I what?”
“Strip?”
“I took my boots off.” Blu rubbed his temple, remembering the way she’d smashed the heel into his head. “I toppled her before I lost my pants. But then she hit me over the head with my boot.”
While Ry laughed, and patted dry the stain on his shirt, Blu climbed out of the chair, jammed his hand into his jeans’ pocket and paced back to the window. “It wasn’t that damn funny.”
“Normally I’d agree if it had happened to someone else. But you’ve got to admit it’s not every day a nun asks the Blu Devil to strip at gunpoint, then knocks him out. With his own boot, no less.”
When Blu only grunted, Ry sobered—a little. “Okay, let me run these names through the computer and give Jackson a call. When he finds out something he’ll be in touch.”
Before Blu could agree, his sister opened the door and stuck her head inside. Surprise filled Margo’s eyes when she saw who stood in her husband’s office. “Blu? What are you doing here?” When she spied the cut on her brother’s head, she gasped. “Oh, my God! What happened?”
Blu touched his temple. “It’s not worth mentioning, so don’t ask.” He shot Ry a look that told him to keep his mouth shut. His sister was as protective as a mama bear over a newborn cub. If she thought Blu needed her, she would likely cancel her trip to Texas.
Margo frowned at him, then glanced at Ry. “Is he telling the truth or is he hiding something?”
When Ry hesitated, Margo faced Blu, her hands landing on her trim waist. Her dark eyes—a matched pair to her brother’s—narrowed with suspicion. “All right, let’s hear it. You promised me and Mama that you were done working for Patch Pollaro.”
“I am,” Blu insisted.
“Then what’s this?” She gestured to the cut on his head. “And why are you here? I can count on one hand how many times you’ve willingly set foot in this office.”
“Margo.” It was Ry’s voice that brought her up short. “You promised you would back off and give it a rest. Harping ain’t pretty, baby.”
“Harping? I don’t harp. It’s called, I’m-your-sister-and-I-have-a-right-to-be-concerned.” In a visible huff, she planted her butt in the chair opposite her husband and crossed her long legs.
Blu gestured toward Ry. “I was hoping once you married him, Chili, he’d take up all your worrying time.”
His pet nickname for his sister didn’t soften her. “I have plenty of ‘worrying time’ for all of my family. But in your case—”
“Easy, baby,” Ry warned.
Margo brushed her black hair off her shoulders, her gaze locked on Blu as she talked to her husband. “I can’t help it, Ry. He promised me he would take better care of himself after nearly getting killed last year. And as far as I can see, he doesn’t look like he’s keeping his promise. I’ll just bet Patch Pollaro is behind this.”
“I told you, I quit him. Go down to the Red Lizard and ask Patch if he’s seen me lately. He’ll tell you he hasn’t laid eyes on me in a year. I’m officially retired. I’m no longer breaking arms or fingers at a hundred dollars a pop.”
Blu watched his sister squeeze her eyes shut in disgust.
“Don’t talk about it.”
“You brought it up.”
“Then let’s drop it.”
Blu was about to agree when his stomach growled.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t eaten yet today? A shrimper who goes hungry.” Margo shook her head. “Honestly, Blu, it’s not like food is hard to come by. You just throw the nets out and—”
Blu threw up his hands and looked to Ry for help. “Now she’s attacking the way I eat. And this is the woman you chose to wake up next to for the rest of your life?”
“And they say men don’t whine.” Margo stood and gave Ry her full attention. “I guess I’m off to feed him. Do you want— What’s that on your shirt, honey?”
“Coffee.”
“Coffee? Ry, coffee stains. I just bought you that shirt. Last night it was butter. This morning it’s coffee. Do you think I should make an eye appointment for you?”
Ry scowled at his wife. “Because your old man’s eyesight is failing?”
The mischief in Margo duFray ran deep. And, like her brother, if she chose to remain stone sober a crow-bar couldn’t make her crack a smile. “It’s not my fault you’re cresting the hill, honey. If you need glasses—”
“I can still pick a lock, can’t I?”
“Yes. Last night you actually—”
“This is sweet,” Blu interjected, “but could we—”
Margo rounded on her brother. “How would you know anything about sweet? Who have you been practicing on lately?”
“No one. I don’t date, remember?”
“No, but you should. There’s this new waitress at the Toucan who—”
“Is very nice,” Blu finished. “Forget it.”
“What’s wrong with nice?”
“Nothing.”
“So you never plan on bringing anyone to Sunday dinner? Never?”
“Never isn’t a word I feel comfortable using, but it probably fits in this instance.”
Blu knew Margo’s concern for him was genuine. She had sacrificed a great deal for him last year. She’d taken a bullet in her arm, a bullet that had been meant for him. She’d survived the ordeal, and now that she’d been reunited with the only man she’d ever loved, her current mission was to find her outlaw brother a nice wife.
Blu’s stomach growled again.
“I heard that. Come on. While I’m feeding you, I’ll tell you about Sharon.”
“Sharon?”
“The nice girl at the Toucan.”
As Margo passed through the door, Blu hung back. “Thanks for your time, Ry. Tell Jackson I’ll be anxious to hear anything he finds out. Oh, and make sure you take care of my sister in Texas. She’s hard to live with most days, but I wouldn’t want to have to try living without her.”
The devil’s lair was a pigsty. Kristen crept inside the desecrated apartment, her eyes wide with disbelief. How could anyone live in such a depressing place, she thought, as she scaled the stairs and entered the apartment at the top of the landing.
The air smelled old and damp, and she wrinkled her nose, unconsciously wiped her hands on her jeans-clad thighs.
