help you out here. What they found on your laptop does not look good." His tone actually held a note of care and concern along with some sympathy. His eyes pleaded with me, and a defense mechanism kicked in thinking to myself. Damn he is good. He should have been an actor. It's a much safer job, and he wouldn't have thrown my ass in jail. He was going to owe me good for this because I knew I was innocent. How I was going to prove that, was beyond me.

I looked at him with part disgust and part yearning. It was a total conundrum feeling that caused an ache in my belly. I knew that ache wasn't from eating jail cell food, that I had not touched, yet. However, the longer I was in here, the less I knew I could starve myself. So I looked away as I answered him in a dry tone. "The day I bought the condoms, somebody had gotten into my apartment. My laptop was up and running, and my door unlocked. That was it. That is all I've got."

"Who might have set you up?" He was reaching for information I did not have.

I turned back to look at him again, knowing that just looking at him made me ache for his touch. "I have no idea. I've never held a gun in my hand; no less sold one." Now my dry tone was snarky and defensive.

"Is someone going to make bail for you?" At least, he went back to sounding concerned.

"I doubt it." I had my back to him as I said it, and I didn't want to look into his eyes anymore. The care and concern he was showing was all just a lie.

"If you think of anything have the jail call me, otherwise we will be back to question you some more, later this week." Now he was back in FBI mode. Not a single note of caring concern exited those lips.

I turned back to him with a look of go uck yourself, only I used the F before the word in my glare. Snidely as I could, I replied. "Looking forward to it."

Well, I didn't have to wait for bail to be posted to have Chase's smiling face in front of mine. However, there were the gray metal cylinder bars that sat between us as he looked at me with sympathy. I, on the other hand, had been bawling my eyes out for the last two days. I couldn't eat the jail food, didn't want to shower with all the other jail mates, and I definitely hadn't done my hair or makeup. I looked worse for wear. Somehow though, Chase's sensual smile of sympathy slowly warmed my heart and made me realize that I craved any warmth or attention I could get at the moment. That my life had officially hit rock bottom, and I was the street-corner beggar looking for a dime or donation for a coffee.

"Eliza..." His smooth timber voice said my name and left it hanging in the air. I had stood up the minute he came standing in front of the jail cell, but I couldn't get myself to walk any closer to him. He said it again with a hand motion for me to come towards him "Eliza. Come here."

It took less than a second. Ok, I'm a smuck. I was still reeling from the sexual attraction between us and if the bright orange jumpsuit wasn't so big, you would see my nipples were traders, and I was aroused with just him standing there saying my name. I leaned into his face and smiled. I let his name roll softly off my tongue as if I just had an orgasm, from him. "Chase." I did a good job of sounding breathy and sexy, but I think my looks caused him to take a step back and shake his head.

"Bail hasn't been paid for you, but we need your assistance."

I scrunched my eyebrows together, pursed my lips, blew out a puff of air and turned away while tapping my foot. Imagine a toddler with an attitude at that moment, then imagine me. However, my damn nipples were still hard from Chase's presence, so I crossed my arms in front with the palms of my hands pressed over my nipples.

His voice went to that authoritative FBI cop voice, the one that spoke in demands. "Here's the deal. You are coming with me. I have to get you cleaned up and ready for Bernard's funeral. You will attend his funeral as a friend and I will be incognito so that I can scan the crowd for possible suspects."

I turned and glared at him with my arms still crossed, and my nipples covered. "I thought I was your suspect?"

He let out an exasperated puff of air. "You are. I mean the FBI has you in here as a suspect, but you have not been charged with the actual murder. I'm going with my gut here. I think that you can draw out the real killer or at least get the person that is higher up in all this. You are just one small piece in this puzzle I am trying to solve. Whether you actually killed Bernard behind that cafe or not, is yet to be solved, but I don't want to miss out on his funeral today, and I think you could be quintessential to some clues I am looking for."

"So wait a minute. I thought I was being charge. You read me my rights. Does this mean you have other suspects, and I'm going to be let go?" I asked with a squeak to my voice as I felt it failing me due to all the emotion that was building up inside me. Raw emotion, that had to do with how I felt around Chase, how my life was all screwed up and the pivotal fact that I did not commit the crime, therefore, I should not be doing the time.

"You are the suspect if I don't get some more information on the case. Even if you did kill Bernard..." His voice was low and mean, but I felt a triumphant need to interrupt him.

"Which I did not!" I practically screamed.

"You are only a small part in this." He finished his sentence in that low cop like voice as if I had never interrupted him. It was as if I couldn't phase him one bit and that made me feel a sense of defeat. I slumped my shoulders and looked away.

I meekly got out the two-letter word. "Ok." I wasn't sure if I had a choice. Nonetheless, going with Chase to the funeral most likely meant I could get a few seconds of freedom, fresh air, a nice long... hot shower and a decent meal before heading back to this five by seven-foot cage that should only be meant for untamed monkeys. That wasn't me.

"Liza?" This time he shortened my name to what Gail always called me and what I had told Bernard, or in this case \- him, to call me. He said it with a sexual note but also as an open-ended question as to whether or not I was willing to do this. The same sexual note he used at the store when I bought the condoms. This time when I looked up into his gorgeous eyes and saw that glimmer of apology I realized, maybe he was trying to help me. Perhaps he didn't think I was guilty after all and that put him back in the hero category.

I whispered it with a smile and let the words roll off my lips. "Ok."

Then he shouted over his right shoulder. "Guard! Open cell block 252." Then he looked at me and smiled. A smile that ate me up and shivered my timbers. My nipples couldn't have poked any harder as the sound of the cell block door opened with a remote operation and Chase's hand guided to my back and escorted me out of this hell hole.

Chapter Five

I did not know what to expect when we pulled up in front of the $59.99 Hotel. I gulped hard and thought about Chase and me in a motel room together. Because, any place that went solely on the name of $59.99 was not a hotel but a motel. There is a difference.

His voice brought me back to reality when he held up a bag. "I stopped at the department store and had the sales clerk pick you out something nice to wear to the funeral. I hope the sizes are right."

I gulped hard as I accepted the bag. I would have preferred to wear what I had worn to our date that dastardly night, not what some guy picked out for me to wear. My date night - I might get a glow - dress is what they gave me to put back on at the jail. I looked down at myself, and this outfit screamed sex, but instead of a woman with an hours' worth of hair and makeup, I looked like a meth junkie.

"What about my hair and makeup?"

"I had her toss in some makeup and jewelry. The hotel should have shampoo. What else do you need?"

God he was such a man. I need my metal round roller brush with ionizer hairdryer. I needed my hair products and not just a hotel bottle of sample size crappy shampoo. I needed a razor, because these hairy legs were looking monstrous. I needed a really good orgasm to make me forget this whole ordeal and a set of a strong man's arms holding me telling me this is all going to be ok. Instead, I started to cry.

"Geez Liza. What is it now?"

I turned to him with quivering lips and dripping tears. I wanted him to hold me and tell me it would all be all right. I wanted to go home, although I don't have one right now. I wanted a job, a life, and a man in my life and that wasn't so much for a girl to want. Instead of stating all that, I blurted out. "I need more than a sample bottle of shampoo to look good." Then I turned back away and started crying profusely that I think I drained all the testosterone out of the four-door FBI black cruiser we were sitting in, in the Motel parking lot.

"Ok. Ok." He stated that two-letter word over and over while rubbing my shoulder and neck until I finally stopped crying. My nipples, however, they poked out like the traders they are. All excited from his touch and not remembering he put me here in the first place.

"Listen. Let's drive over to the corner drugstore. You pick up what you need, and then we've got less than three hours to get to this funeral."

"Ok." It was me, only a meek sound of me that said the word. I felt his hand remove from my neck, and I missed it. I heard the car start up, and I tried wiping my snot and tears with anything I could on my body, which was my date night dress.

As the car was parked and turned off, I looked straight ahead and spoke with a bit of emotion to my voice. Ok, a lot of emotion, dramatic at that. "I'm not going in there looking like this. There is no way in hell I am going out in public."

"Then how are you going to get what you need?"

"I'll make you a list." I said it so admittedly I didn't think that there would be any other way.

"Really? Because I have never bought one single female product in my life, and you want me to go in there with a list. I have four brothers and no female cousins. We are a family built of male offspring. Besides. You have been entrusted to my care, and I can't leave you out of my site."

I didn't doubt the family of male testosterone part. I guess I had to deal with the fact that I looked like a meth addict in a date night dress. I turned and looked into his back seat and saw his gym bag. "What have you got in there?"

"What? That? That's my gym bag. I was going to go work out after I took you back to the jail, after the funeral."

That made me shed a few tears and puff a few breaths. I forgot there was a going back after all this was over. Maybe I should play this all out for everything that I could.

"Geez-it's!" I knew he wanted to say the other word but ever since my lawyer stated I was a good little Catholic girl at my bail hearing; I hadn't heard any cuss words out of his mouth like I did the night he rambled on and on, cussing like a rotten child while unloading my crap to the storage unit with his buddies. I guess he also forgot the condoms I bought in his size, the kiss and make-out session after dinner and the drive home in hopes of a glow. I think he forgot all that and stopped cussing in my presence because he actually believed the crap the state hired attorney told the judge to help set my bail lower. That or he was just being polite, and I was over thinking it.

I turned back forward and looked straight ahead. I took a few deep breaths. "You wouldn't happen to have a tee shirt and gym shorts in there with a ball cap I could borrow?"

I watched him reach back and grab the bag. He unzipped it and riffled through. "Got a clean shirt. It's gonna be big on you. Shorts but they wouldn't even stay on you as soon as you walked. I think there's an FBI hat on the floor back there."

I turned and unbuckled myself. I leaned over the seat and found the hat. I turned back and sat back in my seat. I grabbed the tee shirt in his hand and saw the lust on his face. So I had a nice ass when I bent over. It didn't match my hair or makeup right now, but in an hour or two - it would.

I slipped the large gray FBI tee shirt over my date night dress. I finger combed my hair and pulled it into a ponytail and stuffed my hair through the hole by the cap adjustment strap in the back of the FBI hat. I looked like I was ready for a raid, only the good guy this time, not the bad one.

"Sexy." His voice caught me off guard, and I turned to see that his FBI garb had just turned a smile on his face that said he thought sexy. That feeling in itself gave me enough courage to motor on into the corner drug store and get me my much-needed beauty products.

One hundred and thirty two dollars later, a grimace from Chase as he swiped his personal credit card, and I was ready to get back to the Motel slash Hotel and make myself gorgeous for this funeral. If I was going to have only a few hours of freedom until this case was solved, today was going to be it.

The motel lacked in decor and cleanliness what it didn't charge in price. "Whelp, you get what you pay for." I joked as I looked around the room with Chase to my back. I heard a large plop on the bed, and the TV went on. I turned to see him look sexy as sin. Arm behind his head, legs outstretched, hand in remote out straight towards the TV, and his muscular broad shoulders were tight under the dark navy shirt he was wearing. He glanced my way and smiled.

"Chop. Chop. Princess. You need to get ready with time for me to swing by my place and put on a suit for this funeral. We've wasted an hour so... get going."

I grabbed all of my bags and headed into the shower. I let the shower run while I took everything out of the bags and dumped them on the sink counter top area, which was filthy. I pulled the trash can out from under the sink and tossed my date night dress in it. I wasn't going to be needing this where I'd be spending the next ten to fifteen years of my life if they accused me of being an accomplice. I knew I didn't kill Bernard, so I knew I wouldn't be successfully charged with that. Or would I?

That thought caused me to go into full-blown tears. I stepped into the shower and stood there for at least five minutes letting myself have a really good cry. It took me another fifteen to shampoo, condition and shave my legs. All right, I admit I was enjoying the hot shower. I had spent the last two minutes just standing there under the hot water, letting it pour over the front of my body while I had my hands up in a praying sign in front of me and a mental thought to God.

"What the hell, Liza?" His voice yelled out as a rush of cold air came in as the shower curtain was brushed aside. "Sorry." He closed the curtain. "You're taking so damn long I thought..." He never finished that sentence. What did he think? That I slit my wrist or hung myself? That wasn't my style. I'd rather rot in jail for the next decade and then start this whole messy life all over again, from scratch.

"Sorry." I meekly let out. "I was just enjoying the hot shower."

His response sounded sincere. "Sorry. I called out your name several times. Sorry for rushing in on you... and the cussing. I can understand enjoying the shower. Try to hurry it up. I need to still swing by my place."

I turned the shower off and then a small Motel white towel appeared behind the curtain from his strong hand. I took the measly small size thing and tried to wrap it around me. "Uhm. Chase? This towel isn't that big. Mind leaving me alone?"

I heard the door close, and I opened the shower curtain. The steam of my shower had fogged up the mirror, even though in the short time Chase had opened the door, he let some of the hot steamy air out. I took my hand and swiped the mirror with it. The moisture beaded up and cleared away where I had swiped my hand. I looked into the mirror, and I looked fifty percent more normal. Thank goodness. The rose color in my cheeks from the hot water gave me life. The wetness of my hair took away the look I had before. I still had a look of someone who was sad, so I smiled at myself and winked to my reflection in the mirror. "Let's get you all sexed up and go find you the killer."

Because at that particular moment, Chase may have thought, he was having me help him, but I was going to help myself and find out who framed me and what I had gotten myself into with just a blind date arrangement through my mother.

As we pulled up to Chase's average looking apartment complex and parked his car, I heard him clear his throat. "You look really nice, by the way." Those were the first seven words he had spoken to me since he barged into the shower on me.

Ever since I stepped out he would never look me in the eyes, he would look away. He silently grabbed all my stuff into a motel trash bag and guided me out, leaving the key on the dresser.

He was silent during the ride and silent until we parked. Instead of saying anything back, my stomach growled, and I just remembered how hungry I was.

We got out of the car in silence and headed up the flight of stairs to his place. As soon as he unlocked it, he turned to me and smiled. "Sorry. It's a mess. I could seriously use a maid. I might have a protein bar on the cabinet otherwise help yourself. I'll be back out in five."

He was gone, and I was standing there staring at his place. It was the A typical bachelor pad. Large-screen TV, leather couch, coffee table full of... what the heck is that a porn magazine? What a slut. I glanced over to my right and saw a small kitchen. It looked like no one ever cooked in the kitchen. I figured I would eat a protein bar and grab a glass of ice water, and then hope like heck this was a long catholic funeral with a lot of food. I wasn't a practicing Catholic but hey, we're good to go on long services and lots of food. Both of which would keep me away from going back to jail too quick.

Less than five minutes later, I heard his throat clear. I turned to see Chase standing there in a navy men's dress suit, white dress shirt, dark tie and I was officially turned on in every region of my body. It wasn't just my nipples poking through the simple black funeral dress I had on, but between my limbs, there was a neither region that was starting to glow on its own with a beacon light. I let his name roll off my lips like a sexified compliment. "Chase." I knew I had conveyed my appreciation when he looked coyly down at himself and back up with a smile that said thanks.

We stood there looking at each other for what felt like a lifetime. Then he took the steps forward towards me and grabbed a piece of lent off me. I looked up into his face when he looked down at me, I smiled. Then before I could say, do anything or move, his lips dropped to mine. I felt the sweep of his hand wrap up in my freshly blown hair. I felt the warmth of his palm heat up the side of my face. His lips slowly pursued me in the kiss and gently opened my mouth until our tongues began to touch and our moans filled the air. His other hand gently swept up the side of my body to my nipples and brushed his finger over my pointed traders. I moaned louder and melted my body to his, letting my arms wrap around him one by one.

Then, just as quick as the kiss started, he pulled away, practically jumping back and wiped our kiss off with his hand. I wanted to cry but took a deep breath and turned away.

"God, Liza. I am sorry. Shit. That can't happen. I'm not even supposed to let you out of jail, let alone have you see this place..." Then his voice trailed off, and I felt my defense go up a notch.

"Let's go, Chase. Times a wasting and I want to find this killer as much as you do."

Half an hour later we were in the lord's house, singing praise songs and listening to mourners cry over the death of a man I never met, except for the fact he had already passed on to the afterlife when I first saw him. Because when I found him dead in the alleyway, he was already dead, and I was mentally lost. I looked up, prayed to God and to Bernard if his soul was still drifting in and out of his own funeral that he lead me to his killer and help me in any way that he could. Then I felt a hand reach over and squeeze mine. I looked at it and then to Chase, then I pulled my hand away and rubbed it like he hurt me. Which he had. When he wiped our kiss off and acted childish about the sexual attraction between us, I was hurt. Hell, I was hurt the minute he arrested me at the storage unit. However, that wasn't going to stop me from playing this all out like a Hollywood actress and search out my killer. I was going to peruse the attendees of this funeral at the burial site and the funeral reception. Then I was going back to jail, making notes, and as soon as I got a lawyer, I was going to give them everything I got.

Only one problem. As soon as the funeral was over, the priest announced that only immediate family was invited to the burial and that no reception was planned for after. To go in peace. Ugh!!! There went my free overflowing plate of Catholic funeral food, my moment of conversing with adults who weren't in jail for reasons they should be in jail, my opportunity to search and talk with every illegal looking gun runner I could find, in hopes of saving my ass.

I made Chase let me stand on the outer edges of the church by the bush for an hour while I scanned the crowd until a fifteen-minute stretch where not one more person walked out but two choir boys who now looked like thugs without their church robes on, and hair styled nicely. Now they were in skater jeans, chain's hanging, funky knit hats on a hot summer day and an attitude in their stride like the had never attended a day of church in their lives.

I bit the inside of my lip thinking I could work more time if I just stood there frozen. Just as Chase's hand laid on my shoulder with some words about let's go and get this over with, I froze. There walking out of the church, was the very man I cleaned house for. Next to him was one of those models I recognized in a picture of his. Then I watched him use a lighter to light her cigarette as she took a long inhalation then puffed out the cigarette in o'rings. Bitch. Who did that anymore? And why was my housecleaning job at Bernard's funeral? I watched the thin model looking woman move about as if this was the last place she wanted to be. She stood there looking glamorous in a simple black dress, her long brown hair styled in a soft silky cascade, and her brown eyes took a quick glance my way as if she had no interest and then back to my house cleaning employer. I watched a sexy look to her demeanor instantly take place when he turned to look at her. I heard Chase mumble 'let's go' again but with much more irritation.

I pulled Chase down a half a block, while mumbling for him to just wait a damn minute. We turned the corner and had a clear view of the back of the parking lot where the casket was now being loaded into the funeral car. Chase was saying something about 'I needed to deal with the inevitable' when I reached back to slap him, meaning to hit his arm and instead, grazed his privates. While he keeled over in a sharp pain moaning, out walked none other than the dog walking job owners. Sampson and Delilah's owners. Now things were getting a bit too odd.

Then I heard a distinct FBI voice speak up in a tone I can only recognize as pissed. "Watch where you slap that hand. It's time to go."

