Body Movers Books 1-3

“I knew he was a smart little dude, but…damn. Why would he do something like that?”

“To delete his traffic violations.”

“Wow, can he do that? I’ve got a couple of parking tickets I wouldn’t mind having taken care of.”

“Hannah.”

“Sorry. So how much trouble is he in?”

“I’m not sure yet, but he could go to jail.”

“Yikes, Wesley’s too pretty to survive in jail.”

“I’m so regretting making this phone call.”

“Sorry. Do you want my attorney’s number? He did a great job of getting my assault charge against Russell dismissed.”

Hannah had a thing for married guys—and for public breakups, which her last married guy had responded to by filing an assault charge. “Uh, thanks, but Wesley already has an attorney.” Plus, she suspected that Hannah’s ex dropping the charges had more to do with his reluctance to face the six-foot-tall, tongue-pierced, stripe-haired, goth-garbed Hannah in an open courtroom than with her attorney’s expertise. “His arraignment is Monday.”

“I won’t be back until Tuesday or I’d go with you. Is there anything I can do from here to help?”

A rush of fondness swelled Carlotta’s chest and she laughed. “Not unless you have a spare thousand you could wire me.” Her friend would know she was kidding, of course. Hannah earned barely enough with her sporadic catering work to pay for her culinary classes.

“Uh-oh. Does this have to do with his case or something else?”

“Something else.”

Hannah sighed. “His loan sharks again?”

“Yeah.”

“Gee, Carlotta, you know I’d give it to you if I had it, but even if I did, that’s only a temporary solution. How much does he owe now?”

She closed her eyes and swallowed bile. “Close to twenty thousand.”

“Shit fuck fire.”

“I know.”

Hannah groaned. “Carlotta, I know you don’t want to hear this, but don’t you think it’s time for little brother to grow up? I mean, Christ, when you were his age you were raising a kid.”

Carlotta sank her teeth into her lower lip. She’d been the only eighteen-year-old at the middle-school PTA meetings, and she had sheltered Wesley so he could enjoy his childhood for as long as possible. But Hannah had a point. “You’re right,” she said with a sigh. “But I think he’s trying to take responsibility for what he did. He wouldn’t let me go to the attorney’s office with him.”

“Good, give him some rope, Carlotta.”

“But what if he hangs himself with it?”

“Just make sure he doesn’t have the other end tied around your neck. That boy needs some tough love, or you’ll be bailing him out of jail and out of debt for the rest of your life.”

“You’re right. I’ll try.”

“Meanwhile, the little shit needs to get a job—how’s that for a revolutionary idea? I might be able to get him some catering work, but he’d need a car.”

“And a driver’s license, so that’s out. But thanks. And thanks for the pep talk. Sorry I woke you up.”

“Ah, hell, we were awake…sort of.”

“We?”

“My pastry instructor. I told you how cute he is.”

Carlotta frowned. “And how married he is.”

“That, too. Hang in there and good luck on Monday. I’ll call you when I get back.”

The call was disconnected, leaving Carlotta to shake her head. One of these days Hannah was going to meet up with a vindictive wife in a dark alley.

She drank from her coffee cup, but the liquid had gone cold. She winced, her mind still whirling with questions and what-ifs and worst-case scenarios. Then she pushed to her feet, thinking she might as well go to work. As much as the loan shark’s voice haunted her, she could only deal with one crisis at a time.

First, they had to get through Wesley’s arraignment on Monday. She didn’t trust Liz Fischer, but she hoped that this time her father’s former mistress had something helpful up her skirt.

6

Carlotta sat in the back row of the courthouse gallery, shooting anxious glances between the wall clock and the door. She and Wesley had arrived together, but he’d said he needed to visit the men’s room and that was thirty minutes ago. Arraignments would begin in three minutes, and Wesley’s case, Liz Fischer had warned, could fall anywhere in the lineup, so he had to be prompt if he wanted the deal that she’d managed to work out with the D.A.

The rows of chairs in the gallery were crowded with people of all shapes and sizes, some of them nervous and fidgety, others merely bored. Liz Fischer stood next to the front row and cast furtive glances at her watch. The district attorney, Kelvin Lucas, sat sprawled in a chair across the aisle wearing a smug smile as the seconds ticked away. Carlotta remembered the way the man had grilled her after her parents had disappeared.

“They must have said where they were going, or called to say they were okay. If you know something and you don’t tell me, young lady, I’ll have to charge you with accessory, and then who’ll take care of your brother?”

But she’d stood her ground—she hadn’t known where they were. If she had, she would’ve turned them in just to stop her brother’s tears.

The man’s hair was grayer, his neck thicker, but the arrogant set of his mouth was unmistakable. “Tracking down Randolph Wren is my top priority,” he’d said to a TV reporter ten years ago, a vein jumping in his forehead. “Now it’s personal.”

When his heavy-lidded gaze now landed on Carlotta, she swallowed and looked away. The man gave her the creeps, although she supposed that was part of his job description. She wondered if he had any idea who she was and how much he’d added to her nightmares at a time when she’d thought she might never sleep again.

“Did you lose your client?” Carlotta heard him ask Liz Fischer, his voice cutting through the noise.

“He’ll be here,” Liz responded, her tone cool.

Lucas gave a derisive laugh. “It’s déjà vu, Counselor. Just like ten years ago.”

Carlotta set her jaw. Ignoring the man, Liz strode toward her and leaned down. “Where the hell is Wesley?”

“He’s in the restroom,” Carlotta said hotly. “He’ll be here in a minute.”

“He’d better,” the woman said. “I don’t even want to think about what I had to do to get him this deal.”

Carlotta gave her a pointed look. “I’m sure it’s nothing you haven’t done before.”