Inside my SUV, I begged my pulse to calm down. I inhaled through my nose deeply, taking in the scent of vanilla from my air freshener, then I exhaled slowly. I repeated this six times until my nerves calmed considerably.
That couldn’t have been Bam. But I wanted to be sure. So I texted him, asking him to meet me at the rendezvous spot immediately. He texted back agreeing. Had I’d pissed off one of those husbands or wives that I’d put on blast early in my career? One guy—James Harrigan—went to prison for taking a shot at me. Thankfully, my coworker chased and caught Harrigan after Harrigan’s bullets missed. Perhaps one of my former targets was stalking me.
After a long sigh, I started my vehicle. I needed to go over my caseload with Capricorn to see which former client’s wife or husband I’d pissed off. But another possibility existed. Is the man behind the wheel of the Corvette Deebo? He was certainly the most likely recent suspect. Who else would blast Drake’s music like that? None of my other clients appeared to even know who the musical artist Drake was. I ran a hand over my lips and put my car in gear. I headed for the rendezvous spot.
When I got there, Bam was sitting inside his Suburban swigging on a a forty ounce. His meaty left arm was hanging outside his window. So, he wasn’t sending me a message earlier. But, then again, he could’ve sent someone else to do the deed.
I calmly walked up to his driver’s door.
“Hey, Jinx?”
“You just sent one of your goons to scare me?”
A puzzled look crossed Bam’s features. He placed the forty ounce between his legs. “Why would I do something like that when you’re not late yet?”
I rubbed my forearms and suddenly felt uncertain. “To scare me?”
“Come on, Jinx. I said I’d give you time. I can see something’s wrong. You got three more days. Unless you wanna work off some of the interest by becoming my head nurse a few times.”
How dare he demand a blow job. “Fuck you!” I walked back to my RAV4.
“Anytime, skinny mini. Anytime,” he said.
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