The ride back to the jail cell was silent. I decided not to share what I saw with Chase, I would save it for my lawyer, because he was still pissed at me for - I guess I didn't graze but slapped back hard to his nuts just right that - ouch. He was in pain. When I asked him to stop and get me a quick drive thru meal, he glared. When I told him I was expecting a big Catholic grieving with lots of food, he glared. When I slightly joked it wasn't an accident, he was breathing hard and staring straight ahead.

The checking me back in was hard. I felt like lead weights had taken up place in my body, and my throat had tar in it. My eyes burned from glaring at Chase the whole way back when he announced that the apartment we just kissed at wasn't even his place. It was an official government hideout, and if I got bail and wanted to come back and blow it up, it wouldn't even affect him. I got his drift. So why then the Motel? Why tell me it was and why take me there? Why not just pick me up in the funeral attire and then... oh hell, who cared. I was nowhere closer to solving this case as I was being a free bird with a job and place to live. Life officially sucked the big one - and not in the way I liked.

Chapter Six

"You have got to be kidding me. You, all of you, raised my bail with a Monster Truck barbeque?" I turned to Gail in her car, with the window down; my hair was getting blown into my face from behind, and I smiled at my best friend. Never surprised at how she had always come through for me.

"Not exactly. Your mom got a loan for half of it off her house. Chuckie raised five grand at the barbeque and put up his two trucks as collateral to the bonds' office." She turned her blinker on, looked over her shoulder to her right and slowly changed lanes.

"Wow." It came out of my mouth, but I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My mom, mother, actually put her house as bail collateral. That was brave and trusting on her part, yet somehow it made up for a lot of weird coo-coo stuff my mom had done over the years when it came to money. However, the Chuckie part didn't surprise me, but I guess it did Gail.

She turned to me at the red light and smiled. "Yeah. I hate to tell you this after all these years of you two acting more like the perpetual brother-sister act of practical pranks and bad jokes, but Chuckie has a super soft spot for you. He even offered to beat up the FBI agent."

I was dumbfounded. I sat in Gail's car appreciating the fact that fresh air with the window down smelt like freedom and the only thing I wanted right now was a Cold Stone Creamery hot churro caramel crave. Deliciously crunchy sweet churro, topped with creamy fat ice cream, a huge dollop of spray can whip cream, and an extra dose of caramel topping. I hate to ask Gail to buy after having my bail posted, but I went ahead any ways.

Like Gail would say no after my ordeal. We sat in the cold air-conditioned ice cream restaurant devouring our dessert as if it was our last meal. She had ordered the chocolate lava meltdown, and we took turns eating off each other's ice cream, talking with a mouth full and cracking jokes about my arrest and jail. Which at the time was no joke, but now that I was out, it sure made things easier to talk about with a few bad one liners tossed out there.

The door dinged to announce a new customer arrived, and a familiar throat clearing stopped me frozen cold. I looked up into those sexy blue-green eyes and wanted to puke every delicious bite I just ate.

Gail jumped up out of her seat and began finger pointing his chest "She's not even out of jail an hour, and you are harassing her. She didn't kill the blind date, and you're just too stupid to figure out who did so you're going to go blame a poor defenseless girl like..."

He interrupted by asking a question directed at me with his soft sexy eyes and sexy dimpled grin. "Can I talk to you alone for a moment?"

I got up and glared at him, and then I turned to Gail and reassured her that I would be ok. I directed Chase back outside, into the hot air of the day. If he was gonna grill me more, he was going to do in out in the heat of the day. Besides, there were a few other customers in there with looks on their faces like maybe they should bolt since a criminal was in there, and I kind of wanted my privacy.

"Look." He said that word as if it was an apology. "I got confirmation that the evidence that was planted on your computer came in at the exact same time we were, uhm, discussing size and well, lubrication." Then he dropped his eyes to mine from looking upwards and gave me his sexy as sin, I WILL eat you alive smile. The smile that told me that the next time we kissed it might actually go all the way so I didn't get left standing there feeling lonely. Then he cleared his throat. "You're not in the clear yet."

"I'm not?" It came out breathy because I was still in a conundrum over that smile mixed with his soft eyes.

"They think you have an accomplice. Do you?" He shoved his hands into his jean front pockets, and it caused his chest muscles to bulge a bit in his FBI tee shirt that was a bit too small. I mentally stood there wishing the shirt to rip itself off and expose what I was sure was a hardened set of muscles. I did this until I felt his hand touch my arm. "Liza? Do you have an accomplice? Is this just something you fell into because you were broke and out of a job? You can tell me. Trust me, will you? I'm on your side."

I squinted my eyes and turned my head a bit to look to see what Gail was doing. She was practically plastered against the glass of the store trying to make out every body movement between us. When I turned my focus back to Chase I felt exasperated. "Am I still being charged?"

"At this point, there is evidence against you. We want the person in charge of this gun running operation, not the patsy. I get the sense you know something. If you could just let me know it, I might be able to get the charges dropped on you."

I let all of that sink in, and I figured I needed to find a better lawyer than the state appointed one. I had a few questions of my own I wanted answered. "Do I have access to my bank account and the twenty grand some fool decided to deposit there?"

He looked at me sideways, and I saw a bit of doubt cross his face. Why would I be asking for the money if I wasn't guilty? I was asking myself that same question, but I needed cash for a lawyer and at this juncture, I didn't care if it was my money to spend or not. He finally answered me sternly. "No. You do not have access to that bank account until this case is cleared."

"Ugh!" I ran my hands through my hair thinking I needed a shower, a good night's rest and a really good-paying job, but top of my list was one hell of a lawyer.

"Is there anything you want to tell me? Anything that can make this case go easier?"

"Do they teach you to molest potential criminals like the way you did the other night in FBI school or are you naturally good at it?" I decided I needed at least one good answer from him, explaining the way he kissed me the other night after flirting with me so dastardly on our date, then again, before the funeral. Getting a girl's hope up for a glow is wrong, just plain wrong.

He barked out a question fast. "What?"

"The other night, at our date. You flirted my pants off in the restaurant and then kissed me senseless. They teach you that in FBI school?"

"No. I mean yes, they teach you that sometimes to get the job done under any means necessary but... oh hell, Liza. I guess with the stress of the job and finally getting a contact who is attractive as you, I guess I lost my senses."

"Nice. So stress of work made you flirt and kiss like that."

He leaned in and whispered into my ear. "No. You made me flirt like that."

I blurted it out without thinking. "The kiss? What the hell was that? You practically had sex with me against your car. I thought we were going to..." I stopped myself. I so desperately wanted that glow that night; in fact, I could kill myself for wanting to reach out and kiss him this very second and try to get the glow on by the dumpster behind the ice cream shop.

"The kiss shouldn't have happened." He looked over my shoulder as he said it and my heart broke in two. Not just for the fact that I was not going to get a glow from this man, but the fact that to him, I was just a job.

"I gotta go. I've got sparse amount of freedom before you people decide you want to put my ass in jail permanently for something I did not do." I turned to walk away, but I felt his anger begin to rise as I brushed past him.

He grabbed my arm and turned me around. "Tell me something, anything damn it. This doesn't look good. Your DNA is on that knife, but so is somebody else's that isn't in the system."

I looked him in the eyes with a bravado I did not feel. I felt like trusting him and kissing him until I glowed, instead I let out a huge puff of air and said the next set of words to him as if I was the evil one in charge. "Let go of my arm, before you regret it." I pulled my arm out of his grasp and stomped away to the inside of the ice cream shop. By now, my ice cream was a melted mess, and my heart was right along with it.

Gail didn't mince words. "Girl... you got a party in your pants going on. That man makes you want to do the..." Before she could finish I put up my hand in a stopping motion then I whispered. "I know."

She let me have my thoughts while she watched me eat a fresh ice cream, which the counter boy brought over after I came back inside. Apparently, the whole time I was out there the entire place got their reality TV watching business in on one short episode. I wasn't exactly sure what Gail told them, but the whole place was quiet and nobody stared at me while I devoured my ice cream.

When we left the ice cream shop, everything Chase had said was bouncing around in my head. Gail didn't ask much and what I offered up was edited. We did briefly discuss the fact that Mr. Party Starter was also the man who could keep me in jail a good portion of my life. We left it at the fact it was a problem either way.

Right now, Gail had enough going on in her life with work and school that this little mishap of mine was not going to cause her anymore stress. Yet, Gail and her parents instructed that I was to stay with them as long as needed. Which was comforting to know that after everything I had just been through in the last week, that I was heading to the one place I had always considered home, Gail's parents' house. It wasn't perfect and often caused an allergic reaction, but it was the place I knew I would feel ok with the world for a very short time.

That night, between the cat's dander, Gail's' parents smoking habit and the constant noise of Chuckie working on his truck engines in the garage at midnight made me insane. Gail was sound asleep, earplugs in and a good dose of sleep easy pills. I, on the other hand, was strung out. I already had on my hello kitty pajama pants that Gail got me as a gag gift. My pink tank top over my pink lace bra and then tied on my jogging shoes. I was going for a jog to clear my head.

The green metal park bench looked like the best place to catch my breath. I had run for two miles, and my mind was not any clearer than when I left. I heard a dog bark and a cat howl as a trash can dumped over not too far away. I heard a soft ping of something hitting something than a park light went dark. I thought I saw a shadow move, but I was sure it was my imagination. Then a heard another ping, and the next park light went dark. I had seen enough horror movies to know when the ditzy unsuspecting woman was the victim. I was off that bench and pounding pavement faster than a Nascar race. I ran super-fast with my nonsupport bra causing me pain, as the pair on my chest was not meant to be joggers let alone a racer.

Two miles later, the opposite way of Gail's house and I was on a street of businesses. I was sure that I wasn't being followed. After zipping through a well-lit business district, then through the parking lot of a twenty-four-hour gas station, I ran straight through the store and out the back door. One mile later, I was outside these newly built industrial lofts off the riverbed.

I leaned against a railing and thought about what they looked like inside. Who could afford this pricy gig and how in the last five years the hottest place to live was along the river path. The same one when growing up that Gail and I, with on occasion Chuckie, would ride our bikes along a river bed with a paved path that went nowhere in general not but fifteen years ago. Those were good times. Chuckie had always hung back - he said he was protecting the rear.

I felt my breath return normal and my sweat began to chill me, as I was no longer running. I laughed aloud to myself how I must look in my hello kitty pink pj pants running after midnight, hair all wild, no makeup and a very sweaty body. I leaned into a car window to try to catch my reflection when a man's reflection behind caught my attention and scared the bajeebers out of me. Before I could scream a blood-curdling scream that was begging to come out, his hand went over my mouth, and he pulled me into his body. His thick strong arm held me back against him, and his large hand covered my mouth while he breathed into my ear telling me to calm down. The he, with the voice I recognized, was Chase. His body felt strong and protective, and his smell was that of a man of sweat. After a few heartbeats, he pulled his hand away and turned me around. Before I could ask why he was following me, he kissed me hard and long on the mouth. When he pulled away, he started asking a million questions like he never kissed me.

"How'd you know I lived here? Why are you running like a crazed woman with a tiger after you?" Then he looked me up and down, and my highpoints well; they were high and mighty saluting the man that they ached for his touch. He glimpsed at them, and a sultry smile grew across his face as his hand rubbed his neck. "I guess my first question should be is hello kitty?"

I was dumbfounded by the kiss and had not resumed a normal breathing mode. However, his smile did things to me. It took me from party in my pants to party all night long feeling. It was the curse of the glow. If I had not been wanting it every time his lips touched mine, I don't think I would be standing here, in front of him, silent, wondering things like neon glow or soft early-morning glow? What would I wear with the glow? Nothing obviously. All caught up in thoughts of glow and wondering when Chase was actually going to turn the switch on, I felt his hand wrap up in mine, he looked around anxiously and told me to come with him.

So he took me by the hand and lead me into the very expensive lofts that Gail and I hated were built on our bike path but swore if we ever had enough money we would buy one.

His large hand covered my eyes while he punched in a code to get inside the building, then again, when he punched into a keypad to get into his loft. He went in first and flipped a switch, and a few lamps turned on throughout the big open spacious loft.

It was a man's loft. Nothing like the government issued apartment and much to my relief, no porn magazines spread out on the cheap coffee table as if he just got his jollys. His furniture was a rich dark-colored leather, dark wood and a few light grays or blues punched in around the place. Overall, it looked like a man with some sense of taste lived here.

"Can I get you something to drink?" He offered while staring at me as it was quite obvious I was taking in my surroundings. Not one to mince words I replied. "How the hell do you afford this place? Sorry, water please."

As I watched him walk into a gallery kitchen of cherry wood kitchen cabinets and light granite countertops, I imagined him cooking me a meal in that kitchen while I laid around scantily dressed holding a glass of red wine.

His next words caught me off guard. "I thought you were a good Catholic girl?"

"What makes you ask that?" I walked towards him as he handed me a bottled water from his refrigerator.

"Well. I was told you didn't like cussing?" He took a long sip of his water and then set it on the counter while he leaned one hip against the countertop. His gray FBI tee shirt was covered in sweat and his navy blue running shorts were loose on him. I wondered if those were the same ones I was going to wear the other day. Then I shook my head thinking, I should not be thinking about wearing his clothes. Especially when my mind was thinking about getting him out of them.

Then he took a step closer while saying my name. "Liza?" He was within my body space, and my body was wanting to close that space. "Why were you running scared and how did you end up here?"

Instead of answering him, I reached one hand up and pulled him in close for a kiss. I barely got the tongue touching before he pulled away and cleared his throat. I put my arm down by my side and took a long drink of water from my water bottle. At one point, I wasn't even drinking, just holding it up to my mouth like I was, while Chase was standing there staring at me with a funny smile.

"Liza. At some point, you are going to have to answer me."

I set the bottle down and swallowed the water that was just sitting in my mouth. "I am?"

"Yes you are. You can't be out running at night, in that, for your health. Granted Gail doesn't live that far so I can see how this is just a coincidence. Perhaps I mentioned I went jogging at night when I can't think. But when I saw you a block a head of me, you looked petrified that the boogie man was out to get you."

I laughed, looked down at my pink hello kitty pajamas and running shoes, then I looked into his sexy blue-green eyes and laughed. "He is. At least, I think he is."

"Well then." He spoke it so confidently while he took off his sweaty grey tee shirt. "I can't wait to hear about this. But first, I need to jump in the shower. You gonna run away or steal from me while I do?"

I stood there dumbfounded and overly sensitized by the glistening sweaty bulging muscles. I don't know how long he jogged, but he got the pectoral and ab muscles worked into a seriously tight set of rippling muscles. I was certain that drool was cascading over my lip as my mouth hung open and my eyes popped out. He just shook his head back in fourth with a smile on his face as he walked on by. At this point, the man owed me huge. It wasn't just the kissing that he teased me with to get the glow, now I got an idea of what the muscles under the clothes were like and how they would look giving me the glow, and I was a certifiable insane glow seeker at this point. I felt like I could say or have him do anything at this point to get me to accomplish the glow.

Instead, I found a mirror on the wall by the door, checked myself and saw my face was a bit flushed, sweaty from the running, my hair was looking a bit crazy and my girls, well they were pointing out like they were screaming 'hey, we saw his muscles!'.

Thank goodness he was quick to shower and change. He walked back out in a fresh pair of black shorts and a black tee shirt. He had a towel drying his hair, and then he tossed it on a chair while walking towards me. I had found a leather chair and a National Geographic magazine to keep me entertained.

I looked up from the magazine, just as he sat opposite me in a matching dark leather chair and smiled. He looked amused as he leaned forward, put his elbows on his knees, clasped his fingers and then asked me. "You can start whenever you like."

"Ok. Well. I'm staying at Gails. You left me a bit frazzled today. Then Chuckie, that's Gail's older brother, the big oaf you called him, was working on his monster truck. Everyone else in the house was smart enough to take a sleeping pill and earplugs. I, however, am allergic to the five cats they have and the smoke filled house. Gail put me on a thirty-year-old trundle mattress with broken springs." I set the magazine down and decided to put my feet behind me and sit sideways and lean into the arm of the large leather chair. It was now past one in the morning, and the exhaustion of everything was settling in.

"So." He looked at me with a slightly cocked head. "How did you end up here?"

"Simple. I was restless and decided to clear my head. I ended up in a park where the lights were getting shot at one by one, and I had seen enough horror stories to know when to run like hell. I ended up here, which, by the way, I had no idea you lived here."

"Fate?" He questioned with doubt.

"I guess. Yeah. Fate." I smiled wickedly. His doubt was evident, but I couldn't get the vision of his naked chest out of my brain every time he smiled. I was in deep.

"Well. Liza. I'm going to say a few things, and you tell me if you think they are fate. The guy you clean house for is not related to the people you walk dogs for, unless you want to account for the fact, they are both in the Russian Mafia. The woman at the funeral that was with the guy you clean house for, is your height and weight, and if I'm not mistaken, one of my agents found a wig matching your hair style in her trash today. What I don't think is fate is the fact that you now have forty thousand dollars in your bank account and the person depositing it, is also part of the Russian Mafia. So somehow or another, Bernard Gooth, was not the best fate for a date."

I let all that sink in as little giggles began to rise in me. If I had felt before that Chase didn't have my best interest at heart, or that I couldn't trust him, I did now. How he figured all that out was beyond me.

I watched his FBI demeanor relax, and a sexy smile crept on his face as he leaned back into his chair in relaxed position with his arms now resting open, one on each leather armrest of the chair. "You find this amusing?" He asked with a bit of his own laughter.

"Wouldn't you. I mean I kind of figured some of that out at the funeral and told my lawyer. However, I never heard they were Russian Mafia. I guess I'm laughing partly because you sounded so serious and ended it with a rhythm. Fate. Date. But I guess some exhaustion is setting in. I have been feeling like I'm holding some clues in but was afraid to share them."

"Yeah. Well, I can be a funny guy."

"Smart too. If you figured all that out by just going to the funeral." I gave him a teasing look.

"Actually." He looked away for a second and then back to me with a serious look to his face. "Your lawyer had to share in on the information regarding the Russian Mafia. We are in mid investigation here and when those names popped up, I was afraid you had gotten yourself in too deep. Did you try to be the patsy of the crime and throw it all off for the forty grand?"

"No. I don't know who's putting money in my account. Honestly, Chase. It was just a blind date. A date with a dead man, or at least he had no idea his ticket was up." I was starting to feel a bit defensive but knew the smartest thing to do right now would be to share any bit of information I had with him. Because obviously, he would find out any ways. So I started off with the most important one. "By the way, that nut grazing incident was a complete accident. I don't normally go around messing with guy's nuts."

That comment had him busting out with laughter, and something told me he needed the laugh as much as I did.

Chapter Seven

The light of the morning sun coming through his bedroom window woke me up. I was still dressed in my pajamas and a huge thick soft blanket covering me. Chase was nowhere next to me, and I could hear clicking on a computer in the other room. The last thing I remembered was Chase offering his bed at three am after I had cried my life story to him. I told him everything that had happened to me in the last six months, from the previous blind dates my mother set me up on, their names, the name of my boss I slept with, his wife's name, my mom's place of work that she worked at when she got pregnant with me and the fact that when he kissed me, I felt like my whole world just tilted right.

