Double Dare

“Sounds like a plan. Let’s get this party rockin’.”

Natasha settled behind her desk with a cup of peppermint tea while Audra knocked back a Red Bull. For the next half hour they sketched out a plan of action, then went over the boutique responsibilities for the next week or so.

“I think that’s everything,” Natasha said as she tidied her notes into a stack. “And just in time to open the doors.”

She came around her desk and gave Audra an excited hug.

“We’re making it, Audra. Big-time. Drew is so proud of you.” She pulled back, obviously realizing all this sentimental stuff made Audra uncomfortable. “So we’re set. Are you sure you can handle everything alone?”

Audra considered her performance over the last week since graduating the textile and design academy.

She’d lost an order, told a customer the fishnets made her cellulite look like a bag full of marbles and almost got the delivery guy fired for flirting on company time.

Hardly management material.

But if she wanted to be trusted with something as major as bringing her vision to the spring line, she’d have to prove she could handle running the boutique.

Rarely felt nerves made their way through her stomach with a nasty flutter.

“I can handle it,” she vowed. She’d make sure of it. “As long as I don’t have to remember to bring a condom,” she muttered under her breath.

“Um, no, I doubt you’ll need to worry about that. At least, not for the boutique—unless you’re planning another party,” Natasha said with a wink and laugh.

Maybe she’d overreacted and Natasha wasn’t worried about leaving her in charge. Audra frowned.

Dammit, she should worry. Two years ago, heck, two months ago, she’d have worried. Now, though, Audra was, what? Such a goody-goody she could be trusted to be well-behaved? She sank into her chair with a morose sigh. All these yo-yoing emotions were exhausting. Just because she wasn’t a loser didn’t mean she was a goody-goody. There was an in-between there. Somewhere.

“But, you know it’s better to be safe than sorry. I’d strongly suggest keeping a few condoms on hand, since you never know what will come up.” Laughing at her own joke, Natasha headed out to the showroom to open the boutique for the day.

Audra made a face at her sister-in-law’s retreating back and mocked, “Ha ha.”

But inside, she groaned. How freaking pitiful was she? Even Natasha knew to be prepared.

After Natasha left, Audra contemplated the ugly tie pinned to the wall. The green was an insult to the eyes, and the crappy construction mocked her devotion to design details.

She should throw it away. It was stupid to hold on to some geek’s tie. A geek who’d run out on her, making her a loser in her friends’ eyes. Sure, they’d tossed her a second dare. But look how that had turned out.

But no, here she was, a sappy sentimental wuss who should have her Wicked Chick membership revoked. Courting silly thoughts about what a guy was like out of bed and wondering if he’d really call her for a date. Holding on to some butt-ugly memento as a reminder of the night she’d met the hottest guy to ever keep her awake without even being there.

Talk about an identity crisis.

A JUMBO COFFEE at his elbow, heavily laced with cream to disguise the bitter taste, Jesse’s fingers cruised with loving familiarity over the computer keyboard. He ignored the usual Tuesday morning noise in the cop shop as he patiently hacked through Dave Larson’s personal life.

Two steps forward, five steps back.

A dance Jesse loved. Larson was dirtier than a meth fiend on a street corner. The last two years he’d been up to his ass in debt, conning Peter to rob Paul. Now, suddenly, he was rolling in the green. Enough cash flying through his secondary account to rent a BMW, pay for a Nordstrom shopping spree and buy one hell of a lot of porn on the Internet. Davey Larson was definitely being paid well.

Jesse hit Print to add the financials to his file and continued digging. An hour later, the phone on the corner of his desk jangled. He ignored it until someone yelled his name.

“Hey, Martinez. Phone. Dude wants to talk to you.”

Jesse waved his thanks and grabbed the phone, still working the keyboard with one hand.

“Martinez here.”

Five minutes later, he stared at his scribbled notes. It wasn’t the chicken-scratch mess that had the coffee churning in his stomach. His informant had confirmed the rumors. Dave Larson wasn’t just dabbling in organized crime. He was playing with the big boys. Chinatown-based mafia Du Bing Li big. It seemed Dave had finally scored the underworld connections he’d sought through the most unlikely source. His porn addiction.