Page 27 of Burn Bag (Owens Protective Services #31)

“Annulment,” Eli corrected. “And why not? It’s not like you actually know her.”

No, I didn’t know her, but I couldn’t have a failed marriage under my belt after only three days. That had to be the worst record of all time. Besides, I actually liked her. I mean, from what little I knew of her .

“I’m not getting an annulment. We just need an adjustment period.”

Red snorted. “That and a manual for living with a woman you just met.”

Lock walked in the door, his lips curving in a grin as he took his seat at the head of the table. “How’s married life?”

I glared at him, knowing he’d already heard about our little excursions. “Why did you call us in?”

“Oh, just thought you might want a job to get away for a few days.”

“And why would I want that?” I snapped. “I just got married.”

“Yes, you just got married and ended up in the hospital on the first day.”

“Second,” I corrected.

“Right, from a cat attack.”

“Multiple cat attacks,” Red corrected. “Don’t forget about the cat latching onto your balls in the kitchen.”

As if I needed the reminder. “Is there a point to any of this?”

“Hey, we’re just looking out for you.” Lock tossed a file our way. “I’ve got a good one for you. I think you’ll like this one.”

“It’d better be fucking good,” I muttered, flipping the file open. I gritted my teeth at what I saw. “Is this a fucking joke?” I snarled.

Lock bit back his smile, pressing his fist to his face to keep from laughing at me. “It’s a serious job.”

I picked up the picture of the cats and flipped it to face him. “You want us to transport cats?”

“Well, seeing as how you’re already so good at dealing with them,” he chuckled. “And those aren’t just any cats. Those are prize-winning cats.”

I slammed the folder closed and shoved it back at him. “No.”

“Oh, come on,” he laughed. “This is a serious job!”

“Transporting cats?” I shouted, shoving to my feet.

“Award-winning cats,” Eli corrected. “They’re worth a million dollars.”

“For fucking cats?” I shouted, my eyes bugging out .

“Again, award-winning cats,” Red answered. “These things go for up to over a hundred grand a piece.”

“For a fucking cat?” I snarled.

“Hey, we don’t discriminate,” Lock chuckled. “We’re being paid handsomely to get these cats across the country to their owners.”

“Stick ‘em on a fucking plane and call it a day,” I muttered.

Lock shook his head again. “I’m afraid we can’t do that. I’ve been given explicit instructions on what these cats need.” He snapped his fingers in thought. “Hey, you know someone who really likes cats?”

“No,” I snarled immediately. “We are not bringing Daphne along.”

“She could take care of the cats while you handle transport.”

“No,” I answered again. “She’d end up bringing one of them home with her.”

“Only if she had a hundred thousand dollars,” Lock grinned.

I pointed at the table to make this clear. “Only if she drained me of the money first, and I don’t have that kind of money to spend on a fucking cat!”

That wasn’t entirely true. When my old man passed, a huge chunk of his fortune came my way, and though I hadn’t wanted a dime of it, it came to me all the same. It was just sitting in the bank collecting interest because I didn’t know what to do with it.

“Like I said,” Lock grinned. “She’d just be taking care of the cats. No need to worry about her taking any home.”

I was about to argue further when he stood and grinned at someone behind me. “Daphne!”

I spun around and shook my head, pissed that he went behind my back. “What the fuck are you doing?” I snarled at him.

“Daphne, we have a job for you, if you’re willing to take it.”

“We do not,” I cut in.

“It’s taking care of a special breed of cat while we transport them.”

“She’s not doing it!” I insisted. “She’s supposed to be at home resting!”

“Cats?” she beamed. “I love cats!”

“No!”

“See? It’s all working out great,” Lock chuckled .

“But why do you need to transport cats?” she asked curiously.

“They’re expensive. It’s very important we keep them in good health while we move them across the country.”

“I can do that,” she beamed.

“No,” I said, running over and standing in front of her.

“No, she cannot do that because we have our own cats to take care of! And…” I fumbled for any reason at all that she couldn’t go along.