Sometime, between walking me to his bed, kissing me one last time and telling me that everything was going to be alright, I fell asleep in his arms. Yet, now, something gnawed at me like a desperation or irritant. I was ok with Chase not being there next to me waking up, but I felt like something bad was about to happen or did.

I stretched and slowly tried to sexually saunter into his main loft room, leaving my bad gut feeling behind. However, before he could drop another delicious sensual kiss on my lips, he was handing me a jogging jacket and telling me that I would have to deal with a to-go coffee on the way, all in his FBI voice. As if nothing happened the night before, the kiss, the attention, the hug that things will get better and then the attitude that we were partners in this crime to solve.

"On the way where?"

"I'd rather not talk about it?" So, it was there that he left me hanging on with his words. The faint memory of his kiss was gone. He would only glance my way with an intent look, then look back to the road. I recognized where we were going once we were a few blocks away.

As soon as we pulled up in front of Gail's parents smoldering house, I wanted to faint. Was everyone ok? Then I saw a very pissed-off Chuckie, a sleepy looking Gail, and her parents holding four of the five cats while smoking cigarettes. It was a site.

"Oh my God, we were so worried. Where were you?" Gail hounded as I stepped out of Chase's FBI cruiser.

"I went for a jog to clear my head." I stared out at the smoldering house that once held memories of Gail and me as little girls. Then I hugged her as if she was my lifeline.

She held me back at arm's length after the long hug and questioned my attire. "In that?" She interjected into my thoughts with more worry about what I was wearing then the fact I was freaked out right now, in more ways than one.

I looked down at my pink hello kitty pj pants and Chase's jogging jacket over my pink bra and pink tank top. I took the jacket off and tried to gather in my surroundings. "The jacket is Chase's. He found me." I left the rest of the previous evening to myself for now. I had too much to sort out, the kissing between Chase and I was almost too sensual for a quick mutual attraction. It seemed the two of us had some kind of animal attraction going on. I know I did. But Chase, he was a blank book to read. He'd kiss me with heat and desire building one second, and then berate me the next with questions as if I was a common criminal. How I'd like to be a blood cell on his brain right now. Maybe then, I could figure out exactly what was going on in his world.

By the time I finally did talk about my jog, the park lights being shot out and running into Chase, Gail looked pissed. "I was worried sick about you. How come you didn't take your phone?"

"Good question. My mind is that of scrambled burnt eggs lately. I guess I thought, what more could happen to a girl like me. I'm truly sorry Gail. Will your parents be ok?" I looked over as they took long inhalations of their cigarettes in unison and clung to two cats each for dear life.

"Shit. They're fine. Over insured if you ask me. This property is worth way more than they bought it for. It's a far improvement over what it was. The fire started in the garage, lucky for Chuckie, he was on a beer run. Unfortunately, he took your car and left his trucks in the garage. So much for bond collateral." We both laughed. Growing up Gail's mom was not known for home and garden. Add to the fact that the smoke, cat dander and Chuckie and his dad drinking beer and sitting in recliners in the front room was the main decor of the house. This was an improvement.

It finally struck me that everything I now owned was burnt to a crisp, including my phone. Sure I had my stuff back in storage but since the FBI had a seize on my account, I didn't have any money to pay the storage unit for rent and knew that soon my stuff was going to be on storage wars.

I stood by Gail and watched Chase in action as he asked law officials questions and then talked with Gail's parents and Chuckie. It wasn't long; a cab pulled up, and Chuckie got his parents inside along with the four cats. The fifth cat was not quite counted as dead as it had been known to head out on an all-night kitty loving prowl on more than one occasion. We could only hope that tonight was one of those.

Chuckie walked over and smiled as if nothing had happened. "Gail, I need to take your car. I'm going to the store and get some stuff for the cats and mom and dad." At this point and time, Gail's car and mine were nowhere near the fire when it started, but the fire grew fast and Gail's parents cars were victims as well.

"I'll drive Gail to the hotel in just a bit." I offered.

Then Gail handed her keys off to her brother. "Fill the tank, get me a twelve-pack of coke and pack of Marlboro Lights."

I nudged her with my elbow and gave her the evil look.

"What?" She looked at me with exasperation. "This is a stressful time, and I'm either going to smoke lights or my parents unfiltered."

I rolled my eyes. I was Gail's commander in charge in the constant campaign to keep her smoke free. I guess just this once, I would not hound or ridicule.

Chuckie looked at me with a goofy smile then asked. "You sleeping with Gail and me? Mom said she got two rooms, but they only had king beds left in each room. I call the middle."

I slugged his arm in humor. "No. I think I'll stay at my mom's tonight. Just this once. Then I'll deal with tomorrow once it comes. Just then, a whisper of air brushed my ear as one voice that did things to my mojo spoke up. "I need to talk to you." I watched Chuckie go from lighthearted fun to one pissed off and protective man while Gail took a step back away from Chase and smiled. He was a good-looking man, and Gail was not blind. She had already mentioned I could not have picked a better-looking man to fall for. It just would have been easier if he wasn't the man who had put me in jail.

I let Chase guide me gently with his hand on my arm as we found a spot that was not in the center of the action. No firefighters, gawking neighbors and best friends could hear in on the conversation.

"I hate to say this." He started off with. "But there are several witnesses pointing you out as the person they saw running away right before the first explosion in the garage." He looked at me in question.

"But I was with you." I looked hurt as if he could even suggest it.

"It doesn't look good. Also, I can't admit to you being at my place or the..." He stalled for words. So I interjected. "The kissing?"

"Yeah. Listen. Whoever is really behind all this is setting you up. It's my job to bring you down along with the real bad guys."

"So you don't think I'm bad anymore." I asked in question as I watched him take a step back, rub his neck and look off to the side. I just remembered the first time I saw him as he did that. It was when I had driven back by the crime scene. I was in love with a man before his lips even dropped to mine and dusted the cobwebs out of the dungeon. I was in deep, and I needed to get out of this mess and fast.

He hadn't spoken up because it was like he was thinking. Hard.

"Chase." I reached out to stroke his arm, but he pulled away and looked around guiltily trying to make sure no one saw the touch. I retreated back a step and tried to understand. "Listen. I get it. We can't let anyone know." I whispered. Then I cleared my throat and smiled speaking in a normal tone. "Whatever you need me to do Officer Downing." Then I saluted him.

He smiled and looked a bit relieved. "Listen. I think you should stay at your moms, not in a king-size bed with Gail and big oaf over there." I hadn't realized he had heard that conversation. Chuckie was completely innocent, but Chase didn't know that and just the fact he was showing jealousy made my heart warm.

"I would but I don't think my mom will let me stay with her. See. She's just bought this RV and..." I didn't get to finish.

"I called her. You can stay."

"You called my mom?" I looked at him in question.

"Yeah. I actually interviewed her before you got released from jail. She gave me her cell number and told me to call her anytime I needed."

"My mom! She gave you a cell phone number. When the hell did my mom get a cell phone? That woman doesn't understand the meaning of technology or cell phones. I mean."

He stopped me from going any further with his wicked as sin smile spreading on his face. "She gave me her number in hopes of a date. Apparently, your mom has had this cell phone a long time and only hands it out to the fellers. If you know what I mean. She's a flirt."

"Ack. My mom? Flirted with you? Jesus." I began pounding my palm of my hand to my head. I wanted to choke that woman. She told me she didn't believe in cell phones or calling me on mine, yet she had her own to hand out to 'the fellers' as if it made me feel ok.

Chase grabbed my hand that was pounding my head and put it at my side and pulled his hand away. He laughed lightly. "Any ways. I already called her. She's expecting you at the Pepper Valley RV park. It's not far. I'll drive you there and get you settled in."

"I have to take Gail with me. She is the only person that can keep me from killing my mother. Then once things are settled, I will drive Gail to the hotel."

"But you will stay at your mom's and not sleep in the same bed as big oaf?" He motioned with a thumb over his shoulder where Gail and Chuckie were staring at us.

"I might, that is unless somebody else has a bed to offer me." I teased. I was on treacherous ground, but I just wanted to lighten the mood with a tease.

He looked around guiltily and smiled. "We need to solve this case and fast. However, I'm following you until I know that you are staying at your moms. I'll drive Gail to the hotel."

Wow. He was going to make sure that big oaf Chuckie didn't get a chance to read me a bed time story tonight. That pulled some emotional heart strings in a sensitive way. Him not wanting me to be around another man, brother like or not, made me realize he did have some serious feelings for me.

"Hey Chase?"

"Yeah?" He was looking around and punching in notes into his phone. His attention went from all about me to the people in the area. I watched him hold up his phone and take a digital image of video in a complete circle then process it off in a an email.

"I'm a bit scared and wigged out about all this. I mean, the only jobs I had were the house cleaning and dog walking jobs, and now I have to wonder."

"Don't be scared. I'm going to figure this all out. Let's get Gail and I'll follow you to your moms." By the time we walked over, Chuckie was gone and Gail was standing there talking to a neighbor, who then walked away briskly when I walked up as if I had rabies.

Gail spoke up in laughter. "Apparently, Fred here was out walking his poodle because, well long story short, but he saw you running away, watched his dog do its business in the neighbor's yard and then when he was picking it up when the explosion happened. I guess he tossed his poodles handful in the air and inadvertently swallowed a little bit of poodle poop that fell down as he was shocked with his mouth open. He thinks you did it." She began to laugh, and I was hurt.

"Liza. I know you didn't. It's definitely got some weirdness to it. But maybe somebody didn't want to stop at just blaming you for a murder, now they are adding arsenal. Either way. We know you didn't. Hell, you can't even light more than five birthday candles without having issues." We both began to laugh as Chase just stood off to the side of me in observation.

"Chase wants to follow me to my moms. Once you get me adjusted there. He wants to drive you to the hotel. He doesn't want Chuckie reading me a bedtime story." We both laughed and Gail gave Chase the once over. Then she whispered into my ear. "He likes you."

I smiled back. I knew he did. It was in the way that he kissed me. I was just not certain if he could get enough evidence to make me the innocent person that I am.

Chapter Eight

As I stood watching the replay on the news about Gail's parents' house burning down while standing in my mother's new RV, I realized my life had just gotten far worse than I ever thought possible.

My mom was outside right now talking with Chase. I could see her flirting with him through the tiny window above the barbie doll size kitchen sink. My mom was only fifty-five, but if she had her way, a man in his mid-thirties might take her up on what she was offering. Chase was out there now talking to her about having me stay here, where it was safe, and she was talking to him about a great new show she'd like a handsome man to take her to. Gail patted my shoulder with her hand.

"I got a double shift at the ER starting in an hour. School break is over day after next, and then I am going to be working more hours and away then I'll be staying at the hotel. Mom said they can get a room with double beds tomorrow night if you want to start shacking up there. The ER gang already has a few bags of clothes donations. We're the same size, so I'll share, but you know me; I live in these scrubs even when I'm not working. They're like praying on Sunday for me, just good common sense. Stay tonight at your moms if you want to but Chase can deal with a bit of Chuckie jealousy." She smiled and turned the volume up a bit on the TV.

"I know you didn't do it." She added and I weakly smiled at her as I had just taken my eyes off the TV. I had been scanning the crowd of people, looking for anyone familiar as Gail had been talking, and if I was not mistaken, cleaning job model, from the funeral - hey light my cigarette, was off in the crowd. I figured I would mention it to Chase as soon as I got my mom's mitts off of him.

I started to think about everything that Chase had said earlier, thinking about Gail's poor parents, thinking about her brother's monster trucks and how he felt about losing them, and I felt tears streaming down my face. Gail looked up from her texting and got up from the tiny pink barrel RV chair she had been sitting in, swinging back and forth and texting all at the same time. She came up behind me and hugged me. "It's going to be alright." She spoke with confidence. The thing was; I wasn't too sure. Somebody had it out for me, and until I could connect the cash being deposited with house cleaning jobs model girlfriend, I wasn't in the clear.

Gail's soft voice spoke near my ear. "This really isn't anything worth crying over. My parents' house was insured for far more than it was worth. I guess their old property is a hot commodity for some builder. My dad's blaming the builder for setting it on fire. Somehow, I wonder if this has something to do with your dead guy and someone following you. Care to share?"

It was time I let my best friend in on what I just spent the last twenty-four hours figuring out for myself. I was in deep with something I had no idea how. Bernard was the start of it, but I had a small inkling that somehow or another; I was set up with Bernard. So that means, this goes back further than my mom meeting a nice young man at a butcher shop, where it turns out she met Bernard. It means that some time back, somebody saw me as an easy out on a killing. However, who and why were huge lingering questions in my mind.

With Gail, I never minced words; I just got right down to it. I told her about the dog walking and then the job cleaning their rich son's house, which, by the way, I was due at tomorrow for a full afternoon of cleaning. How I saw both of them stay late as if they were family members at Bernard's funeral. So I wasn't sure how I could show up to clean a house, let alone walk a dog wondering about them, however, I didn't tell her what Chase had said. They were part of the Russian Mafia gun running operation. I told her about how when her brother picked me up that night, I was sure we were being followed. Then I told her about not being able to sleep last night, so I went for a jog, without my phone, because my mind was making no sense lately. I didn't tell her about seeing the model at her house or the forty grand in my bank account.

She looked at me for a long hard minute then spoke up like the older sister act she always played for me. "Look, I guess it seems like there has been more going on then you've been letting on. I'm worried for your safety. I've got some cash saved up for my next trimester at nursing school but I think I'll take a trimester off and go find us a cheap place to live. You've got your unemployment kicking in. Your first check should be here any day, right?"

"That is if the FBI doesn't seize that too. I wasn't going to mention this, but somebody has deposited several large deposits into my personal account totaling more than forty grand. The FBI thinks I am a hired killer. Chase thinks I'm being set up, but I know there are moments he has doubts. My bank account is frozen, not that there was much in there before the large cash deposits, but I have that cleaning job tomorrow and I could probably get him to pay me cash. That's a hundred."

"You are not going back to clean Mr. K's house if he's in on all this. You are not, are you?"

"I could use the cash, and I think if he doesn't suspect that I know something, maybe I can snoop around."

"I don't like it, Liza." She looked extremely concerned and now I wished I hadn't told her everything.

"Look. I'll talk it over with Chase. I'm sure he will make sure I'm protected. Look. I'm going to stay with my mom tonight, and I'll worry about tomorrow later. You've got a lot on your plate right now. I can drive you to work?"

"No need." Just then a car horn honked its horn, and one of her coworkers was outside of my mom's RV pad waiting on Gail. "I just texted Tess to wait. I'm not leaving until your mom and you have been in the same room together for at least a few minutes." Then her phone vibrated with a text again. "Chuckie says he's got your phone. He used it on his beer run and left it on their counter. When he went back for pop and cigarettes they gave it back to him." Then she laughed again. "He says not to delete the pictures he took of himself on your phone. He will drop it by later."

I let myself sit down in the pink plush barrel RV chair that let me swing back in forth in almost a complete three sixty. This, in itself felt calming and amusing in one. I guess I could be thankful I still had a cell phone and my car.

A quick thought popped in my head, of how I had to park my car in front of the main RV office and was glad that at least that didn't blow up. Yet. That last word popped in my head so fast that it sent a chill down my spine thinking that if someone could kill Bernard, deposit forty grand into my account, follow me to a deserted park late at night and then blow up Gail's parents house, then the word 'yet' held meaning. Where would this all stop at?

Just then, my mom came in with a glow about her face, laughing like a giddy girl with Chase following in her steps. They both stepped up into the main part of the RV, and I watched my mom turn the TV off and then I listened to her happy note comment. "No need to watch that. It will only make you sad. Are you staying here tonight with Liza and myself?" She directed the last question to Gail. Just hearing her say it made my eye twitch and a migraine kick in.

"Oh, no. Thanks for the offer." Gail looked at my mom with a smile and then turned her back to me with a wink. When she turned back around, Chase had his backside against the tiny kitchen countertop and a look of amusement on his face as he watched the interplay between Gail and my mom. "My parents are staying at the Motel Haven off the interstate. My brother and I will share a room until we find a new place to live. Liza and I were just talking about maybe getting a place together."

"Oh don't be silly." Her high-pitched laughter echoed out in the small RV. "Liza doesn't have any money, and I most certainly will not lend her any after she tried to swindle me out of the first loan I ever gave her. She'll just stay here with me until we can find her a nice shelter to stay at."

The look on Chase's face held emotion, but it seemed like a mix of 'your mom is crazy' with 'I'm sorry this is happening to you' and add in a questionable mental idea that he might be thinking I've got a bit of the crazy gene as well. All this, while I scrunched one side of my mouth downwards into a frown and felt my whole right side of my face twitching now. At this point, I would do anything not to stay with my mom. However, tonight, it didn't seem like such a bad idea and after tomorrow's cash job, I could sleep in my car if I had to. Either way, by the end of tomorrow, I needed to focus on finding a better-paying job then long john's hotdog cart, which he was still willing to hold out for me.

Gail knew when words would be mincing soon between my mother and me. I had the look of mental preparation on my face. I was about to let my mother have it. She took me by my hand, and loudly announced she was taking me out to get something from my car. My mom started to say something then stopped.

I frowned with sadness as I passed Chase out the steps of the RV. I didn't even say a good-bye, and I'll be back to my mom. Never mind, the fact that my mother and I have not spoken the words I love you to each other in more years than I could count.

A few steps away from the RV, and off my mother's brand new outdoor green grass carpet, perfectly laid down in her RV rental spot, at the local in town RV and Camp Park, I let out a huge mental 'ugh'. Loud enough that a few RVer's out enjoying the day's sunshine turned to give me a questionable look.

Gail let out a ferocious laughter and Chase tapped me on the shoulder. I didn't even realize he had followed us out, nor did I hear his steps behind us. He was stealth like that way. His touch put me in sensory overload. I had found myself slowly falling into the depths of his deep baby blues last night that when I had fallen asleep at his place, I had dreams of mad passionate desire with the agent who was about to make my life hell.

"Hey." His deep timber voice stopped both of us in our laugh track and turn to look at him. "Gail, why don't you catch your ride to work. Liza and I need to talk." He said it in a way that he does when you really don't want to question him. Gail and I hugged good-bye, and I hollered out for her to not work so hard.

As soon as Gail was gone, I started walking the three RV blocks towards where my car was parked. "Mind if I grab something from my car. If I'm not mistaken, there is a half bottle of vodka in the trunk of my car, and that is about the only way I can deal with my mom for one night."

He chuckled. "Liza. I'm having the crime scene processed right now. Is there anyone at Gail's parents who looked familiar or out of place to you?"

"Yeah." I paused for a moment. I turned and looked at him and smiled. "Remember last night when we talked about my house cleaning job, Mr.Zhestakova. Well, I think I saw that same lady he lit the cigarette at the funeral for, standing behind the fire truck, but in a different wig this time. I could be mistaken."

"I might need you to come down and look at some video I took at the scene and identify her. Liza?" He had that tone like he wanted to wrap me up in his arms and kiss. Tell me everything is going to be all right and when it is all over, he is going to give the glow so good, even batman's light won't shine as bright.

