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Did I sit down at the wrong table?
“Sir, what do you plan on doing with that?”
I jump. A man is standing above me. I know this man. How do I know him?
“Uh,” I swallow. "Truly? I have no idea.”
He frowns. “You have no idea how you came to be in possession of a ski mask and knife?”
I chuckle. “Well, if you knew my girlfriend—”
“I don't, that's why I’m asking you. Are you planning to rob the bank down the street?” He pulls his suit coat to the side, revealing a gun and a badge.
I’m going to kill Amelia.
I put both hands to the sky. “I’m sure I can explain everything.”
“I hope you can. Get up. Let’s talk.”
Okay.
I stand and he pushes my shoulder, nudging me to the back of the restaurant. When we are clear of tables I turn ready to explain the situation.
“I’m an FBI agent.”
“Really? Where’s your badge?”
And that's how I know him. Of all the luck.
“We’ve met before. In Amelia Quinn’s apartment. The dead guy in the tub.”
He purses his lips and I take off the stupid fake beard.
“I never did find out who killed him. Was it you? Is that why you’re wearing a disguise tonight?”
“No.” I scrub a hand through my hair. This is ridiculous. “Look,” I reach for my phone in my pocket, but before I can grab it the guy has me pushed up against a wall.
“Don’t move.”
I freeze, only because I’m still a little sore from my gunshot wound. “I’m not moving.”
“You have the right to remain silent.” Metal rings dig into my wrists.
“This is a huge misunderstanding th—”
“That we can sort out at the station. Come on.” He pushes me forward and at this point, I realize it’s probably better to go out the back with him than have to tramp through the dining area being arrested as Mr. Fancybottom.
He holds open the door for me and shoves me outside. I stumble over a loose piece of pavement and whirl around.
“Hey! You coul—”
Amelia is leaning against the brick wall next to the door, looking dead sexy in a skintight red dress.
“I’ll take it from here, Frank.” Amelia grins.
Frank nods once then shuts the door.
I raise a brow. “His name is Frank?”