“She just had a concussion. She’s supposed to be resting.

And I’m pretty sure flying with a concussion is a no-go. ”

“Oh, I got automatic feeders for them this morning,” Daphne piped up.

“And I already checked with her doctor,” Lock grinned. “Cleared for takeoff. It was just a mild concussion.”

I snarled at him, ready to send one of her murder cats on him. How dare he interfere with my wife.

“And I’m sure some of the kids would be glad to go over and help take care of them,” Lock chimed in.

“Oh, for sure,” Red laughed. “I know of a few rugrats who would love that.”

I glared at Red, on the verge of punching him in the face for getting involved in this and turning on me.

“We are not bringing her along.”

“Well, since I’m running the company, this is really between Daphne and me,” Lock grinned. “I don’t think you have much say in it.”

I spun around and faced my new wife, ready to argue with her when I saw the hope in her eyes that I’d let her come along.

I just couldn’t stand to tell her no. It was fucking impossible when she stared at me with those bright green eyes.

And at that moment, I knew I was fucking screwed for the rest of my life.

I’d end up with a house full of cats, give her anything she wanted, and probably go broke making her happy.

And it would all fucking be worth it to see that look on her face.

“Fine. When do we leave?”

“Hey!” I called out to Daphne. “Do not open that cage!”

She was bent in front of one of the cages, smiling at the fucking cat who was purring at her. I knew better than to let her near the damn thing. By the end of this trip, I was going to own one of these fucking Ashera cats.

“Oh, he’s just sad and lonely,” she crooned, sticking her fingers in the cage.

“Don’t—”

She spun and glared at me, though there was little heat behind the look. “He’s not going to attack me. He’s so sweet.”

“Sweet my ass,” I muttered. “The thing looks like a miniature leopard.”

Red clapped me on the shoulder as he strode up beside me, grinning like a fool. “Look on the bright side. She’s fully entertained for the flight and you can take a nap.”

Right. Like that was going to happen. I had to keep both eyes open around this woman. God only knew what would happen if I wasn’t watching.

Footsteps drew my attention from my errant wife toward the door of the plane. “Are we ready?” Max muttered as he boarded the flight, stumbling around.

My eyes widened in horror. “This is fucking worse than if Scottie was flying.”

“Relax. Max has this,” Red chuckled.

“He’s fucking drunk!”

“He’s always drunk,” Red countered. “It’s the only way he can fly anymore without puking.”

I shook my head in disgust. “You know, just once, I think we should get a pilot who isn’t about to ruin one of our planes or send us into the ocean.”

“Oh, come on. Every time that happens, there’s a logical explanation for it. ”

“Yeah, logical,” I snorted in derision. “Like hitting birds or being attacked. Do you know what the odds are of going down in a plane crash?”

He winced, scratching the back of his head. “It’s definitely higher in our line of work.”

“One in a million,” I informed him. “One in a fucking million. That’s for the average citizen.

Oh, but we’re not average. No,” I chuckled.

“Because we have fucking pilots who puke and drink on the job. We end up in the ocean more often than we do at the actual airport. That’s not normal, Red.

It’s not fucking normal. And on this flight—the one we’re taking today where we’re transporting fucking cats—my brand new wife is on the same fucking flight.

Do you get how shitty that is? Look at her! ”

I scowled, pointing my finger in her direction.

“Fucking innocent and naive with no idea that the odds are most definitely not in our favor on this flight. She will die because we had to jump out of a plane, but she was too fucking concerned about those fucking cats. Because I know my wife. I might be a newly wed with only a couple of days under my belt, but I already know that if the plane was going down, she wouldn’t leave without those fucking cats.

She’d rather die in a fiery crash than save her own damn skin.

“And where does that leave me?” I ranted. “A husband who gets his wife killed on their first flight has to be the shittiest husband in the world! That’s me! The shittiest husband because I let her come on this flight, knowing that we’d most likely be killed!”