I answered with a breathy tone. "Yeah?" As I was lost in the depths of his blue-green eyes staring at me like he was going to say something sensual or kiss me, when a loud kaboom vibrated throughout the entire RV area. A sound like a bomb explosion and it was coming from where my car was parked.

We both stood there staring at each other for a few seconds in disbelief. I didn't think it was possible that my 'yet' thought earlier might have actually come true. By the time Chase grabbed my hand, and we began running towards the now black plume of smoke, quite visible from the street between all the RVs, a good majority of the retirees that were home in their RVs were coming out in robes, curlers or casual attire to see what the heck just happened. A blur of curious faces collided together as we started running faster, hand in hand, towards the smoke. As soon as we rounded the corner to where I had to park in front of the RV office, aka a really old dilapidated mobile office that still had the faded construction name on the side was just now catching fire. The originality of the flames jumping to it, was my car. My old dilapidated Honda Accord four door, that was not insured as I could not afford the insurance or the recently expired plates as of yesterday, looked like I felt. I was toast.

I lost the feel of Chase's hand as he went into action. I dropped to the ground just far enough away from the heat and smoke of the fire, dropped my head between my knees and wrapped my arms around my legs and started to rock back and forth mumbling; this can't be happening, this can't be happening.

As I sat in a curled up rocking ball of a human on the ground, the sounds of fire rescue could be heard approaching closer along with a mass of RV owners hooking up their hoses to their water lines in their units and spraying water. Chase was in the thick of it directing folks to connect their water hoses that were farther away, all while spraying a water hose on the mobile office. As far as my car, it was already a black cinder of metal with only the base and wheels still smoldering. I looked up and part of the roof of my car was settled up in an old oak tree, smoking. Then I watched someone aim their hose in that direction to keep the tree from catching fire, and I was in awe.

I finally stood to the sound of my mom's voice as she offered a hand in front of me. "Good jess Missy? What have you gone and gotten yourself into?" I hoisted myself up without the assistance of her hand and stood there for a moment staring at her with big round eyes, an intake of breath that did not want to expel and a heart that felt like it had stopped beating. I wanted to scream at her that she was the reason I was in this mess. She had this huge desire to get me hitched up and married, when I was doing just fine being broke and unemployed before all of this started. Before I could say anything, Chase was maneuvering the RV owners out of the way, so that the fire trucks could get hooked up to the hydrant and do their thing. This caught my mother's attention and her ability to be politically incorrect by saying something I never wanted my mother to say to me about a man I was in love with. "Good jest, the things I could do to that man when I get him naked."

I physically slapped my forehead with the palm of my hand, keeping my internal grimace to myself. I turned to start walking away, anywhere but there, leaving my mother empty handed with more ammunition to make this my fault. I got about four RV blocks away from the mess when a large strong hand stopped me, and his voice melted my resolve.

"Liza?" I turned to face Chase, and he instantly wrapped me up in his arms. I felt the strength of his body wrap around me, the tender kisses of his lips drop on the top of my head, the 'sh' sound from him whispering into my ear. Then a gentle deep tone told me that 'everything is going to be alright', yet I knew everything was far from alright.

I heard my own tears begin to soften as his kisses to the top of my head slowly made it to my ears and neck, and before I knew it, he had my face in the palm of his hands and his blue-green eyes staring fiercely into mine before he dropped his lips to mine. It was only a matter of seconds before I felt like we needed our own water hose to cool things off what was heating up out in public. However, it wasn't the water hose or fire department stopping us; it was Chase's phone, and he had to answer it. I heard a few 'uh-huh's and ok's' before he hung up and hugged me again for a full minute. When he pulled away he looked at me, and Mr. FBI was back. "I have to bring you in for questioning. Now!"

Good lord, could my life get any worse?

Chapter Nine

I guess it could. With forty grand in my bank account that I can't touch. A criminal charge looming over me even though I had nothing to do with it. A sexual attraction to the man whose job was to put me in jail. A best friend without a home, which in a twisted way I knew it had something to do with me. A temporary housing shelter that put me within the same confines as my mother, which in itself is suicide. Adding to the fact that my mother's lust for Chase was not something she would be hiding when she was around us. And now, my car has been blown to smithereens. I had to wonder who did I piss off so bad that my date with a blind man turned into a date with destiny in perpetual hell.

It took Chase only a few minutes to go from loving consoling boyfriend to FBI agent in charge with an attitude. He kept me by his side, but not with tender loving care. He talked with the fireman in charge, my mother and the RV owner, all while I stood there feeling guilty when I wasn't. This was starting to make my blood boil.

When he turned to me to say he was done, I did the same. "Well. I think I am officially done as well." I glared at him with my arms crossed, still in my pajamas slash running attire from yesterday and made up my mind. I didn't need a man to toy with my emotional strings while somebody out there was thinking of cutting off my life strings. I was a puppet either way you looked at it.

He looked at me like he had no idea why I was upset. "Babe?" Ok so I was no longer Liza and now hit the girlfriend word of babe, but that didn't make me feel any better about us, in a sexual or relationship kind of way.

"Don't babe me!" I forced out as I began stomping my feet all the way back to his FBI cruiser. Too bad the villain didn't bother to blow up his car while we were all busy putting my car fire out. At least, that way, he might have gotten a dose of how I was starting to feel. One by one, somebody was blowing up the things that mattered to me, and that was just not really sitting right.

Chase unlocked the car and we both got in at the same time; however, he didn't start it up right away. After a few seconds, he turned to me and asked. "Is there anything I can do to make it better?" So I began to cry while he pulled me into his arms for a hug that I knew was meant for reassurance, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to throw my ass back in jail.

After I broke down in hysterics in his car, sobbing about the only clothes on my back were my pj's. I ended up talking Chase out of a small charge of one hundred and twenty three dollars and sixty two cents at the discount everything store that was just outside the RV park. He decided it was worth every penny to shut me up. I also made him promise to drive me back to shower and dress at my mom's RV before taking me in for questions. I would have preferred his place but the temptation there, might have been too big for the both of us.

Once I got a shower in at my mom's RV, which is a huge joke for anyone over the height of five foot five. I got dressed in my four dollar clearance denim shorts, my two dollar fourth of July tee shirt that was a month past its date, and my three dollar flip-flops; I felt better. I brushed through my wet hair and braided it. I pulled a few bangs out and applied some of my mom's thirty-dollar hair oil to the bangs to help with the frizzes that usually showed up. I got my arms and legs all covered in lotion, twice. I was stalling.

When I came out, I noticed my cell phone on the table, glad I wasn't here when Chuckie probably gave Chase a hard time. Although with the way Chase sat half asleep on the kitchen sofa, he must not have been too disturbed by Chuckie. My mom's small RV TV was on a daytime TV show but was being interrupted with a news flash. There on the news interruption was my car burning up for all to see. As of right now, they didn't know who the car belonged to as they spent minutes showing several interviews of RV park renters talking about speculation. I wasn't sure if that was good or bad news, because at some point I was sure, they would interview my mom who was still standing in the hordes of gawkers around the burned mess. That thought in itself gave me more scare about what she might say than what is actually the truth. My mom had a way to dream up a story and talk your ear off, and none of it would be true. Then again, the non-truth could be much better than the truth I was living.

I caught myself watching Chase as he looked to be breathing deeply in and out. He had dozed off while I showered. Neither one of us had really slept last night after talking at his place, at least I was sure he hadn't slept at all while I got maybe three hours in, all while I was in his bed. What I wouldn't give to crash out there right now. His body slightly slumped to his right, with his right hand holding his head up while his elbow rested on the backside of the four-inch foam sofa cushions. I quickly imagined us in a different place. Just the two of us out camping in the woods. This kind of camping I could do. Him coming in from chopping wood and taking a rest while I showered from our long morning of lovemaking.

"I can hear your thoughts." His voice caught me off guard from my daydreaming, as did his sleepy eyes opening and a smile stretched across his face. There was no way in hell he knew what I was thinking at that moment.

"Look. Your car being blown up might have convinced me you aren't in on it. But I've known an operative or two to kill their own family to make themselves look innocent." He sounded like FBI agent, not the Chase I knew I had fallen in love with.

Causing incognito chaos was not what I was thinking, but I was not going to tell him what I was thinking either. So I thought fast and came up with a sensible thought. "I was actually thinking how kind it would be for you to drive me to my storage lot across town, let me get some more personable items, and then I can pay you back the cash you lent me."

"So you do have some money after all?"

"Well, if you call two hundred stashed in an old jewelry box that I forgot about, yes. Other than that, my only cash available was blown to bits right before our very eyes." I sounded defensive when really I could tell a small part of Chase just wanted to help me or maybe that was me just wishing he could be my hero. "I have two hundred stashed away that I have for emergencies. I want to pay you back. You know. So you don't think I'm a mooch or the type that wouldn't even pay her own mother back." I tried to tease to lighten the mood, but I was feeling stretched.

"I see. Or is this just another tactic from heading into the FBI office for questions?" FBI agent voice was starting to emerge even stronger as he stood up and stretched his body. The very same body I felt an ache for to touch yet we were back to the FBI versus criminal act. I guess I really did not want to go back to the FBI office for questioning because that means they really do think I might be guilty in some way. So I decided that I was not going to say another word by just glaring at him with mean eyes and pressed lips.

Driving across town for what should be a half-hour drive turned into two hours with accidents, traffic and a side stop for dinner. I was famished and ordered three cheeseburgers, along with a large cappuccino drink and diet coke. Don't judge me.

I mentally added my tab to his bill that I owed him, thankful that cheeseburgers were on the dollar menu. I didn't want him to think I was a mooch so I ordered the cheap stuff.

By the time we pulled into the storage lot, the two police cruisers out front were not a good sign. Chase got out and flashed his badge as I took the last cheeseburger, swallowed down with the last of my cappuccino. By the time Chase made it back to the air conditioning of his running car, he looked amused. What he said first was just a softener for a blow.

"I guess I wasn't thinking when I left you in a running car. Although, eating seemed far more important to you than stealing my car. Where do you put all that food? Never mind. Listen. You seem to have attracted something, or someone, to this little sideshow gig you have going on. Your storage lot has been blown up as well. I guess it happened sometime earlier this evening, around the same time as your car blowing up. The same time I had you in my custody at your mom's RV park, rather convenient of you to make me your alibi. It's not the first time someone has tricked an FBI agent into being their alibi. If you hadn't looked so damn cute, yet so pathetically scared, then adorable, I wouldn't be your alibi."

He seemed pissed. As for me, I was a mess of mixed emotions. I was upset. On the one hand, my entire life seemed to have been blown up to smithereens in less than twenty-four hours. My memories of Gail and I growing up, my swim team ribbons from my youth of summers spent at the pool on a swim team. The pictures of my only pet I ever had before realizing I was allergic to pet dander. The last two hundred bucks I had to my name. On the other hand, the few words that softened the blow from Chase was that he thought I looked so damn cute and adorable. Those words made me think that maybe, just maybe, Chase had an attraction as much as I did. Well, correction. My attraction was huge after I saw a quick glimpse of him changing out of his shirt to go shower back at his place. That attraction felt like bells ringing in my secret region.

I spoke his name softly. "Chase?" It held question but fear as well. I didn't want the man I was becoming attracted to think I was using him as an excuse or worse, a killer. I didn't get a chance to say much more. He started in with thoughts and ideas, talking aloud as if I wasn't even there. He went on like this all the way to the FBI station.

As I sat in the questioning room, by myself for hours, wondering why a simple murder was FBI business over local police - oh yeah the whole Russian gun running thing. The closest gun I had ever been to was when I worked the car convention that was running at the same place as the gun convention. I never went to the gun side. Then I asked myself the big kahuna question, why I had been selected as a patsy. Just when I had internally asked myself a million and one questions, in walked some brunette bombshell, dressed in a serious pantsuit with her hair done up in a super tight ponytail, makeup that made her brown eyes pop and one too many buttons undone on her white pressed dress shirt. Her push up bra only increased the size of her bust oozing over the top. She was stunning in beauty, and perhaps I was judging her because of her beauty, but once Chase walked in, and I saw the way her eyes lit up; I was definitely judging her by adding floozy in front of that mental description of bombshell.

Chase slid a diet coke across the table to me and feigned a fake soft smile. He sat down next to floozy bombshell and leaned back in his chair in a relaxed fashion. I wasn't sure what it meant by his body language, but he was making sure floozy didn't think he was anything more to me than just the detective bringing me in. In the last twenty-four hours, he had said a few things that convinced me he thought I was innocent. He had gently woken me from a deep sleep with a stroke of his hand across my face and over my shoulder. He had my mind more concerned over the fact that he held more interest in me than what had happened to me recently. That in itself should have snapped me out of my fantasy. But then, while Floozy was tossing pictures out on the table with indication that I was somehow involved, Chase cracked a sensual smile my way and winked. Ugh!

Question after question she tossed my way. Who paid me to kill Bernard? Why did I blow up my friend's house? And then, the question that made me start to laugh that nervous laughter that came out of my mouth anytime I had enough - Who wants me dead by sending the message of blowing up my car and my storage unit? Before now, that thought of wanting me dead had never crossed my mind. Ok, maybe it did a tinsy bit but I as long as Chase had been in my presence, I felt safe and secure. All that had recently happened and caused my feelings to be stuffed deep within me, begin to rise up out of me. Now, I was a mess of bubbling nervous laughter, while Floozy heaved her chest out, stood up abruptly from her chair, and kicked it back, then she slammed the file on the table and walked out.

It took me a few minutes to calm myself down while I watched Chase get up and walk back and forth while stifling a huge grin on his face. Several times, I saw him stick his tongue in his cheek between words. "Well." Tongue in cheek. "That was interesting." Pace back and forth, tongue in cheek. "So we're not getting anywhere by asking you straight forward." He turned the kicked over chair around, straddled it and sat down, looked me in the eye, and I internally heated up into a mess on the floor. "Liza." His voice was low and serious. "We have a set of your prints on the knife that killed Bernard with another unidentified set. The fact that you were with me when the house was blown is questionable. Then you were with your mom and Gail while your car and storage unit blew up . So answer me this at least... who do you think is setting you up?"

I stared at him, thinking he's not admitting to being with me the whole time, last night or all day today. Why was he not letting floozy bombshell, who I was certain was behind the two-way mirror now - I could just feel her glare at me, that I was with him during all of the bombings, and we had discussed several angles of information about the case? It seemed odd that he wasn't being entirely truthful to his FBI partner. I cocked my head sideways and looked at him for a minute. Maybe he didn't totally trust me.

He asked me again. "Liza, who do you think is setting you up?"

"If I knew that, I would have told you already. Seriously Chase, I'm the last person that could kill my blind date."

"Blind date?" He acted as if he hadn't heard this before. He acted as if we hadn't spent a large amount of personal time discussing this case and trying to figure it out. I got the sense that his floozy partner was now behind the mirrored glass playing bad ass cop while Chase sat across from me seductively playing good cop. All the while getting my mojo worked up for me, for the glow. The glow that was never going to happen. I needed to get my wits about myself, toss Chase's good looks out the door and start speaking up for myself and getting real about all this.

A small voice told me that perhaps Chase couldn't let it be known that everything he knew already. So I sat up straight and repeated everything like it was the first time for him.

"Yes. My blind date. My mom set me up with him. I didn't even know he was my date, you know the dead man in the alley. When I first came across the guy in the alley, I thought he was just passed out drunk. It wasn't until I saw the knife, and the blood that I freaked. As you know, you saw me on camera." I proceeded to talk to Chase explaining one thing after another as if he and I had never discussed it before. When I needed to explain Chase as my alibi, the night I went running, I decided on the store camera. It would show a frantic woman running in and then directly out of the store. I used Gail or my mom as alibis when my car blew up, and I gave up any information to Chase that I could that might help explain any of it. But what I offered really didn't make any sense at all. Not as I was saying it and not as I was thinking it - why me?

Like the fact that my mom went to the same butcher for the last ten years. She had her knives sharpened there every time, but she also has her meat cut to the size that she is going to cook it. Hence, my mom had a thing for the butcher. I mentioned the new knife set she bought identical to the old one, and I got the old set. I mentioned that I had used a similar knife to cut off a piece of french bread from my mother's house and put the knife back in the traveling set she had. Knowing she was going to take the knives to get sharpened. That maybe perhaps the butcher knows. That got a huge chuckle and grin out of Chase.

His teasing voice and smart aleck remark didn't make me smile. "So the butcher did it."

Ugh! But now that he said it. Yeah. The butcher is somehow involved in all this. He touched the knives. He might have taken one with my fingerprints on it to set me up, or maybe he was trying to set up my mom. Maybe tireless years of her flirty unyielding banter made him decide she would be an easy cover. My mom and I did look alike, and the actual killer dressed more like my mom. I couldn't freak out or nor could I protect my mom at this moment. Besides she was most likely in the RV park pool flirting with the retirees, discussing the recent fire.

So I prodded on with my next thought. I mentioned that the loss of my job had been because I slept with my married boss. That got an eyebrow raised out of Chase and a stern glare. So sue me, I made a huge mistake. It takes two to tango. I mentioned that perhaps his now ex-wife, or so I had heard it was that way, was out to get some revenge on me. Really, I already learned my lesson, but I didn't want to go face to face with her and tell her that.

I mentioned that since then, both my mother and I had been putting out the word that I was looking for a job. That perhaps the butcher knew something. I got a chuckle out of Chase again.

I had a lot more thoughts in my head, like the housecleaning job. I remembered something back at his house now that seemed odd then and now it could be something more. But I was done talking. If I had to take another chuckle from Chase or sexy grin and wink, then I was going to puke. I finally stood up.

"Are you done questioning me? Because I already posted bail on charges that I killed Bernard. I didn't blow anything up. From here on out, you can talk with my lawyer." Then in a really soft voice. "Once I figure out how to hire one."

Chapter Ten

Chase brought me back late that night. He thanked me for not dragging him in as the only alibi as the FBI was not aware of the fact we had been together all of the previous day and at his loft. I didn't say much but gave him a serious frown. I didn't think he was in on it, but that he wasn't being truthful with the FBI team for some reason. Maybe his feelings for me were there, and they might show through. Either way, I was past the point of exhaustion. It was too late to care. The drive through the RV park showed that the majority of the renters were already asleep. The coned off area with crime-scene tape surrounded the old mobile RV park office and where my car was sent a chill up my spine. The old mobile RV office was half black charred mess and half like nothing happened but a big rainstorm. My cars charred remains were gone now. Probably, in some FBI office looking for evidence. I wished them luck. Because the only bomb I know how to drop is the fart I just ripped, and it was a stress fart, so yes, it stank.

Chase was kind enough to just open the windows on the car and not say anything about the aroma in which I put him in. Moments earlier he told me that he wanted to wiretap me when I went to my house-cleaning job tomorrow at Mr. Zhestakova's. He also asked me to call Mr. Z's make believe parents, the dog walking gig to see if I could still walk Sampson and Delilah. I tossed out there that I didn't think it was a good idea, and he tossed back; it might be the only way to find the person doing all this. I sensed he knew something I didn't. Like the Zhestakova's weren't the bad guys, at least not all the way. Because Chase wasn't the type of guy to put my life at risk. Or was he?

