Chapter Fifty-five

I got up earlier than normal to take care of the sliding glass door with hotel management.

Groggy, weak, and feeling less than human, I walked the short, stocky and highly disapproving woman through my fictional drunken escapade last night, which culminated in me supposedly crashing through the glass door. She clucked her tongue numerous times, and in the end, after taking a few photographs of the damages, she seemed to buy my story. An hour or so later, a work crew stopped by and replaced the glass.

As they worked, I wondered if it was finally time for me to find my own place. Of course, I already had my own place. It was the house Danny and I had purchased together. The house he was currently using to fuck his secretary in.

I had been at the Embassy Suites for two months now. Surely, it was time for a change. And with that thought in mind, as I sat in the center of my bed while the work crew positioned the big piece of glass in the balcony doorway, I realized what I hadn't seen in the seedy strip club in Colton.

Heart pounding, I fired up my laptop. I jacked into the hotel wireless service and did a quick search for the club. As I expected, there was no mention of it. No mention of it, in fact, anywhere.

As the work crew finished, one of them suggested that next time I fall away from the glass door when I was shit-faced drunk. I told him I would keep his suggestion in mind (asshole), and when they were gone, so was I.

Covered in sunscreen and heavy clothing, sporting my cool sunhat and shades, I grabbed my keys and hit the road.

* * *

Along the way to the Riverside County Courthouse, my cell phone rang. It was Kingsley. I picked up immediately.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey."

"I'm sorry about last night," he said.

"Last night was a little terrifying. At least I no longer doubt that you really are a...you know what."

Kingsley hated for us to talk about our super secret identities on the phone. He actually laughed. "This coming from a...you know what."

"We all have our hang ups."

He was silent as I drove along the congested freeway. Mercifully, the sun was behind me.

Finally, Kingsley said, "Am I to understand you took care of my client the other night?"

"You are to understand anything you want."

I could almost see him nod. "I should be very pissed off at you for that."

"You should thank me. I lessened your workload."

"That was very reckless, Sam."

"These are reckless times."

He was silent some more. I suspected he was in his massive office, surrounded by piles of files.

"So what do we do, Sam?"

"About what?"

"About us."

"I don't know," I said.

"I like you. A lot."

"I'm a very likable person," I said.

He chuckled. "Sometimes. But now you're being distant and cold."

"I feel distant and cold, so no surprise there."

"It's because of what I do," he said.

"I hate what you do."

"Sometimes I help people, Sam. Not everyone belongs in prison."

"And not everyone should be freed on a technicality."

"We can argue this forever," he said.

"And forever is a very long time for...us."

He chuckled lightly again. "Can I see you tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow night I have plans."

He made a noise on the phone. I know he wanted to ask who my plans were with but he held back. "I see. Perhaps next week?"

"Perhaps," I said.

"I'll call you later."

I said okay and we hung up.

* * *

My cell rang again. I checked the number and ID on the faceplate. The number came up "Restricted". It was either a creditor or one of my pals with law enforcement. My finances had gotten a little out of hand these past few months. My hotel room hadn't been cheap and Danny wasn't helping me. I took my chances and clicked on.

"I don't have any money," I said.

"Hello? Sam, it's Mel."

Oops. It was my DNA biologist friend from the FBI Crime Lab. Definitely not a creditor, although he did accept deposits in blood. My heart immediately slammed hard against the inside of my ribs. His call could only mean one thing.

"What's shaking, Mel?"

"I have the results to your blood work up, Sam."

I took a deep breath, held it, and then said, "Okay. Lay them on me."

Chapter Fifty-six

Danny's firm took up the entire second floor of the office building. The building itself wasn't much to write home about. Squarish and ugly and immediately forgotten. A couple of years ago, I had jokingly referred to the building as "Ambulance Chaser Headquarters", and Danny had refused to speak to me for two days.

The big baby.

With the sun still a few hours from setting and myself not at my strongest, I climbed the exterior stairs and pushed through the smoky glass doors. Four leather chairs sat empty to one side of the door. A thick, square mohair carpet spanned the length of the office. A bubbling fountain gurgled in the corner to my left, projecting an aura of zen-like calm in these troubled, accident-prone times. On the walls were the paintings I had picked out with Danny at a swap meet years ago. Big, fake, cheap stuff.

And directly in front of me, sitting behind a kidney-shaped desk, with her shiny, tan legs crossed and absently texting on her cell phone, was my ex-husband's new secretary. The woman he had cheated on me with. The woman he was currently fucking. The woman he entertained at our house, in our bedroom, in our bed. The woman he had introduced to our children.

She had known that he was married. No doubt he had made me out to be a monster. No doubt he had painted a picture of an unfit mother. Unfit or not, she had chosen to cheat with a married man. My married man.

She set her phone aside, uncrossed her thin legs, and gave me a big smile. She was about to ask if she could help me, but then stopped short. Her mouth sort of hung open and her eyes narrowed. She was an ugly woman, I thought. I had no clue what Danny saw in her. Face too thin, skin too tan, boobs too fake. On second thought, I saw exactly what Danny saw in her. She was the opposite of me.

She jumped up and moved quickly around her desk, blocking my path. She crossed her arms under her fake breasts. Her nails were red and long. She looked like a whore.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she said.

I smiled and, without breaking stride, punched her straight in the face. She flew backward, bounced off the desk, spun around and landed on her face. On her nose, in fact. She moaned. I wasn't at full strength and I certainly didn't hit her as hard as I could, but she would remember me.

Danny appeared from his office door, open-mouthed. He looked at me and then at his secretary on the mohair rug. "Sam, what the fuck is going on?"

