Knocking on Death's Door Page 17
Cookie frowned and sank into the office chair. “Okay, let’s hear it.”
“Keith pled guilty and is already headed off to serve time,” he said.
“I bet the boss likes that,” she said, her hand tightening around the phone. What had he meant when he’d said hold that thought?
“Yeah. Saves a lot of time, money, and paperwork. His sentencing will probably be light since most of his victims will get their money back. Great job on securing the cash.”
“Thanks.”
“Alex convinced her granddaughter to turn state’s evidence against her husband. That bastard is going away for a long time. In exchange, Alex and her granddaughter are headed back into witness protection. It was part of the deal.”
Cookie tapped her fingers against the desk. “Sounds like you’ve been very busy over the last two days.”
“You have no idea,” he said with a chuckle.
“Okay, stop stalling. Why am I supposed to be holding off on fleeing town?” she demanded.
“Because, Charlie, I’m the best damned FBI agent this side of the Mississippi, and when you see me next, you’re going to be giving me one hell of a kiss.”
“Doubtful on the kiss, but if you have good news for me, I’ll concede on the best agent bit.”
“You’re going to love me,” he said.
“Okay, now you’re just starting to annoy me. Out with it, O’Neil.”
“Fine, ruin my fun.” There was a rustling over the line as if he was shuffling paperwork. “Two things: Simon Gallo appears to have short term memory loss. He doesn’t remember anything about the day he hit his head. His doctors aren’t sure those memories will ever surface. So as of right now, he has no idea who you are, and there is no reason to flee Secret Seal Isle.”
“Hunter.” She sighed. “You know as well as I do that his memory could come back at any moment. Then what?”
“Tell me you love me,” he said.
“What?” Now she was just annoyed. “Why?”
“Because I’m not about to just make your day, I’m about to make your year.”
“O’Neil, just spit it out.”
He laughed. “Okay, okay. Gallo is desperate to not end up back in the mob’s snare. So, I made him a deal. Deliver me someone in DeMasi’s circle, and I’ll make sure he doesn’t end up back in prison.”
Cookie sucked in a sharp breath. “Even though he killed Henri?”
“It was an accident, right?” Hunter asked.
“He says it was.”
“Do you believe him?”
“Yeah,” Cookie said. If he’d been putting on an act, he was one heck of an actor.
“Me, too. Anyway, he delivered me one of DeMasi’s accountants. Now Gallo is headed to witness protection as a chocolatier named Henri.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“Yep, Charlie, I am. Henri has every reason to keep his identity, and yours, secret now. He doesn’t want DeMasi anywhere near him. So even if he does remember, there’s zero chance of him ratting you out.”
Cookie’s heart nearly exploded with happiness. “Hunter O’Neil, you were right. The next time I see you, you’re getting one giant kiss. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I owe you big.”
“I know. Just remember that the next time I need a favor,” he said with a small laugh. Then he sobered. “Seriously, Charlie, I just want you to be safe.”
“I know,” she said softly. “I am, thanks to you.”
“Now go tell that mother of yours she’s still on the hook for next year’s all-male holiday revue. I have work to do.”
Cookie grinned into the phone. “Does that mean we can count on you to be one of the dancers?”
“Definitely not. Bye, Charlie.”
The connection ended, and Cookie stood in the office, frozen as she let the news sink in. She heard the rumble of Dylan’s truck outside. The sound shook her out of her shocked trance, and she took off at record speed to find her mother.
“Mom!” Cookie called as she ran into the kitchen. “Stop packing. We’re staying.”
Rain and Winter were both elbow deep in cookie dough. Rain’s head popped up. “What? Why? What happened?”
“Long story short, our cover isn’t blown. Start unpacking and reopen the website for booking guests. We have a business to run.”
“But how—?” her mom said, but Cookie had already retreated and was headed out the front door toward Dylan.
He jumped out of his truck and glanced up at her. “What’s—?”
She slammed into him, wrapping her arms around his body as she said, “Call off everything. We’re staying.”
He stared down at her in confusion. “Why? What about Gallo?”
She shook her head. “I’ll tell you later. For now, just know that we’re home and we’re not going anywhere.”
Joy sparked in his dark eyes as he smiled down at her. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” She grabbed his T-shirt with one hand and pulled him closer so that their lips were just inches apart.
His expression turned serious as he gazed down at her lips.
She gave him a slow smile and said, “Now kiss me.”
“Anything you say, Ms. James.” Then his lips were on hers. Her heart swelled with pure joy, and even though she was elated that they didn’t have to leave, she knew that if they had, as long as Dylan was with her, he’d always be her home.
Previous Secret Seal Isle Mysteries
New Corpse in Town
Life in the Dead Lane
A Walk on the Dead Side
Any Way You Bury It
Death is in the Air
Signed, Sealed, Fatal I’m Yours
Sweet Corpse of Mine
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Coming soon! Highway to Homicide
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About the Author
Lucy Quinn is the brainchild of New York Times bestselling author Deanna Chase and USA Today bestselling author Violet Vaughn. Having met over a decade ago in a lampwork bead forum, the pair were first what they like to call “show wives” as they traveled the country together, selling their handmade glass beads. So when they both started writing fiction, it seemed only natural for the two friends to pair up with their hilarious, laugh-out-loud, cozy mysteries. At least they think so. Now they travel the country, meeting up in various cities to plan each new Lucy Quinn book while giggling madly at themselves and the ridiculous situations they force on their characters. They very much hope you enjoy them as much as they do.
Deanna Chase, is a native Californian, transplanted to the slower paced lifestyle of southeastern Louisiana. When she isn’t writing, she is often goofing off with her husband in New Orleans, playing with her two shih tzu dogs, or making glass beads.
Violet Vaughn lives on the Coast of Maine where she spends most mornings in the woods with her dogs and most afternoons and evenings telling stories.
www.lucyquinnauthor.com
lucy@lucyquinnauthor.com