We parted with few words and no kiss. That sucked. He texted me five minutes later that he would be by the RV by eight am to set me up with sound and video before I went off to house clean.

I shut my phone off so I wouldn't need to check anymore texts. My mom always had a way to cheer me up, not - although I will give her credit for trying right now. As she handed me my second margarita while I sat in her outdoor chair, on the fake green lawn, spread out next to her RV, she made attempts to cheer me up. I didn't bother mentioning my whole thought process of the butcher did it or was up to it. She would never believe me. We just sat there drinking margaritas and talking about the weather, her toe nail color and the fact that she was thinking about getting another tattoo. I kept my mouth shut thinking, the age limits for tattoos should be when the artist has to stretch your skin tight, just so they can ink the skin. My mom was cutting it close. However, she had a way of keeping life interesting; that is, when I'm not licking all the frosting off the cake, so to speak.

Our lovely mother daughter moment was failing fast. It usually did. I didn't blame her, more I blamed myself, but I was emotionally and physically exhausted. As soon as some RV neighbor stud came over to flirt with my mom in his Birkenstocks, khaki shorts and palm tree dress shirt, I used the excuse that I needed to be excused. I took one step in the RV, looked around at my temporary shelter, thinking a box under a bridge ain't that bad. I closed the RV window curtains, grabbed a blanket and fell asleep on the jackknife RV sofa that was meant for a much shorter person.

The next morning I woke to my period. Getting messed up birth control pills, then back on them, to then forgetting and then having them burned, caused my cycle to mess up. I was a week early, and it was not a fun thing. I texted Chase to forget about today - I'll get Mr. Zhestakova to let me clean in a few days. Besides the man's house was never dirty. It was as if the dust bunnies just hopped out on their own.

My mother was a morning person, and I was not. She woke with a singsong voice while I laid keeled over on her RV sofa dealing with PMS. I glared at her back with daggers then when she turned to me, I offered a weak smile.

"Get up dear. Days a dawning. You need to get yourself a job, a car and a preferable a man to take care of you."

I stood up in the same clothes I wore last night and groaned. "Ugh! What I need is a triple shot of maximum strength Pamrin." Then I scratched my head and went into the small three foot by three foot space this RV called a bathroom. Who builds these things thinking this constitutes enough space?

By the time I tossed back mouthwash, applied some of my mom's expensive makeup and burned a few curls in my hair that when I clipped it up, I actually looked cute, I heard a distinguishable voice from out in the main area. Chase!

I slowly peeked my head out and saw he had a brown paper bag in hand and a wicked sexy smile on his face. He was dressed in faded jeans and a navy blue FBI tee shirt. He had an official-looking badge clipped to his pants and a freshly shaved face. However, he too, looked like he still needed sleep. I think we both did.

"I brought you a little something. I need to steal you away from your mother." His promise of a gift made me come all the way out of the bathroom. Not staying here with my mother was a gift anyway you look at it.

"Let me just change." I ran into my mother's room and stole a pair of jean shorts, nice fitting navy blue shirt and a pair of her running shoes. That wasn't hard as her flirtatious attention was on Chase and not her daughter stealing her clothes from her room. I changed fast and grabbed my cell phone off the charger on the RV table next to the couch. By the time, my mother turned to acknowledge me and maybe that I was wearing her clothes, I had grabbed the bag out of Chase's hand and practically ran out of the RV.

Chase was two steps behind with my mother right behind him. I overheard some kind of sexual flirtatious comment that my mother was practically shouting out to Chase, as I settled myself inside his FBI cruiser. I looked at my mom through the windshield and waved good-bye as Chase got in on the driver side. I opened the brown bag he was holding and noticed the man was after my heart after all. Inside was maximum strength Pamprin, two Cinnabon cinnamon rolls and in the drink holder in the console of his car was two large Starbucks coffee that wafted of vanilla and cream.

I heard a sexy laugh out of Chase as he asked me. "Don't you want to know what's up?"

"Not really. I am not in the mood for my mom. Scratch that. I am never in the mood for my mom, yet she's the only parent I've got so I guess I'll deal with it. You obviously got my text." I smiled sheepishly, then I bit into the cinnamon roll like it was the last drop of water on earth. The moan that came out instantaneously was the sound that made Chase shake his head and smile while he started up the cruiser.

As soon as we got out on the main street outside of the RV park and stopped at a light, I had half the cinnamon roll gone along with half of my coffee.

"Here's the deal." He started in. "I need you to look at this video I took outside of Gail's house and a few other clips we've got of the woman we are calling Mr. Z's cookie. Don't ask. She got the nickname due to a video you are going to see. Then I need you to text Mr. Zhestakova and ask if you can come by to clean, you are feeling ok after all. Then while you are there, I have a list of things I need you to do. One of them is to log on to his personal computer; I know he never leaves it unattended, but we've got a distraction planned. You will need to punch in some codes, put in this flash drive and copy a file or two, or more." The light turned green, and he started to drive, while my mind started to rush around like a race car. Was he asking me to play spy to a man who might be behind all the bombings?

"Chase?"

"Yeah babe?" Oh god. He just said babe like the way he kisses me. All soft and sensual with longing and desire.

I swallowed hard. "Will I be safe?"

He let out a huge sigh. "Not until we catch this bastard. But we are so close. We got info I can't tell you until this case is closed, but if you can do this, you will be free and clear; that is, unless they really did pay you to kill Bernard?"

"I didn't." I stammered out.

Then his hand reached up and lightly brushed my neck and face. "I know."

The rest of the drive there to the FBI office had me asking questions that he could not answer. Just as we pull up, he drops a load of information on me. "Becca knows about us. It was hard to tell her because she's my partner on the case. However, she knows I was your alibi, and that I am a bit interested in you. So if she comes off kind of harsh, just ignore her."

"And Becca would be?" I looked at him confused.

"The agent in the white blouse that started to interview you then kicked over the chair."

Ah. Blonde floozy with the push up bra that forgot how to properly button up her shirt.

Also, he added this next tidbit of information, that I would have liked to not know, right up there with my mother's true sexually feelings of Chase. "We used to be... bed partners as well."

"Ugh!" I practically screamed it out while gritting my teeth and staring out the window. "Seriously, Chase. Did somebody not teach you boundaries between work and play a long time ago?" He tried to reach out and touch me again, but I shrugged him off. "Look. I get it. She's hot. A little underdressed for work and a bit more concerned with you than her job, or maybe she might have figured out who has done it instead of blaming me. The patsy."

"Liza. You've got it all wrong. This job can be stressful and sometimes, partners are attracted to each other, but it's more one sided on her part than me." Like that comment from his mouth made me feel any better.

"Look." I turned to face him inside the cruiser with a serious mindset that just now I decided that I needed to step up and wear her big girl panties. "I've got a lot more vested in solving this case than you do. So let's keep the personal touchy feeling thing at bay. We are now strictly business. And when I do business, I don't take in bed partners." I practically yelled out the last part of my sentence.

However, Chase was a bit too quick witted with a ditty that did not make me laugh like he thought it might. "Oh really. Than what do you consider sleeping with a married boss to be?"

"Ugh!" I got out of the cruiser and slammed the car door. It was a good thing we were already at the FBI office, or I might have decided to propel the rest of the way there on the steam rising out of me alone.

Chase wasn't far behind and then he ran ahead and opened the door. We went in; he flashed a badge under a red laser thing, went through the body scanner, signed me in, and I followed suit. The whole time he was doing this, he kept looking my way with his wicked smile, which I would simply reply with an eye roll and exasperated breath.

The video watching was tough. It was just Chase and I in a room together, next to each other, occasionally him talking over my shoulder into my ear. His hand touching me. His body, his strength next to me, leaking testosterone laced with a sexual drug that made me even more attracted to him now, even though I knew about Becca, his bedtime bunny mate. Christ. Why could he not have left that tidbit of information to himself? Then again, if I found out later, I would have been even more pissed.

"Liza? I lost you in your thoughts for a second. Did you take a look at the footage and see anyone else that looked familiar?" His voice was caring, and his thoughts were pacing to the tune of his feet going back and forth in the room while I watched a video.

"Chase?" I let out a huge breath of air.

"Yeah, babe?" Him still calling me babe was a term of endearment, and we were at his work. So maybe he was taking risky steps as well with falling for a criminal. Not that I was or could be one, but they had put me in jail for it, and if we didn't figure out this case soon, the FBI might decide I make a darn good patsy just like the thug who set me up in all this.

"Listen, Chase. I'm sorry for blowing up earlier in the car. Let's just blame it on PMS and a really bad week."

"It can't be all that bad." He teased and just then, in pops her blonde bombshell head with her pink blouse halfway buttoned. Did the woman not understand work attire versus bar attire?

"Chase? Can I see you a moment?" She weakly smiled at me and pulled her head back out.

Chase left the room, and I was left to look over the next set of footage. This time it was Mr. Z and model girlfriend feeding him a chocolate-chip cookie at a park. It was as if the two were having sex while she was feeding him the cookie. In the background, there was a playground with children, but that didn't stop them. Now I knew I would have a hard time keeping a straight face while trying to clean his face. Then something caught my eye. Dale Earnheart the classic car shop guy who spelled his last name different than the famous race car driver, but insisted it was one in the same; he had just walked by with his dog in passing in the video. Coincidence? Most likely, because the park they were at wasn't too far from the one I walked Sampson and Delilah at. However, he was a link between me, dog walking, Mr. Z's parents and now possible the cookie model.

I sat there staring at a frozen screen of Dale, thinking it couldn't be possible. He really couldn't have anything to do with it. The butcher made more sense than anyone did, yet there he was on scene and a small part of me questioned anyone at this point that could be the bad guy. Even Chase or floozy bombshell.

That last thought made me still myself and realize that until this is solved; the only two people I know I can trust are Gail and Chuckie. Both of which were more like family to me than my own mother.

When Chase finally made it back into the room, I told him I was ready to be suited up with video and voice recording devices. "I want to get this over with as soon as possible." I stated.

He looked at me in question, wondering if I just meant going to Mr. Zhestakova's or us in general. I didn't imply what I meant. I became very distant yet proactive in finding the person that was setting me up.

Chase quickly picked up on my demeanor and followed suit. I guess he wasn't in the mood to convince me that he still wanted me to be his 'babe' and that I still wanted a glow from him. In reality, I still wanted the glow, but it was now crawling away to find a deep dark place to hide until this is all over.

Chase dropped me off at Mr. Zhestakova's at the agreed upon time. Noon. I was to clean for five hours for the hundred bucks, like always, but this time; his cookie model was there, instead of the normal, Mr. Z in his office and me flittering around his place pretending to clean a house that was already clean.

I was nervous as heck and sweating like a sauna, yet I hadn't even picked up the duster to start dusting. I gave cookie model the wry smile and a head nod to Mr. Z. The video slash audio component looked like a button that was positioned in place of a button on the dark navy blue button-down shirt Chase made me wear. We put it over my mom's borrowed navy blue tee shirt, buttoned it to only mid-way and tied the ends of the dress shirt around my waist. Mind you, it was ninety degrees outside, so I was more nervous about my attire now, since I usually showed up in grubby shorts and a white tank top.

Nobody said anything as I began picking up objects and pretending to dust underneath. Twice, cookie model walked by me with a laser beam of death look. She was in on this somehow, but I didn't know how. I was sure she saw me that day at the church with Bernard's funeral, and I know she was in the crowd when Gail's parent's house was starting to smolder. She was the biggest lead, so I turned my body towards her the last time she walked in; I thrust my breasts out and up, hoping the video got a straight-on look of her in her skimpy sleeveless sundress that hit only an inch or two past her yahoo. The three inch wedged heels were cute though, I would not mind asking her where she got them if I did not think she was setting me up.

I cleared my throat and thrust my chest forward as I proceeded to talk to cookie model. "So. Your Mr. Z's girl? You live or work around here? You been dating long?" She just stared at me and didn't say a word then I stumbled with the only thing in my brain I could think of. "Where'd you get those shoes!" I said it with excitement and like a statement instead of a question. She cracked a smile, raised an eyebrow and walked back out of the room to Mr. Z's office where they had been hanging out. It was the one place he never had me clean. He always hung out in there while I cleaned an already clean house that wasn't really all that big. It was just an expensive location for small houses not too far away from where I used to live and where my dog walking job, Mr. Z's make believe parents, still lived.

I was getting more stressed by the minute. I began to breathe deep and walk about the place dusting, holding pictures of people Mr. Z was with up to the button video at arm's length. On one of the pictures, there was this battery looking thing on the back that fell off. I quickly picked it up and stuffed it in my back pocket. I was too nervous to mention it to Mr. Z or try to fix it. Then as I was dusting a crystal lamp, I notice another battery looking thing that fell down out of the shade. I did the same thing with it as I had done with the other, stuffed it in my back pocket. These were odd-looking things to me but more so, I didn't want to bring them to Mr. Z's attention.

By the time I had everything dusted and was about to break out the vacuum, I had armpits full of sweat. Part stress, I'm freaking here, part the fact I was dressed a bit too warm to be cleaning a house. However, I wasn't going to worry too much longer. My cell phone buzzed with a text from Chase. It's time.

I knew this was the signal that the distraction was about to happen; I just had to text back the go word. And that was a one letter text. K. But I couldn't just yet. My hands were shaking; sweat was pouring down my forehead, and my heart was pounding so hard I was sure it made jack hammering sounds. Chase's text came back again, and I knew I could stall no longer. I put my hand in my shorts and felt the flash drive and summoned it to give me strength. Just then, I started to text back to Chase. As soon as I hit send, cookie model came in the room and surprised the shit out of me. I threw my phone up in the air, then watched it land in slow motion as it came tumbling down, hit the marble tiled floor in the entry way, and the cell phone face plate cracked into a million pieces. I could only hope he got the message.

Chapter Eleven

The loud boom from outside the back of the house, towards the garage, shook the whole house. Cookie model turned to me with a look of guilt. Not hers, but mine. As if she knew I was behind the explosion. She didn't go running to see what it was, like Mr. Z did. He came barreling out of his office and headed straight out of the French glass doors that led into the backyard and the separate detached garage just off the yard. I stood there staring at cookie model, scared out of my wits. I looked at her glaring at me with her hands on her hips, then I looked at my phone and then back to her, then to where Mr. Z took off running and then back to my phone.

I started to smell smoke coming from the back of the house that was wafting in from the French doors being left open. I heard a loud cry from Mr. Z of 'what the....', then a long slur of Russian words that I could only assume were cuss words.

I started to reach down and get my broken cell phone but cookie model was swift and tactical. She held the phone in her hand and looked at it, then looked at me with a nasty glare. By now, the faint sound of fire trucks was working its way here, and I still had to get the flash drive in the computer. Unfortunately, Chase was to text me the instructions on how to do it.

I glared back at the woman who might be responsible for all the trouble in my life lately, from killing Bernard, to Gail's parent's house, my car and my storage unit. I felt an immense bravado build within me as I watched my hand in slow motion go out, palm up; my hip cocked sideways while my other hand lowered to my hip. "Hand it over bitch."

She raised her eyebrows in a quick surprise and then started shaking her head back and forth as to say no way.

I lost it. I went all wild and animalistic like by yelling out a fairly weird sound; I started flailing my arms, and I practically pounced on her by knocking her to the ground. She tried to get out from underneath me, but I believe she underestimated my years of wrestling with Chuckie who has always been twice my size, as long as I can remember. I had her pinned under me with my weight on her chest, my knees on her armpits, and then I did something that caused her to start chocking for air. I ripped a stress fart that rated top notch awful and the worst I have ever farted. While she gagged and chocked for air. I ripped my cell phone out of her hand.

Next thing I knew the front door flew open, and FBI agents, were swarming in through the front and the back French doors. I rolled off of cookie model as the agents were all yelling 'FBI freeze'. I acted as if I had no idea what they were doing, and that I was guilty as charged. I sat on the floor, hands in the air, one of them holding the broken cell phone and the other with a few strands of cookie models blonde hair in my fingers.

They had all three of us cuffed and sitting in separate cars out on the front of the house. Mr. Z was the first to be driven away. Then cookie model. I sat in the third car waiting for Chase or blonde bombshell floozy to come get me. Instead, another officer got in and started to drive. I was a bit confused, but I didn't think asking him anything would get me anywhere but where he was instructed to take me.

Twenty minutes later, I was back in the same FBI office that I had been in earlier that morning, and I was reviewing the tape of me attacking cookie model. Chase stood next to me snickering, and blonde bombshell floozy had buttoned up two more buttons on her pink blouse. I guess Chase must have told her how her half dress attire irked me. That, or she realized way too much cleavage was showing when she checked herself in the mirror since this morning.

Chase spoke up first as soon as the video was done. "So, we realized from the live stream video button on your shirt that you were in a bit of a situation and had a quick change of plans. We were able to pull in the FBI swat since there was a bomb explosion, and Mr. Z is being contained until we have thoroughly searched his house. The original plan was to have you copy onto the flash drive while a small explosion took place out in his trash can, as if a teen did it. However, we could tell cookie model, aka Natasha Travinski, was not taking too kindly to you. You did a great job though kiddo!" He slapped me on the shoulder as an affection of job well done. However, what hurt was the kiddo remark. Where was the 'babe' comment in soft sexy tones he had made earlier?

I turned to blonde bombshell, stood up in my chair and asked. "So, am I free to go or am I still a suspect?" Asking her over Chase got a surprised reaction out of him. He looked at me with a stare of hurt feelings, and I instantly felt bad. I was acting childish. Blame it on the PMS, because I wasn't normally a mean person. I felt the two battery looking things in my back pocket while cleaning that I had almost forgotten about. "By the way, I found these. I don't know if they will help." I slipped them across the table, thrust my chest out and my head high. "May I go now?" I had to ask again because Chase was looking at me sadly, while floozy was picking up the battery looking things.

"Unfortunately." Blonde bombshell spoke up professionally. "You are not totally in the clear yet. I'll have Chase here, drive you back home, while I get these checked out." She held up the batteries that I had pulled from my pocket. "We've got a lot of investigation work to go through. IT is running Intel off Mr. Z's computer. I would say if you have anything left that they might be able to blow up; I would protect it." She lightly laughed and that made me irritated. My mom's RV was something, that whoever 'they' is might consider the next great bombcapade. However, even though we didn't get along well, I would hate for that to happen to her. As soon as she learned to drive the big house on wheels well enough, she had every intention of hitting the road. Right now, her daughter, me, was taking up her office space by crashing on her couch. I needed cash, job and a new place to stay. Add to that, a new cell phone.

I cleared my throat and had to ask. "What about the money in my account? I don't know who's deposited it, but I sure could use it. Otherwise I had a small balance before that. Can I get to that as well?"

This time Chase answered me, and he sounded as if he was holding something back. "Your deposit to your account is not linked to this operation. You need to sign some paperwork, and then the money is yours. But Liza?" He looked away from me to blonde bombshell who gave him a look like you didn't tell her, and he shook his head no.

