Blazing Bedtime Stories, Volume IX. Rhonda Nelson
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Red Ball?” Robin heard Jason say. “I’m going to the Red Ball. I’m told it’s quite exclusive.”
Robin snorted. Not exclusive enough if that jackass got an invitation.
“It is,” John told him. “You’ve got your red tuxedo already, don’t you? Those damned things are rare. I had to have mine special made. Double breasted with big brass buttons.”
Robin guffawed, thankful that Jason couldn’t hear him. “Don’t forget the gold cord.”
John dutifully added the cord and then told Jason that if he really wanted to make the right impression, he should consider a matching hat, as well. “Women love hats. It’s the mark of a gentleman.”
“You are evil, my friend,” Robin said, chuckling. “Brilliant, but evil.”
“Likewise. See you in a bit.”
Robin disconnected and, on a whim, sent a quick text to Ranger’s resident hacker, Charlene “Charlie” Weatherford. He liked everyone he worked with, but he was especially fond of Charlie and her husband, Jay. They were new parents and sickeningly in love.
Rather than text back, she called him. “I wasn’t busy at all. Just bored. What do you need?”
“Bored? How can you be bored with a toddler underfoot?”
“Both the toddler and my husband have gone to bed, there’s nothing worth watching on television and Juan-Carlos’s emails have taken a turn toward the mundane.”
Juan-Carlos was the superefficient office manager who had perfected the art of looking simultaneously martyred and put-upon. While everyone else seemed to understand that Charlie didn’t understand the word private, the little Latino man didn’t, and would flip a bitch if he knew Charlie had been hacking into his email account.
“Please tell me you need me to do something,” she implored, sounding a bit like an addict jonesing for a fix.
Robin grinned. “I do, actually.” He outlined what he needed. “Is that going to present a problem?”
She feigned insult. “Please,” she said. “It’s child’s play. Are you sure that’s all you need?”
“For the moment, though I’ll probably need additional assistance tomorrow. Will you be around?”
“I will,” she said.
“Excellent.”
He disconnected, then started the car and, with one last lingering look at Marion’s pink fortress, he backed out of the driveway.
It was time to deal with Jason.
He’d take care of Marion in the morning. Whatever she intended with that house, she’d made a tactical error.
He wasn’t afraid of pink.
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