And as he stepped out of the office, I punched him hard in his stomach. He oofed nicely and doubled over. I grabbed him by the collar and threw him back into his office and shut the door behind me.

Chapter Fifty-seven

I pushed him down into one of his leather client chairs and sat on the edge of his executive desk, which was big enough to land an F-17 on.

Danny still hadn't gotten his breath back entirely. His face was purplish and contorted, and he was staring at me with frightened, angry eyes.

I kicked my legs pleasantly and whistled absently, waiting for his lungs to kick start again. Finally his short rasping breaths turned into longer rasping breaths. And when they did, words vomited from his mouth. "What the fuck are...who the hell do you...you have royally fucked yourself...how dare you attack...."

"Are you quite done, asshole?"

He sat up straighter, took in a long, agonized breath. "I demand to know what's going on."

"Well, since you asked so nicely."

I grinned and continued swinging my legs. I shouldn't have been enjoying this so much, but I was.

He looked at me with very confused, very dark eyes. Danny was not a big guy. Just a few inches shy of six foot, he was also too skinny for me, but I never told him that. I had always liked my men a little beefier, which is why Kingsley had been so damn intoxicating.

He said, "Do you have any idea the shit you just landed yourself in, Sam?"

"About as much shit as you landed in, dickhead."

His eyes narrowed. "What the hell does that mean?"

There was a low moan from outside the closed door, followed by some sobbing. His secretary lying there on the carpet, crying, probably wasn't good for business.

"You're the owner of The Kittycat," I said. "Perhaps the world's sleaziest strip club. In fact, you're the sole owner of it."

The color drained from his already pale face. He tried to sit up. I told him to stay where he was and he did so.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Sam."

"Of course you don't. Deny everything, right? It's the losers' motto."

"Sam, you're talking nonsense."

"Am I? All I have to do is make one call to any number of my friends in law enforcement, and they will come down hard on The Kittycat."

"Just wait a second, Sam. Whether or not I own the business is beside the point. It's hardly a crime to run a strip club."

I crossed my arms under my chest. My own natural bosom didn't push up unnaturally through the top of my own blouse and I was proud of that.

"It's a crime, Danny, when said business - in particular, a strip club - operates without a license."

"Shit."

I grinned and sat back. I swung my legs some more. Seeing Danny squirm had just become my favorite new hobby.

"I'm in the process of getting a license - "

"In the process of and having one are two different things, Danny. And you know that. But you couldn't wait, could you? You just had to open the doors to that shithole of sleaze."

He said nothing. I could see his pressed shirt pulsating slightly over his hammering heart. His mind was spinning in ten different directions. But there was no getting out of this one. Not for him.

"What the fuck happened to you, Danny?" I asked. "How does a respectable family man end up owning that dungeon of filth?"

"I don't have to answer you."

"Hey, I'm not the cops, Danny boy. There are no Miranda rights and I'm not wired. This is just between you and me."

"Well, you don't know what the fuck you're talking about. Now, can I check on Sugar?"

I laughed into my hand. "Sugar?"

"Not now, Sam - "

"Her name is Sugar? Honest to God? Is she also one of your filthy strippers, Danny? Sucking up to the boss in more ways than one?"

"Okay, you caught me. So sue me for looking outside of our shitty marriage for something more. So sue me for jumping on a chance to own something that's going to make me a lot of money."

"You're pathetic."

"And you're a living nightmare. What the fuck do you want, Sam?"

I studied him long and hard. Sugar had quit sobbing from the other side of the door. Sugar wasn't happy.

I said, "I want the house and I want the kids."

He laughed. "No way. There is absolutely no fucking way I'm letting you around our kids unsupervised."

"I don't think you understand the quagmire of shit you find yourself in, Danny. If I say the word, the hammer comes down on your disgusting enterprise. You're looking at an ungodly amount of fines, not to mention automatic disbarment. Oh, yeah, and the world will see you as the slimeball you've turned out to be. And I can't wait to see what your mother thinks about all of this, too." I paused, shaking my head. "No one stops to consider their mothers. It's a pity."

"You forget, Sam. If you say anything, I will expose you for the monster you really are."

I slipped off the desk and approached him slowly. I squatted down between his legs, resting my elbows on his knees. He was in a very, very vulnerable position.

"Expose me for what, Danny? Having a rare skin condition?"

"I've got a vial of your blood, Sam. It's in a safe deposit box. If anything happens to me, my attorney has been notified to have that blood immediately tested. Your secret will be out. You will be exposed to the light for the freak that you are."

"Perhaps you should have already tested the blood, Danny."

"What does that mean?"

I stood again and removed a folded piece of paper from my back pocket. Earlier, I had stopped at a Kinko's and printed out Mel's emailed test results.

"What's this?"

"My blood test results."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I had my blood tested, Danny. A variety of tests, too. The technician was asked to look for any irregularities. Look at the results yourself."

He quickly read through the report. Attorneys, if anything, were great scanners.

"As you can see," I said. "It says no irregularities found. My blood is normal, Danny. Normal. In every way. So have it tested. Do what you want with it. But I'm taking back my house, and I'm taking back my kids, and you damn well better believe that no sleazeball porn king who brings whores home to my kids will ever - ever - be welcomed into my house again. You have until eight p.m. tonight to move your ass out, and anything you leave behind will be trashed. Do you understand?"

He looked at the paper some more, then looked directly across at me, since I was once again squatting down at eye level. "So you won't report me?" he said.

"You disgust me."

And I leveled a punch directly into his groin. As he rolled out of the chair, gasping, I walked out of his office and didn't even look down at his bleeding whore.

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