"What?" I asked. I was intrigued and giddy that I had forty grand to my name. However, something in my gut told me that I was not being told everything.

"Listen." Chase spoke up, and blonde floozy excused herself. Probably popped a button on her blouse as her large mountains had been putting a strain on the front of her blouse for the last hour. She should really think about sticking to buttonless shirts with spandex stretch to them.

"You really need to, only access the previous balance you had before the forty grand was deposited. At least for a week. The bank would make you pay it back once they realize its mistake and right now; it's looking like a mistake. If you were not able to pay it back, they could put you in jail, for totally different charges. So just play it safe. If it's cash you need..." He left it open ended in the air.

I bit the inside of my cheek and then bit my lip while looking down at my mom's shoes I borrowed. "I'll figure it out. I mean I won't go on a spending spree just yet. Can you take me back to my mom's now? I'm not feeling so good." I put my hands to my stomach and feigned bad cramps.

Chase shook his head yes and the rest of it; we just played in motion in silence and as if there had never been a single attraction between us, ever. That sliced like a knife to the heart.

Chapter Twelve

A week later, and one new el cheapo cell phone, I had parked myself on my mom's fake green grass, staring at a plastic flamingo stuffed in the ground as its wings were going in circular motion with the slight breeze in the air. It was hot out already, reaching one oh five by the high of the day. However, it felt like it right now. I was in my moms borrowed shorts and a black tank top. My mom came outside of the RV with two ice teas.

My mom was rambling to me before she even closed the door to the RV behind her. "I talked with Mary. You remember Mary dear?" She went on talking like I knew who the heck Mary was. My mom had more flitter friends in her life than flies lay eggs. She had a new friend every minute; she was social that way. She was also good at irritating the heck out of someone whom she had to go out and find new friends. Perhaps why, this on the road gig of traveling around in her RV in a fellowship of like minded women might work. That is if she ever learned to drive the RV, in order to catch up with the group on the road. As it turns out, my mom didn't know how to drive her RV. So for now, this was our casa. The RV salesman had parked it at this RV park for her then went out on a date with her the night she left those nine messages on my machine.

Her cheery voice describing anther blind date she had set up for me, made me spit out a mouth full of sweetened tea with lemon onto her fake green grass, right next to the spinning plastic pink flamingo and tiki torch.

"Oh dear, are you ok? Go get some water from the faucet over there to wash that all off before it attracts bees." As I walked the two RV spots over with an empty plastic tub to the outdoor water faucet in the campground, my mom followed in her pink wedged heels and bright pink capri pants and matching tight tank top. "So Mary has a nephew who sounds perfect for you."

I had heard that before. Bernard was supposed to be perfect for me, and he was dead. However, what I had seen of the dead man before I freaked, he was far from perfect for me. The only man I had in my thoughts was Chase, and that was not healthy as he might be the man who tosses me in back jail if this case doesn't break soon. I was still listed as an accomplice. I wouldn't know if I was free and clear until they processed everything they got at Mr. Z's.

As I pulled the pump on the red outdoor faucet up for the water to turn on, the sounds of the water filling the tub on the ground drowned out my mom's yakking. I let the water run over the sides and keep running, because the sounds of the water spilling into the bowl were far better than the sounds of my mom's voice drilling me with her illusions of how my life should go.

My mom's hand reached out to mine and pushed the water off. "Liza, you don't have many options right now. Mary's nephew is available, well-off and probably wouldn't mind you as a roommate in a short time, because your options are bleak. Making money cleaning one house a week is not looking promising, nor is walking your old neighbor's dogs. Besides, isn't that humiliating? I've got a driving lesson on Friday, and you have a date with Scott Stanley." She said it so matter of fact and oh by the way, that I had to laugh - internally. She had no idea what I had been through in the last twenty-four hours with Chase and at Mr. Z's house, and I was not about to tell her.

I turned and looked her directly in the face. How bad could this Scott Stanley be and how desperate could I be? "Mom?"

"By the way, I got you a few dog walking jobs around here for the next two days. I wrote the names and RV space numbers on a post it on the message board. Just make sure you make a nice impression. These folks are my neighbors. By the way, I forgot to tell you that the hotdog cart guy called your cell phone and fired you when you missed your first day of work. Not exactly the way to keep a job missy."

I had figured that would happen when I didn't show for my first shift. It would have been nice if my mother hadn't answered my phone or checked my messages while I was in her shower. But then again, not too many people seemed to be calling me these days, especially the important ones like people hiring me or Chase.

My mom continued on while I mulled over the loss of my hot dog cart job. "Oh and don't let me forget. I got you a nine am interview tomorrow at the port a potty company the RV uses, Poop Doctor. You know, the pump truck that comes in to suck out everybody's old poop at the dump pump. I talked to the nice young man who runs the truck. They are short on drivers and in desperate need. He will pay you weekly, and if Scott doesn't work out, he's single. About forty four, has a small pooch and is balding but hey, he owns his own business, and you haven't done so well for yourself since you stole that two hundred bucks and moved out on your own."

UGH! How had been borrowing two hundred dollars for a doctor's bill a year after I moved out now get turned into stealing? But with my mom, there was no arguing or discussing this issue over and over. She would remember any scenario as she saw fit. I would go out on that date with Scott and go to the interview with the Poop Doctor. Besides, how bad could the job be? How bad could Scott be?

Friday at ten am, Mr. Poop Doctor hired me. I think he actually hired my breasts, but who was I to argue. He would pay me at the end of next week to give me a boost in finding my own place and a route for sucking poop on the outside edge of town. Now all I had to do today was walk all my dogs for the last time, contact unemployment and if time allowed, soak up some sun in the RV Park pool and get a tan for my seven o'clock date with Scott. With still no idea what he looked like and only a brief phone call, I had very few hopes that he was my dream man.

I saw two missed calls on my phone from Chase while I was in the interview. I hesitated to call him back so I decided if I didn't call him, then I wouldn't get any bad news.

I slipped on the blue bikini I bought at the discount mart just a few blocks away from the RV park. Walking was my only mode of transportation. Thankful there was a bus stop just outside the RV park with a route that would get me to my job and home every day. If I was diligent in not spending, which the discount mart got fifty of my cash, I could be living on my own in an extremely cheap weekly hotel within a week or two.

Gail was going to come by and hang with me at the pool, but her parents needed her to go look at a new house with them. Now that her school was back in full swing, we would live our friendship vicariously through texts, funny emails and ten-minute phone conversations. Her parents told me I had a new roof over my head, as soon as they found their place. Hopefully today, this is the one for them. Their fifth cat was located, but they had already gone out and adopted another one. That made six cats, all of which I am extremely allergic to, a household that smoked, and they were looking at property a half-hour out of town. Not a place I could catch a quick bus ride to my new poop job. So I declined, regretfully to their offer. Although, living at my moms wasn't all bad. Ok, it was, but my 'she drives me batty meter' must have broken because I wasn't doing too bad. Now thinking about Chase nonstop, I was screwed.

The RV pool was empty of sunbathers with skin that was already wrinkled. It was bingo hour at the RV rec room, aka, new mobile office that was parked in an open RV space. The old one that had half burned down was still sitting visible by the pool. The new mobile one was nice. Twice its size, air-conditioning unit on the side, and I even got a thank you gift card from the owner for fifty dollars to Starbucks. A little bird told him that it was my car that got blown up which in turned got his old over insured mobile office, burned down. Sometimes these things worked out well for other people, just not for me.

Ten minutes into my tanning in the pool on a yellow floating pool lounge chair, my nipples tingled before he even said a word.

"Is that your equivalent to a yellow ducky in a tub?" He said it with a sexual connotation to his voice, and I shielded my eyes from the sun to look up at him. Then he added as he held up a small pink package that looked like a gift. "The FBI bought you a new cell phone for helping us break the case."

I looked at him with a bit of doubt. He flashed his sexy as sin smile than admitted. "Ok. I bought you a nicer one to replace the old one. This ones got a nice camera, slide keyboard for texting me, and I bought a case for it so if you drop it, it shouldn't shatter the glass."

I jumped off the yellow floatation device in the shallow end of the pool and climbed up the ladder and out. I heard a low whistle exit his lips, and I turned to see a waggling eyebrow, and if I wasn't mistaken, I had seen that look of admiration before from him. My heart fluttered.

I took the bag and looked inside. I pulled out the much nicer cell phone than the el cheapo one I had bought earlier. I looked at him sweetly with a smile and a huge urge to hug him. Instead, I dropped a sentence that made him laugh. "That's so sweet, KIDDO!" I took a light swing to punch him in the gut, and he grabbed my hand and pulled me into his body and dropped his lips to my mouth. It wasn't sweet or innocent. It was a statement. I pulled back first with a bit of confusion.

"Chase?"

"I know. The kiddo comment is just something I use. It was wrong, yet I didn't feel right calling you babe in front of my partner."

"I see. So, I'm still a bit confused. No nothing, the last few days?"

He ran his hands through his brown hair in dire need of a cut, and a bit of stress showed in his eyes. "Things have been twisted. We got quite a bit of information from Mr. Zhestakova's place, none of which I can talk to you about just yet. I do have a few things I can talk to you, but right now, I just want to take you out on a real date, like to dinner again, only just not be pretending to be Bernard."

"I'm confused." I reached down to the pool chair, grabbed my towel, and wrapped it around my waist. I picked the pink package holding my new cell phone in it and slipped on my flip-flops. "Follow me. I need to get dressed any ways. I have a blind date in a few hours." I proceeded to walk ahead of him, and his hand reached out and stopped me cold in my tracks.

"Excuse me?" He looked flustered.

I looked at him over my shoulder with him holding my hand which felt divine, but I was not going to let him know that. "My mother is at it again. Scott Stanley. Apparently, he's really interested after everything my mom has told him about me lately, and he has no objection to taking me in as a roommate if we hit it off tonight."

"Liza? I'm not ok with that." He said it with care and concern to his voice, but our whole relationship had been so confusing, then he dropped a mental bomb on me. "What if I can change your mind? Give me a few dates, starting tonight. Call this guy and postpone. Let me take you out."

"And that's ok with the FBI?" I wasn't sure, but I pulled my hand away a bit thinking that it would be too weird to stay involved if I was still a suspect in all this.

"It will be. Listen, you need to trust me. There are some really strange parameters in this case but as soon as everything is processed you will most likely be in the clear." He took a step forward, and I stepped backwards.

"Most likely is not a guarantee. Trust you, well that is something I have a hard time with. Look. I can postpone this date with Scott, but only for a few nights. I'll tell him I got my period."

That got a huge smile out of Chase. Then I offered my hand to him to walk me back to my mom's RV. "Besides. You did buy me this really nice cell phone, and I always feel safer when you're around." I flashed him a wicked smile and some of the tension I saw on his face melted away.

By the time I got dressed and phoned a very disappointed Scott Stanly, Chase looked exhausted from lack of sleep. "You know, there's a new release rental out I have been dying to watch and Toni's Italian on third hasn't seen me since, eek, well before the bad boss decision." I flashed a smile, and he looked at me with a relieved look.

"Toni's is good. What's the new release movie?"

I grabbed my purse and stuffed in a change of clothes; and just in case, my toothbrush, and some makeup and hair clip. Then I turned to him after not answering him and joked. "I'm not exactly sure, but I think the plot goes something like a gorgeous woman gets wrongfully accused, and a handsome FBI agent swoops in order to rescue her at the moment when the villain is about to kill her to keep her silent."

He chuckled and stood up from the pink RV barrel chair he had been sitting in waiting on me, then he wrapped my face up in his hands and lowered his lips to mine. A soft sensual kiss began to seek out heat and fantasy, and I could easily have gotten the glow right there in my mom's RV, if she hadn't just gasped for air out of shock with a squeal of excitement at the sight of Chase.

"Oh my! I had no idea you two, well; I thought you might be interested in me Chase, not my daughter. I don't play like that." Then she turned and slammed the RV door, and I looked through the tiny window above the minuscule kitchen sink and started to laugh. Then I turned to Chase and put my hand over my heart.

"You evil man, you just broke my mom's heart. And in turn, she just kicked her pink flamingo with spinning wings to the next RV spot. She's a bit pissed if you ask me."

He rolled his eyes and grabbed my hand. "Let's go. I am so hungry we might have to miss the movie and Toni's"

I knew exactly what kind of hunger he was talking about, and it was the type that matched my expectant glow.

Chapter Thirteen

That had been the best night of sex I had ever had, in a really long time, no - ever. No joke. I was woken at the crack of dawn to the sounds of coffee brewing in his kitchen. I looked around and did not see him, then the shower water started in the bathroom, and I smiled to myself. Perhaps, I would join him in the shower. But first, coffee was calling my name, and I just had to answer it.

I walked into his kitchen in only his FBI tee-shirt that hung to my mid thigh and nothing else. My bra and panties were somewhere between his front room and bedroom. My shorts got dropped at the front door, right next to my tank top. My flip-flops were kicked off, and if I'm not mistaken, one of them might have landed next to his fireplace or in it. At the time, I wasn't aiming; I was just getting undressed and fast.

The coffee maker made a gurgling sound, and my attention turned to an open file folder on the kitchen counter top next to it. There were papers, and names, and pictures I didn't relate to. I was being curious waiting for the coffee to finish, and I decided to read through the file. Then I saw a picture of me stapled to a sheet. I flipped the page and the next piece of paper that looked like a report had my name on every other line. I scanned briefly, feeling scared I would get caught then I flipped the page over to the next one out of curiosity. The next page, I saw a name I never recognized and a post-it note next to my bank statement showing I had over two hundred thousand dollars in there as of yesterday. The post-it note simple read: It's time to tell her.

I crossed my eyes and pulled back for a quick set out of surprise. Tell me what? I wondered. Just then, Chase came out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist, another towel drying his hair and an enormous amount of sexual appeal. Instead of a repeat from last night, I held up the paper with the picture of me attached and asked. "Tell me what?"

"Shit." That was it. He cussed a ramble of inaudible words while a look of busted flushed his face. We stood there for a few moments, and I stood there biting my lip. Then when he finally spoke, he was in FBI agent mode.

"We need to get dressed, and then I've got a few things to discuss with you."

"Don't bother. Getting dressed that is. You need to tell me what this is all about." I glared at him, and then backed away out of the kitchen area as he took a few steps forward. He picked up the file and closed it, and I sat at the barstool at the kitchen countertop with his FBI tee shirt pulled down to cover my bare bottom.

"This is work. I was an idiot for pulling it out when I could not sleep last night. After you fell asleep in my arms, I had a few things to do, and I should not have left this out. Rookie mistake."

He said it like it was nothing. I glared at him. "Rookie mistake, Chase? I did not like what I saw in there. My name was all over the place. Mafia names were linking me to things, and I am freaking innocent here. Did we not prove all that yet?"

"Look. I'll give you the two second brief. Both Mr. Z and cookie model, Natasha, talked. Some. Mr. Zhestakova has mafia connections, bad ones. His parents that you walked their dogs are not his parents but employees. He was just getting a sick kick out of hiring you knowing certain things about you. Natasha was hired to give you money into your account by an unknown source. She decided to make a game of it. Mr. Z didn't know she was hired to give you money and keep an eye out for you. She's a very evil chess player, if you knew everything that I know. She set Bernard up to get killed. In fact, once DNA is in; we are certain she was the actual killer trying to set you up. Bernard is associated with the Zhestakova mafia. He was a really bad guy to get a blind date with. How your mom found him, or he found you; we are not sure. However, once they hooked you up for a blind date, Natasha wasted no time figuring out how to kill him and set you up. Also, she is responsible for the bombing of your friend Gail's parents' house, your car, your storage unit and one failed attempt at your mom's RV. I didn't tell you about that because I was the one that found the bomb and took care of it. This all happened right after the arrest at Mr. Z's." He took a deep breath while I stared at him with a zillion questions swirling in my brain like a tilt-a-whirl ride at an amusement park. You know that sick feeling you get after riding it, I had that feeling right now, all while the facts and questions were getting tossed around inside my brain.

He continued on. "Natasha's making a deal. Mr. Zhestakova is making a deal, and I think that there is a missing link. So I have to go in today, later, with Becca and do some more interrogation. We both decided after the last few days that we needed a break. I told her I needed to see you and be with you. She agreed."

Ok. How was I supposed to feel about all this? He is letting his sexy partner in on his feelings for me. He wants to see me, be with me, but he's got all this other stuff going on that pertains to me. Being the patsy in all this, just plain sucks. I was mad he was hiding information from me even though I knew it was his job. Ugh!

"It gets worse." He paused from talking while I watched him get up and start pacing back and forth in his loft. The bay of windows framing his muscular body, pacing back and forth, while his half-naked body would have been riveting any other time, right now there is no sexual lust deep within me wanting to take the towel off of him. If anything, I felt that from what all he had said, the worst was yet to come.

I didn't say anything. At this point, I had decided I felt extremely bare, sitting on his barstool chair in only his FBI tee shirt. I got up and began gathering my clothes, at least the ones in the front room.

"Where are you going?" He sounded worried.

"I just want to get some clothes on." I said it with my back to him as I slid my jean shorts up my legs, one at a time, and then buttoned them. Yes, I skipped the underwear, but really, is thong underwear even worth wearing sometimes. There are just, a teaser to the entree, and quite frankly, nothing was going to glow this morning.

He took a step towards me as if he wanted to wrap me up in his arms, but I backed away with a scared stance and started frantically looking for my other flip-flop. It was in the palm plant, hanging like a tropical ornament on a tree.

"Jesus, babe? You aren't scared of me are you? Not after last night, not after the month we've had and everything I've done for you."

I put on my flip-flops and looked at him cross. "Everything you've done for me?" Then I stopped. I guess if I had to think long and hard with rational emotion. He had done a lot. First being that he kissed me senseless, not once, but several times when I was being considered one of the bad guys. Then, there was the money he spent on me every time I needed something. The emotional presence and sweet little things like Pamrin and cinnamon rolls on the day I start my period. Normal guys don't do that. Guys who want to show they care, do. However, thinking long and hard wasn't an option until I got some coffee. So I did the best I could by asking meekly, knowing the coffee might help digest what he has left to tell me. "I just need a cup of Joe."

He turned from looking off towards the file on the countertop and had a strange questionable look on his face. "You need Joe? Who's Joe?"

I cracked a smile on my face and walked to the coffee maker and held it up. I poured a cup, black, and figured I would forgo my expectant cream and sugar. If he had worse news to come, than black coffee needed to wake my ass up.

"Where's mine?" He teased with his wicked way smile, but I wasn't falling for it. I was still in Missy is Mad Mode and anybody who knew me, knew it was best to tread lightly.

"Get your own damn coffee, Joe." Then I took a huge gulp of the hot black coffee and almost scolded my tongue and throat. The burn actually made me feel something because staring at Chase in his towel had felt numb for the last few minutes, and I did not like the fact that my body was not reacting anymore. It told me I had hit the tilt button on stress, and one more thing could take me over.

