Excerpt/Opening
Joe Worth appreciated seriously fine woman flesh when he saw it—and what walked a few steps ahead of him was up there with the best of it. Made him wish he could strap on a tool belt and whistle. The high heels and skirt—short enough to be interesting without shouting about it—were an added bonus. As was the hair. Damn near to the middle of her back. And that darkish blond color that looked real instead of salon metallic. Then there were the legs . . . showgirl quality, endless and shapely.
A devout leg man, Joe experienced something close to awe.
Hell of a way to start a morning.
“Coffee, tea , me—or her,” a booming voice said from his right.
“Definitely her.” Joe jutted his chin in the direction of legs unlimited, then looked down at Riggs. “But I’ll settle for the coffee—preferably with less sludge than yesterday.”
“Picky. Picky.”
Donny Riggs, a small guy to start with, who barely managed to clear the kiosk countertop from his wheelchair, ran the coffee shack a block from Joe’s office. On a good day his coffee hit the psyche with the silk and heat of good-morning sex; on bad days, a mug of crude oil with curdled cream would be an improvement.
Joe took the coffee Riggs handed him and studied the donuts. “Today’s? Or last year’s?”
“Suddenly you’re a gourmet?” He accented the final T and shoved a donut into a paper sleeve. That was the thing with Donny Riggs, you ask about the food, you’ve bought the food. “Here.” He handed Joe the donut. “You don’t like it. Bring it back. Comes with a one month guarantee.”
Joe took the donut, capped his coffee cup, and handed him the usual fiver. “Tell me again why I buy this crap from you.”
“One of two reasons. My scintillatin’ personality or my wheelchair gig.”
“The chair’s too obvious. It’s the scintillating thing. Definitely.” He headed down the street, taking the same hallowed path as the long legs that had enamored him seconds before.
“Hey, Joe.”
Restraining a sigh, he turned back. He knew what was coming; Riggs hadn’t missed a morning yet. “Yeah?”
“Your horoscope says you’re in for trouble today. Says something left behind is coming back in your life that will seriously affect your future and ya can’t avoid it.”
“Good to know.” He made to turn.
“It also says something that looks like a simple puzzle on the surface is nothin’ but a nest of snakes. You better be careful, it says”—Riggs jabbed the morning paper he had spread out on the counter—”or you’ll be—and I quote—ensnarled.”
“Great. Thanks.” He lifted his coffee cup in salute and turned the corner. Joe wasn’t worried about snakes, and the only thing coming back into his life was last month’s bills. Which, thanks to the check he received yesterday, he was able to pay and then some. Temporarily at least, he was ankle deep in clover.
Snakes and ensnarling aside, he was planning a damn fine day; the morning setting up next week’s job, which would start with him joining Zern, his partner, on a yacht in Spain—not hard to take—and the afternoon at the gym. Okay, so he wasn’t so keen on the gym thing but keeping in shape was part of the job. No one hired bodyguards from the before pictures.
Joe rounded the corner and walked the half block to his office. The building was ten floors, and he was on the fourth; he took the stairs.
The door to his floor opened on the end of the hall farthest from his office, and he’d cracked it barely an inch or two before he spotted Legs—standing outside his office door.
The day was getting better and better. He stopped to admire the view.
Legs reached for the knob on his door then, as if she’d touched a hot element, abruptly stepped back and ran a hand through her long hair, brushing one side of it behind her ear. She looked nervous. No. Beyond nervous. Scared.
And the face that went with that Grade-A body didn’t disappoint. The woman was eye-blasting beautiful.
Beautiful + scared = client.
Interesting . . . Joe watched her make another attempt at the door, back away again, then finally—and he could damn near hear her inhale half of Seattle’s supply of air—she opened the door and walked in.
Joe stepped into the hall, uncapped his coffee, and did a taste test as he ambled toward his office.
If Legs was the trouble Riggs predicted, bring it on.
© EC Sheedy. All rights reserved