I was panting hard, my chest heaving as I ranted, but I couldn’t stop. The words flowed from my mouth in a flurry of panic. My wife was about to die. I felt it deep in my gut.

Then Red clapped me on the shoulder and squeezed hard. “You need to relax. This is like the mummy thing all over again.”

I scowled at him, about to clip him in the balls and see how he liked it.

“We took precautions,” he said, rolling his eyes at me. “The cages are outfitted with parachutes. All we have to do is toss the fuckers out the door, activate the parachutes, and we’re in business. Your wife is not going to die in a fiery crash.”

The ache in my chest eased, but only slightly. “I still don’t like it.”

He choked out a laugh, glancing at my wife. “Trust me, if Zoe was here, I’d feel the same way. It’ll be fine.”

“It’ll be fine,” I muttered mockingly as he walked away. “Famous last words.”

“What’s that?” Daphne asked as she snuck up behind me.

Sighing, I rubbed my hand over my face, feeling the stress already building.

This trip was going to be the death of me.

I knew it. “Listen, I need you to pay attention to everything that’s going on.

If I tell you to do something, you do it without question.

If I tell you to abandon the cats, you fucking do it. ”

Her face creased in worry, but I didn’t let those thoughts linger in her head.

“When we’re on a job, it’s important that everyone follows instructions. Do you understand?”

“Yes, captain,” she saluted, biting back a grin.

“I’m not a captain.”

“Oh…Yes, lieutenant!”

“Daphne—”

“Was that not right either?” she grinned. “I could always call you private.”

My eyes narrowed at her playfulness. “I am most definitely not a private.”

“Well, whatever you want me to call you…” Her eyes widened at the double entendre.

“Let’s get this show on the road!” Eli called out, stomping to the back of the plane. “Kavanaugh, sit your pretty wife down and strap her in.”

“Oh, I thought I would sit with the?—”

Her lips snapped shut when I narrowed my eyes at her.

“Right. I’ll just find a seat,” she said, scurrying past me.

How the hell did I end up in this situation?

Fucking cats and my wife on the plane…I’d rather be home with the demon cats than here on this flight.

Worry ate at my gut just knowing that Max was up there, probably drunk off his ass and about to take us all down.

How the hell was I supposed to make it through this flight without puking?

I marched up to the front of the plane, tearing back the plastic shield that used to be there for Scottie, but was now used for Max.

“Listen up,” I snarled, getting in his face. “If you so much as steer us in the wrong direction, I will take out my knife and cut off your balls, and then I’ll mail them home to Christa and bury your body in the desert. Am I fucking clear?”

“How can you be sure we’ll be near a desert?”

“I’ll find one.”

“So, you’ll potentially travel thousands of miles to bury my body in the desert instead of just tossing me out the window for the birds to eat?”

“Would you rather I do that?”

He shrugged noncommittally. “I’m just pointing out the potential flaws of your plan. Seems like an awful lot of travel just to bury something that would probably get eaten by a bear or woodpecker before you found the desert.”

“Woodpeckers don’t eat humans.”

“Well, maybe I found human-eating woodpeckers.”

“Maybe you’re just talking out your ass to piss me off.” I jabbed a finger into his chest. “Make the fucking flight.”

He tipped his head back, tugging the cigar out of his mouth as he grinned at me. “You’re worried about the little lady.”

“She’s not one of us,” I growled. “Don’t fuck this up.”

“Relax. I had plenty to drink this morning. Not an ounce of butterflies in my stomach. I’ve got this.”

“Drinking is not part of the job!”

“It is in my case. You’re so tense,” he frowned. “Have you gotten laid yet?”

“I’ve been too busy getting attacked by cats,” I muttered.

“Well…you should do something about that,” he said, pointing his cigar at me. “You know, this is just another job. It’ll be a piece of cake. ”

My nostrils flared in annoyance at his words. “You just fucking had to say it.”

“Because I’m not superstitious like you,” he chuckled. “Come on. What’s the worst that can happen?”