I watched him pour the coffee with his back to me. He took it black as well and took a drink. Watching his naked back muscles in motion, did start to do a little something to me. I mean, I am not freaking blind. The man is sculpted and gorgeous. This would be why I gave him a small amount of leeway. That and the fact, I did know, deep down, that he had my best interest at heart right along with solving the case. If I had been guilty, a small part of me knew that he would make it as easy on me as possible. However, since I am not guilty I knew that this was as hard on him to solve as it was for me to live it. I figured I would try to take that into account when he told me the next bit of bad news.

He turned to me with a smile, leaned against the kitchen countertop in his towel, flexing his muscles a bit as he took the next sip of coffee. So I joked to lighten the mood. "It would help me tremendously if you would cover up that body of yours into something other than just a towel, then give me this next bit of information."

He shook his head back and forth. "No can do. I want to keep you sated somehow, and by the way you glimpse at my body when you're not so steaming mad, it calms you."

Oh yes it did. Because truth being the common thing here this morning, I probably would have been a wee bit more pissed off if he wasn't half naked. I let out a light laughing sigh and decided I would wait for his gripping information.

We both drank our coffee in silence. He brought over the coffee pot, refilled my cup and offered to get me cream and sugar. "Please." I answered politely. Trying to ignore his touch with his hand as he poured the coffee into my cup with his other hand. It was hard to ignore that when he touched me, I felt the zing, the zap, the butterflies, and my heart softened.

He put cream and sugar into my cup and stirred, then he refilled his own cup. He sat down opposite of me on the barstool, which caused the towel to open almost all the way up to his train station. Although there was no train ready to depart like when we first got here last night, the image flashed in my brain any ways. I had a feeling whatever he said next would not really affect me that bad.

He laid his hand on my knee while leaning towards me. His eyes grew soft and his voice serious. "Liza? Your dad paid Natasha to transfer money into your account from hers, so that it would hide who was really giving you the money. She was to tell you that she was a foreign lottery operator, and somebody had put your name on a winning ticket. She was to deposit a million dollars to your account minus what would have been taxes and fees so that you didn't suspect that it came from your biological father."

"And who would that be?" I leaned back and flash closed my eyes in disbelief then opened them with a perplexed look.

He let out a huge sigh and sat back with a worried look. "I can't tell you yet. It's still too dangerous."

"What? I thought you said I was safe. In fact, if I remember correctly, last night after your train entered my station for the second time, you told me how safe I was now that things were wrapping up, and it felt good for you to hold me in your arms knowing you did not have to be on high alert all the time. What the hey, Chase? Am I safe or not?"

"You are." He squirmed in his seat then stood up to reach out and pull me in for a hug.

I slapped his hand away and scowled. "Then tell me who the heck my father is." I glared at him with all the pain and hurt that I felt, deep down, inside of me. A man, who knew he had a daughter and never reached out to her with this exception of guilt money. I wanted to know and now was the best time.

"I can't tell you." He turned and started to walk to his bedroom, presumably to get dressed.

"Stop right there bub. You tell me right now who he is, if you know and don't tell me than you can forget about a you and me, or an us." I had tears streaming down my face. I knew tossing an ultimatum out there against his job versus me was a tough decision, but I wanted him to make it, and it needed to be me. I knew he had done things from the get-go that wasn't protocol or even remotely ok with his job, but he did them any ways. So why not now? Why not now, could he just tell me the information and let me figure out the rest on my own?

He looked at me with a hurt worried look as he rubbed his neck with his hand, the same hand that had been places last night and brought me to a euphoric explosion that I looked away to the window and took my eyes off him. "Liza? I simply can't tell you yet. I may not be able to tell you at all. It's complicated. He's a dangerous man."

I whipped my head back to his direction and glared. "Who's dangerous, Chase?"

"Your father. He's definitely not the type of man you'd give father of the year award to. In fact, I would rather you not take the money, considering where it might have come from. I'd rather you go on with your life not knowing the type of genetic material made the other half of you. That's not who you are at all, and if I was you, I would even get a DNA test to make sure once you do find out. However, I can't tell you right now. It's still part of the investigation. There is still some piece of the puzzle we are missing and Natasha is done talking. She told me yesterday morning that the rest of the deposit will show in your account in the next few days so that she has met the contract she agreed to by your father, yet I think there is something more."

"Tell me my father's name Chase!" I practically growled it out. I didn't really give a two hoots about Natasha.

"Babe. Natasha was toying with you. Killing Bernard was to be a set up on you so that you could go to jail. Bernard just happened to be related to the Zhestakova Mafia. Natasha has no political tie-in to any of them. Mr. Zhestakova honestly thought she was attracted to him for his looks and money. She knew they had their eye on you and hired you because of who your dad was. She knew, that they knew you didn't know. Does that make sense?"

"So what? She was hired to give me money but decided to make a game of it. Who cares? I just want to know my father's name, and if you don't tell me right now, I... I won't like you anymore."

Unfortunately, a small smirk cracked my lips when I said I would not like him anymore. That was impossible, especially after everything we had been through together. He shook his head back and forth then looked at me with a tilt of his head downward and his eyes aiming up. Then he said the next word in a teasing manor. "Impossible."

For some odd reason, I decided to let the negative emotion of everything that had happened to me since childbirth, my mother's oddities, my lack of father figure, my terrible choices in dating - one of them married, my inability to hold down a job or live a life that every little girl dreams of becoming something, and I just hadn't figured it out yet. That negative emotional drain summoned up my raging bitch hormones, and I glared at him. "Nothing's impossible Chase. Tell me who my father is."

He turned and walked away. Maybe it was because he was sensing my negative energy through my glare and stance, and the fact that I even felt it pulling me into this vortex of a black hole. I picked up my coffee cup, still full, and threw it at him. Lucky for him, I was a bad aim, and it hit what looked like a pricey piece of contemporary gallery art. The cup shattered against it, and Chase's look of hurt and confusion glared back at me. "I'm getting dressed." He said it in his FBI agent voice.

I ran at him screaming like a wild woman, pounding my fists and one of them landing squarely on his eye. He didn't fight back, in fact, he tried to hold me, but after I hit his eye, he turned to his room and then slammed his bedroom door.

I stormed out of there like a crazy witch on a broom. I had on his FBI shirt, no bra, no undies, jean shorts and bare feet, because the flip-flop strap broke while running out of his place. I ran like hell out of there and made it three blocks away before I finally caught my breath. Glad I had at least the brain cells to grab my purse as I charged out of there. Chase hadn't come running out after me, because he was probably nursing the black eye I just gave him. I had just let my years of emotional rage and recent confusion out on the man I loved with physical negative behavior, and I felt like shit.

As I ran, I wondered why he couldn't tell me just yet. He, being my dad, was involved in this case, what the heck did that mean? Why after all this time, did the man want to give me money? Then a question popped into my head, did my mother really know who my father was? If so, a million dollars is a lot of money that he had to give, after all the years of struggling financially when I was young, why would she not go after him for the cash? It made no sense.

I looked in my purse for my cell phone and realized it must still be sitting on his kitchen counter on its charger. I looked around for a payphone and realized; they don't exist anywhere anymore. I flagged a cyclist on the bike path by the river and asked to use his phone. I called Chuckie, knowing he was out looking for property with multiple garages with his parents. He answered on the second ring and told me he would be there in five. I guess he was still at the Motel Haven off the highway, and they had not left yet. I thanked the cyclist and then I leaned against the tree that had sparse shade in the parking lot of Chase's industrial loft building.

I didn't have to wait long until Chuckie's new monster truck, or soon to be monster truck, came roaring up on all cylinders. He took me back to the hotel, dropped me off with the key and gave me a big brotherly hug. As soon as he was gone, I took a long hot shower, removing any scent of Chase off of me. I found my cell phone and charger in the side pocket of my purse. I guess I had never set it up on the charger last night after all, considering my distraction. I tossed his FBI shirt in Chuckie's laundry basket, aka, large black trash bag and ruffled through Gail's hotel dresser for clothes. I snagged a pair of navy cotton shorts, black bra that was a bit snug and a blue tee shirt. I grabbed a pair of socks and Gail's running shoes she never wore because she had those darn nursing shoes attached to her feet.

I took my new cell phone and noticed that the battery life on this phone was much longer than my previous el cheapo one. I texted Gail that I was at the hotel and two seconds later my cell phone rang.

"I was worried about you. I got your text that you were going out with Chase but then nothing else. How'd it go?"

I let out a huge sigh. I could tell her everything, but she was stressed to the max with her residency that I decided a short edited version for now would have to do. "It went great. He's incredible. I'm a louse. I got mad this morning, and it's complicated. I just miss you. How are you?"

"Stinking busy. The ER had an atrocious night last night. I'm almost to the end of my shift. I've got four hours before class, so I was just going to find a place around here to nap. Staying at the hotel with Chuckie's snoring is awful. I've got a line up on a place with two rooms by the hospital. I think I'm gonna rent it and just get loans for the rest of school. You want to be my roomie?"

I laughed. "Do I ever. Go finish your shift. Text me from school if you can. Otherwise, I'll be here tonight. When Chuckie gets back, I'll have him swing me by my moms to grab some stuff. After our argument, I don't care if Chase gets upset if I share a bedroom with Chuckie. I'll deal with the snoring."

"So your mom finally drove you nuts that you cracked?" She started to laugh. I knew it wasn't that, it was the fact that I had a feeling my mom knew who my dad was and never told. I didn't want to bring up the conversation with her because it would entail serious emotional rage, I didn't have anything left in me to fight.

As soon as I hung up with Gail, I decided I needed to go for a walk. I ended up walking aimlessly, thinking about my dad and who he might be and how could he possibly be mixed up in all this. I wondered if I should tell my mom, and would she be in just as shocked as I am right now or would she admit to knowing all along. Then my thoughts lingered to Chase. Our night before. His tender kisses and soft loving strokes over my skin, telling me I was the most beautiful woman and how happy he was that things were finally working out.

Before I knew it, I was back at my old stomping ground and the park where I use to walk Sampson and Delilah. I sat down on the very bench I use to sit not that long ago to read the paper and search my phone for jobs. The park was looking rather empty as there was an impending storm brewing, looking like a possible tornado or hailstorm. However, I figured I would just sit here and tempt fate and God to strike me down with lightning. It was that or have to deal with society, which I didn't really want to do, nor did I want to start the poop job tomorrow. Thinking about the money I had coming in from my biological father got me to think that no matter where it came from, I was going to use some of it. Some for a car and rent, maybe some shoes to replace the ones I had to sell just to eat. Then other women will be coming up to me asking where I got those shoes, and I will beem with a smile. I mean, how bad of a dad could my father be that he made a living at. Then I thought about who he is and where he lived at. I decided to leave that thought until tomorrow.

Now a normal person would be at the bank right now, out buying a car and some clothes. But I am far from normal. I was caught between the realms of reality and make believe. Everything since the day I headed out on the date with Bernard, seemed like make believe. I missed the reality I had before deciding to sleep with my boss at my old job that I use to love and paid enough to keep me in nice shoes and great music, which had been my reality. A place I missed dearly, because it involved, shopping with Gail and listening to music with Chuckie. However, it didn't involve Chase, nor would it have ever involved him if the whole Bernard thing hadn't happened.

Therefore, I sat there thinking, should I be thankful or pissed. When something next to my ear scared the crap out of me, and it wasn't a big creepy crawly, it was the butt end of a pistol and when I turned to see who was holding the gun, it was the last person I suspected. However, he was on my suspect list way back there in the depths of my brain that keeps thinking when everything has been shut off.

Dale Earnheart, misplaced and misspelled identity along with being the owner of a classic car shop, and I guess if I was honest with myself, he wasn't looking anywhere as near as handsome as Chase. He was looking downright pissed in his dark hoodie covering up his gorgeous locks of blonde hair, his dark running shorts and a look on his face that said he wanted to kill me. That was a far cry from the day we talked.

I suppose when I didn't look scared or confused, Dale decided he needed to talk. His first words out of his mouth did not surprise me. "That bitch Natasha just can't seem to get the job done, so I guess I will." So Natasha was supposed to finally kill me off. Then why all the bomb exploding. However, Dale was going to explain that without me even asking. "She's like a damn cat with a ball of string. She wanted to mess with you first, set you up for murder, make your life miserable piece by piece. Get the deposit job done and get paid by your father. Yet, that idiot had no idea what kind of can of crap he opened the minute he let the world know you are or shall I say were his daughter." Now his voice held the distinct tone of a Russian, not the man I met at the park that day.

I cleared my throat to talk, but that was not going to happen. What I remembered correctly about the man was he liked to talk and mostly about himself. I listened to him rambling on, thinking if he was going to kill me get it over with, instead of yakking his yammers. I large bolt of lightning felt like it struck behind me, and I jumped up screaming as Dale acted like he got a sliver of the lightning bolt up his ass and jumped up straight and high.

With some odd cat-like reflexes I had no idea I had in me, I grabbed his hand with the gun with both of my hands and put my arms rigid straight keeping the gun from being aimed at me or near me. By the time I had his hand with the gun facing the sky and was trying to get him to empty the bullets into the perils of blue way, way, up above, I heard a distinct voice mixed with a few others, scream. "Drop it. FBI. Freeze."

Well, I wasn't going anywhere, but I wasn't taking my hand off Dale's hand with the gun. I was not in the mood to chance it. Chases voice pleaded with me, as I shook my head no then I felt the volts of a Taser shoot through me. Having no idea that so did Dale and his volts must have been higher. He dropped first, and I followed suit like slithering worm with no arms or legs. I thought I felt my eyeballs roll back into my head and a felt some drool or snot on my face. Either way. I was not feeling so good right now.

By the time I was halfway coherent, it wasn't Chase standing over me, but blonde floozy bombshell. Chase was handcuffing Dale and he - Chase - had a black eye. Oops.

I got myself pulled together and decided that I needed to ask the man who was about to blow my brains apart. "What the hell Dale? I thought you were...?" I didn't get to finish. Chase was leading him away in handcuffs, and I was staring at the man I love walk away. Just then, a huge flash of lightning echoed out in the park, and I shuttered with fear that I had a feeling my life wasn't over being strange and chaotic. That didn't set well with me at all.

Then Becca offered me a hand and said something that explained how they found me. "Good thing you started using that new cell phone Chase got cha. It's got a tracking device on it, and we just found out who paid Natasha to kill you." She nudged her head in the direction of Dale Earnheart. "He's a crazy son of a bitch. Good thing for you, he likes to talk, or we might have been too late." I gulped hard and thought. Yah, good thing.

Two days later, Gail and Chuckie took me to court. Not to get my hearing in place or give moral support, just to sign some papers that said I was free and clear. My mom would get the lien on her house released, and Chuckie would get his cash and liens back to his truck. He never bothered to let the bail bondsmen know they got blown up, but Chuckie's insurance sent him a nice check.

I texted Chase I was sorry, but he didn't text back, nor did he call. I got it. He was thinking; this bitch is crazy, like her mom and there is no sexual desire strong enough to last through all of this.

However, things were looking up. Gail, Chuckie and I had a really great drunken night reliving the entire last month and discussing everything that had happened to me. Gail kept it in prospective and positive. Chuckie offered to kick the FBI agent's ass again and take on the Mafia, which Gail and I quickly talked him out of. Then Chuckie put several more photos of himself on my phone, which Gail deleted most for me when I wasn't looking. I had a date in two nights with a Scott Stanley that had no freaking idea of what my last few days had really been like, not the she's on bed rest and taking easy days that he must have been thinking. If he knew the truth, he wouldn't want to date me.

I decided to take part of the cash in my bank and found a car for two thousand at the, 'Let's Make A Deal' used-car lot. I wasn't a big spender in cars, and I was slightly afraid the bank may still want the money back or that it might get blown up. Seeing as my dad is in jail with a life sentence since, oh the age I turned three. Chances are that the cash I got paid was not cash I should have received. That was under investigation. Although, knowing it came from a man sentenced for killing others and human trafficking, I didn't want it any ways.

I guess when my mom told me she knew, but didn't want me to know that I was part of a man who did the things he did, I realized she may have some kookiness to her demeanor at times, but she did raise me and protect me from the evil life my dad was involved in. I decided to give her some slack the next time she accused me of stealing the borrowed money, ogled my boyfriend, or just plain made me nuts.

I found a nice two bedroom, two bath apartment right next to the hospital so that Gail and I could be roomies, unfortunately with we had to wait two more weeks until the current tenant moved. The place she had found had out bid us. So I decided to withdraw a little bit of cash from the bank to secure the next place in writing. Living next to a hospital is a hot commodity with employees and residents. I had my first two days of work pumping poop. It wasn't so bad considering the alternative. By the second day, the owner decided that I was more qualified to office work and getting new contracts as I had made three new large scale clients part of his business, causing him to hire more workers. I figured if I had to have a job associated with shit, I was going to be the best shit person I could. That and Chuckie helped in convincing the three contacts that this company was the 'shit'. All of them associated with monster truck show poop dumps. That boy, will have my heart strings forever.

I was still using the cell phone Chase got me with the tracking device. A small part of me hoped he would forgive me and track me down. For now, I was just going at this thing one day at a time.

Chapter Fourteen

I watched his weary looks from afar. I don't think he had any idea I was in the park, across from him on the other side of the water fountain. I had just gotten an ice cream cone and was sitting in the sacred shade of a big old tree, trying to stay cool out of the heat. I was more into the privacy of this tree and the shade than anybody daring the heat at the park. I picked this spot, so I could watch the water fountain dance around, letting it take my mind off all that happened recently. Somehow, I felt his presence before I even saw him walk down the path through the park. I saw his normally confident stance slumped at the shoulders, hands shoved into the pockets of his tan cargo shorts and his head looking more down than ahead to where he was walking. I watched him sit on the empty painted park bench, set his elbows on his knees, his head between his hands and rake his fingers through his thick lush hair. Oh how I wanted to be his fingers at this moment.

I couldn't help myself. The man who had turned my life upside down and made my stomach dance with activity every time he was around, and still he was the man I was truly infatuated with. I couldn't have a daily thought that didn't have him in it somewhere.

I felt the ice cream melt down my hand, and I quickly began licking up the mess I had made from ignoring it by staring at him. By the time I had licked my way around my hand, cleaning up every dripping drop and devoured a few good licks on top for good measure, he was standing over me looking like sin in his replica of Abercrombie & Fitch clothes. Somehow though, I don't think that was his intension when he got up and got dressed today, that was just him putting on clothes and me thinking that someone should make him their cover model.

"Uh hum." I heard him clear his voice to catch my attention to his eyes instead of wander up his body and thinking how nice it would be if my hands were my eyes.

I started to attempt to stand up from the nice soft grass spot I planted myself in. "Hey." I choked out as I finally took his hand that he offered to help me up. I felt his strength with the pull of my body upwards, then I lost my footing and practically fell into his rock-hard body standing there like a brick wall. I might have helped my body slam forward just a tad, but you can't blame a girl for trying. I did, however, make sure my ice cream didn't end up all over him.

"Careful now." He whispered into the side of my neck and held me in close with his hand still in mine. "I would hate to have you lick that ice cream off my body." His sexy voice resonated through my brain, and a fog drifted over me, as I was sure I let out a throaty soft moan from just his words. Then I did something so me; I dropped my ice cream on his foot and sandals.

He took a step back and let out a light laughter while dropping my hand. "Or I could just clean it off my foot."

"Oops sorry." I blushed and looked down at his foot, realizing that the ice cream was good but having that short moment pressed against his body was even better.

I watched him walk over to the drinking water fountain. He took off his sandal and shook the remainder of the melted ice cream off and then rinsed his shoe off. Then I watched him fill his cupped hand with water and wash his foot off. He did that a couple times while I stood there silently staring at him, trying to deal with the feelings he stirred deep within me.

I finally got up the nerve to stand next to him at the fountain and watch him wash his hand off now. Then I reached my hand in next to his to wash off any ice cream that had previously melted onto my hand. Our hands touched and I felt the sensation of need and desire start to build. When I was done, I cleared my throat and blurted it out. "So where are we in the case?"

"We? As in you and I, or as in where is the case at?"

I stood there wondering where the, you and I suggestion might have come in, and stared blankly at him not answering than I started blinking my eyes in triple time. I was trying to ward off an eye twitch that always appeared when I got stressed. I was thinking that the chances of a him and me, the you and I, was something he wanted to leave alone for now. I mean it would only be the smart thing to do since the last time I talked with Becca, when he wouldn't return my calls, she told me that I was safe from anyone that wanted to harm me, and that I would not be needed for the trial as everyone involved was taking a plea bargain. That was a relief then, but now that Chase stood in front of me, I wanted an us - together.

Finally, I spoke up after his eyes had wandered up my body, feeling like laser beams that could see under my clothes, and I stood there mentally wondering if he could notice the five extra pounds I have put on from all the stress. Ok, maybe it was ten, but I was wearing a tight black tank top, and it always felt slimming. "The case. You know the money in my account. Is it something I'll have to pay back if I spend, not that I want to now that I know everything about my dad, but I had to buy a car and get an apartment rented. Although, I am working now, and I plan to pay it back. But Becca mentioned that they had to clear up if the money my dad gave me was his money to give."

He let out a light laughter and let his hand touch the side of my face while putting a stray hair behind my ear. "It's yours. All of it. The money he gave you was the money that has been in his family for years, not mafia money, not human trafficking money, but money that his mother's side of the family had. Everyone on who would have been your grandmothers side has passed, and you are the sole inheritance. If it wasn't for that, then I don't think he would have reached out to you, knowing there was a chance he would have put your life in jeopardy. However, as soon as he hired Natasha, who he thought was the safest person, everyone in that circle of greed found out."

"Wow. I don't know what to think." I looked up into his blue-green eyes and smiled, feeling a warmth spread throughout my body.

"Oh. I don't know. I can think of a few shoe shopping places that might take your money." That caused both of us to laugh.

I really must be honest with myself, what was driving me the craziest was Chase, not the fact that I had almost a million dollars to spend. He was in my dreams or more like fantasies when he should be part of my nightmares. He was all I could think about during the day, making my job a bit more tolerable, and as he stood before me, he made my body tremble with excitement that can never be fulfilled and that - was what was really making me crazy.

I finally got out the words he was waiting for while my mind did an internal mumbo dance. "Chase I miss you."

He didn't hesitate in replying with words; he let his lips drop to mine, and a kiss pursued that rivaled the heat of the day. When I pulled away, he kissed the top of my head by holding his hand up to the back of my head and whispered into it. "I missed you kiddo. I missed you bad."

I laughed. "I prefer babe but just to have you say anything to me right now makes me feel better."

"Let's go somewhere to cool off. It's a record heat today, and I've been tracking you on that phone for the last hour, trying to find my nerve. Then we hit this dead zone for cell phones, and I wasn't sure which direction you walked after the fountain."

"I'm glad you found me. Air conditioning sounds wonderful right now."

He walked over and grabbed my purse I had left lying on the ground next to where I had been sitting and handed it to me. "Great." He chuckled as he handed my purse to me by its strap. I put it on my shoulder and offered my hand, which he took. We started walking down the park path towards the small strip of shops, one that had the ice cream shop where I got my cone.

We hadn't walked but a block together in silence when I could just feel one of us wanted to burst at the seams over our excitement to be here together, holding hands, not worrying about being blown up or if he would have to put me in jail anytime soon. I felt this sense of serene calm, and as soon as we kissed and pulled back I had watched the weight of the world drop from his shoulders. "Liza?" His voice held question. Then I heard him say my name two more times but with more sensuality then question. "Liza... Liza."

I took in a deep breath and let it out as I felt so delicious inside with the thought of just one more kiss from Chase. One more kiss that could lead to so much more. As I let out my breath, I let his name roll out of my mouth with a whisper. "Chase."

He stopped walking and turned to me. He let his gaze penetrate my soul, and he smiled wickedly. "I'm parked by the ice cream shop and so are you, but my next question may be a little too formal. But here I go. I was wondering if maybe we could just head to my place to cool down and catch up or make up?" He said the words make up in such a sexual sense I knew he wasn't talking the kind a woman puts on her face, but the kind that puts a glow to her skin, clears out the cobwebs, puts the train in the station, sends out the batman beam of light.

I laughed out loud to my internal mish-mash of terms rambling through my brain thinking about the fact, there is no other place I would like to be right now on this crazy hot Sunday in the park, then to be with Chase, naked in his loft, sweaty not because of the heat of the day and cooling off in the shower after. Because I never did get the chance to play rub a dub dub in the tub with him.

"So is that a yes?" He put me at arm's length and tried to look into my eyes that were looking down from my internal laughter.

I looked up and gave him my own wickedly delicious smile. "That is a yes sir!" I said it in a mocking tone I had used to joke with him before. Next thing I knew his lips were in my hair as his arms had me in a hold, and I was sure we just did two three sixty degree turns with my feet off the ground.

Once we finally stopped spinning, and my feet felt ground beneath them, I put my hands behind his head this time and pulled him down to my lips for one heck of a kiss. In all the tongue twisting sizzling sensations I got from kissing the man I love, I let a thought seep in. Life with Chase was going to be pretty dang great. Add in the extra cash and Gail and I are going to have one heck of a shoe closet.

Moments later as we were practically sprint walking back to his car, hand in hand, he tossed a bombshell out on me. "By the way. Just so you don't think I want you for your money. My family does pretty darn well and that loft I live in was paid in cash; my retirement is well padded, and I'm an FBI man, just so that I can pick up on hot chicks like you."

I let a wry laughter exit my lips. "Well. Babe! You ain't gots to look no further." Stating it in a slang version.

He leaned over and kissed my lips mid stride and pronounced loudly to the world. "No I don't, because I got you babe!"

The End

Author Note: No cupcakes or sticky frosting fingers took participation in this book. Although I have to admit a few McDonald's chocolate chip coffee frappes with a huge dose of whip cream dollop and large amount of caramel and chocolate drizzle did. Those hard workers new my Prius when I was driving up and jonesing for a caffeine brake mid chapter. I'd like to think my witty conversation and big smile gave me the extra whip cream and drizzle but I think it was I just have a decent McDee's in my hood. It was usually after a day of oh heck, scratch that chapter, add this and what the heck was I thinking when I wrote that - that I found my car keys, wallet and hit my sunroof button for a quick drive in the sunshine.

I actually had a lot of fun writing this book. It's my third mystery. Dead Men Don't Blink Twice was my first. Lucky Leprechaun was a mix of fun fiction with mystery as my second. This is my third attempt. However, as much as I like writing sultry chick lit romance like, She Doesn't Play Well With Others or I Can Do Stupid All By Myself. It's nice to take a break and write mystery twist mixed with quirky characters and things blowing up. I mean who else could deal with all that Liza went through. I know I couldn't. However, I like to write things that make you think - but not too hard. Make you laugh - when you are least expecting it. Make you think you know the villain when really it could be someone you didn't suspect all along. Or maybe, you did?

I'm going to let you in on a little secret, sometimes when I write something, the plot starts out heading west but in the end it goes back east because after mentally thinking about twenty potential plots or twists I like to put in something that just pops in my head that makes me think, 'hmm that could work, hope the reader likes that'.

This hobby turned career is not something I grew up thinking I want to be a writer when I grow up. Although I have always enjoyed writing creatively, it was more along the lines of how to I make that ad copy pop when I had a real world career to how do I convince my boss it's time for a raise. When I was in Catholic school, elementary years, I wanted to be a nun. I had already kissed several boys by then and had no freaking idea that nuns didn't get to... uhm, kiss boys or maybe I did and I was a bit defiant...

So here I am in a chosen field of motherhood, stay at home with occasional lapses into the working world and realizing that I REALLY wanted to work. Yet I ended up spending countless hours writing creative stories as a hobby and telling my girlfriends the plots I was working on and spending time at coffee shops discussing the whole 'what do I want to do with my life' conversation. Two years later, I work from home with my writing. Every now and then, I might fill in some time with a temp job, but for the most part I keep having these quiet voices in my head urging me on to write the next story. They don't shut up until the book is done and I am finding these one way conversations with my characters at stop lights bring me way too much attention for my own good. Just kidding. I don't actually talk out loud.

I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I did writing it. I'll take any good reviews you got and if you need to give me a bad one, I'd like a receipt with that so I can return it.

I've got two more in the final stage of the chopping block: Death at the Chocolate Spa - mystery and Common Sense Doesn't Become Me - chick lit. If I am lucky and productive, I should have them out by the end of this year.

Visit my other titles by CJ Hawk at <http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/cjhawk>

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When trouble strikes, Kia is there. If disaster is dealt, Kia holds the cards. If catastrophe is calling, Kia will answer it. All a girl needs to cope with all of this is her three best friends and maybe a handsome hero. Old Sheriff Cleat has had his fair share of bailing Kia out of trouble or coming to her rescue, but the last one has put him out of commission. There is a new Sheriff in town, and the local women are all a twitter - literally. Kia gets her first run-in with the handsome new sheriff just after she runs her car up a hillside while watching him jog without his shirt on. By week's end, the new sheriff is beginning to think that Kia is either short for catastrophe, or she is trying to find ways to spend more time with him. Kia's best friends have spent a lifetime of dealing with Kia and her God given attraction to trouble, but they also know Kia needs a man like the sheriff to keep her in line and bail her out once in a while. While Kia quickly becomes short on temper with the handsome hero, she isn't short on need and quickly realizes that having a man like the sheriff on her side isn't such a bad idea after all, but will the corner of Trouble and Catastrophe keep them apart?

Hollywood takes in Alabama, but not for long. One woman thought she wanted the glamorous life but what she got was a backstabbing best friend and her spot on prime-time television for the entire world to see. Back home, no one seemed to care that she had gone and screwed up her life, but there was one question on the tip of her own tongue that kept repeating itself. "Why'd you have to go a do a thing like that?" Not once did she see it coming, but when she went about making the same mistakes back home in Alabama, she knew she needed to get her wits about her. Only problem was, that the one man who mattered most might have decided she was too much drama to handle. It wasn't her fault that she was born with a magical drama disaster wand or was it? Could she learn to be the woman she was raised to be and let the man of her dreams know how much she loves him back, or is it too late, and he decides that loving her hurts too much to be rejected again? Sometimes a southern man knows that if you love someone, she is worth it all in the end. Can this starlet claim Sweet Home Alabama once again? Favorite quote that describes it all. "I was born with a tiara on my head and magical wand that created plumes of drama whenever I waved it."

Can one very feisty artistic woman find comfort and forgiveness in the arms of a man who killed to protect our country, serving as a Navy Seal? It takes a calm levelheaded man to face up to the attitude of one Natasha Kova, a famous artist; whose paintings sell for a price more than Sam Cole's Harley. Natasha's life did not start out easy, and her lack of trust was understandable but Sam Cole wanted nothing more than to love her and protect her. Would Natasha's jealousy and lack of trust push Sam away or would he follow through at the end and not leave a man behind to succumb to their own devices? The passion these two feel could be the explosive device to end their relationship, or it could very well be the reason they find each other in their loving arms once again.

What happens when a book shy girl, grows up dreaming about her next-door neighborhood boy as her dream fantasy man to marry, then runs into him while trying to find her wild side. When Mary Catherine O'Reilly, Mary Cate to her friends, finally succumbs to her best friend's wishes to take her lifestyle up a notch, crazy and wild things happen. Crazy as in doing things a reserved kindergarten teacher would never think about doing, wild as in experiencing the best orgasms of her life with the man of her dreams in places she would never have thought possible. When one-man tugs at your fantasy heart strings for so long and then to have it happen for real, a girl can fall hard. Only one problem, when that man finally gets to fulfill his dreams of having her and is afraid to commit, he can find many ways to make her feel as if he just doesn't have the time now.

A wrench gets thrown in her plans to get wild and crazy for one summer, when her best friend who started all this, ups and marries a man she has only known for twenty-four hours in Vegas. What is even crazier is, the man her best friend marries, is her fantasy man's older brother. Planning a wedding, the demanding MIL insists on throwing, so that the marriage can be celebrated by the entire family causes irritations to rise. Mary Cate finds herself in a tug of war of emotions with the man of her dreams. Can one crazy fast planned wedding bring them together again or will Mary Cate decide she needs a man who can commit instead of finding ways to go around commitment?

Caribbean bound with her best friend until a sip of bad luck makes everything go foggy and dark. Next thing Katy Beck knows is that either her best friend is playing a bad joke, or she just stole her husband, her money and her looks. To make things worse, she just got dumped on the porch of an old run down shack in the middle of a mountain with only her beach bound attire.

Katy had a way of making the worse seem better and maybe a good guardian angel or two. As luck would have it, she was plopped right in the lap of one very hot war hero and famous journalist. However, life isn't always as easy as it seems and Katy wants to make sure she offers more back in her life then a set of DDs and a pretty smile.

With every trick of the trade, Sabrina left a trail of misery for Katy. However, that is nothing a good sense of humor and new friends can't take care of. Plus, a little shiny thing called gold doesn't hurt either.

Sidney Sampson had no idea that one fateful day; while doing fieldwork, investigating a dead officer's crime scene, her whole life would change. One man, who should be dead, flutters his eyelashes on her cheek. While Sidney squirms needlessly to get off the dead cop's body, from the recent bomb explosion that landed her there. What happens next is a total misunderstanding between them. The flutter of his lashes and the firm member of his anatomy told her that dead men don't blink twice.

Once a simple life and career, following the footsteps of her father who raised her alone, Sidney was more than ready for change. Her job as a police coroner wasn't her dream job, but it was where life led her while growing up without a mother. In fact, her whole life was in dire need of change. She wanted a better job, but had no idea what. She wanted more fun friends, but only ended up with dull boring friends. She wanted to find her feminine wiles along with a sex life, and all she has gotten lately was a kiss on the forehead after a blind date, and a boring closet filled with durable work khakis and brown comfortable work loafers.

Life is about to change for Sidney. Could she learn how to be her own woman, finding more purpose in life without falling head over heels in love with a man who is so wrong for her in so many ways?

Some girls just can't catch a break. One-minute Samoa Moore's life had reached a breaking point, and she just had to get away from the life that was dragging her down. The next minute one very hot war hero cop has her slammed up against his police cruiser, and she realizes her plan is not going accordingly. Her body's reaction immediately betrays her attitude of do it alone from here on out.

Officer Matt Bourne is no stranger to women the likes of Samoa. However, he can't help but want to do the honorable thing and protect her. Her irresistible sex appeal is too much for his do right attitude, and Matt's do right attitude makes Samoa realize that falling back on a man isn't so weak after all.

With Samoa's seedy past fast at her heels, will she get the second chance she deserves, all while falling in love with the man who saved her or will things fall apart once more?

When two young hearts experience their share of heartache, the last thing they want is to fall in love. Coming back home to take care of a parent with Alzheimer's is enough to make a man insane. Insane enough to fall for a woman that he can't take his mind off of. One that is only visiting his old hometown, that's just like Mayberry, to escape a past that hurt her. This relaxed laid-back town can't slow the pace of their fast beating hearts.

With a guarded heart and a knack for making the big corporate money, Jill Waltz was no stranger to going it alone. Then one crazy drunken night she is caught in several compromising positions with her married boss, and she knew her life was about to be turned upside down. First of which, she was to be shipped to the branch office in the middle of nowhere. Little did she know that the man that stole her heart ten years ago would show up in the same place to discover that their love never extinguished. Leaving her wondering if happily-ever-after does exist or will she mess up this second chance and hope that third times a charm.

Some suburban moms just can't catch a break. There is humor in raising kids, guinea pigs, soccer moms and Nutella. Toss in two new roommates to make ends meet, crazy daily chaos and a desire to have the green grass she once had, and you get a story about a mom that makes it all work out. A light, uplifting read, that any mom could easily relate to. Humor in all the right spots and just a touch of romance to give it all a happy ending.

This book is dedicated to all the moms in my life. We have laughed through the most diverse oddities and cried about the worst. We talk about our kids with hopes and wishes, and we complain about them like nobody's business. We are the most important people in our family's lives, yet we are often the most under appreciated. This book is to you. May you remember that the grass IS NOT always greener on the other side.

Metaphorically speaking, we as women are our own worse critics. We need these things, so we can look in the mirror to say, 'ah, my grass is looking pretty green'. If it takes a box of hair color, a new outfit or to shed a few pounds to make the grass seem green, then so be it. However, Maybelline Briggs isn't looking for the Holy Grail of Eternal Youth, just a way to get back on her feet through all the chaos.

Light hearty funny mystery with quirky characters and laughable discretions. Chick Lit General Audience meets Funny Mystery.

Sometimes luck gets turned around, so what does a gal have to do in this town to get it back? Fired from her secret government job seemed like the tip of the iceberg in her streak of bad luck. However, that was nothing compared to the business of leprechauns, frozen bank accounts, credit cards, and having to drive an eighties green Gremlin car around town.

With the luck of the Irish on her side, Katie McAllister, endures a calamity of eccentricity to get her luck back while solving the mystery of the leprechaun. With the help of old friends and new, and a very adorable white puppy, she not only gets her luck back; she finds the man that almost got away.

This quirky chick lit mystery will have you smiling or shaking your head in disbelief at every chapter. In the end, you'll be quoting the Irish.

COMING SOON!!!

Chick Lit. - Often in life, you are given choices. One that is clear concise and common sense, the other one, well let's call him TROUBLE for short, otherwise known as the hot untouchable guy. Sometimes, you are given these choices to make your life easier or the happy caring gods are smiling down on you thinking, you go girl, here you are, your two choices; we know you'll make the right one. Then the blue-sky turns an ominous steel grey full of thunderclouds and lightening begins to strike, gale-force winds begin to blow as you make the wrong choice. It's not like you saw all the warning signs. Blue sky to dark. Lightning. Gail force winds. However, hey, if you always made the right choices, life could be one very boring highway.

If you like I CAN DO STUPID ALL BY MYSELF - then you'll like this chick lit goofy go round that lands her in the lap of one really HOT man while finding ways to muddle up the rest of her life.

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