Page 28 of Sam to the Rescue

When she returns to the cash register, I ask again, “What business do you have with my husband?”

“I am not having an affair, if that is what you think.” Her lower lip trembles but I have no sympathy. My husband was a fucking SEAL, a war hero. He gave everything for our country and if she thinks it’s okay to trigger his PTSD, well, hell no. No fucking way.Not on my watch.

I pitch my voice to sound much more reasonable than I feel. “Ms. Hosseini, you have walked by our office over twenty times in the last two weeks. Why”

“This is not a crime.”

Fine. Have it your way.I channel my mom’s side of the family, lower my voice, and infuse it with venom. “If you don’t start talking, I will find every damn skeleton in your closet and bring them to life. You and your family better be squeaky clean from parking tickets to immigration because as of now, you are my primary focus and I won’t stop until you suffer physically, emotionally, and financially.”

I take back my phone and swipe some pictures under her nose. “That’s my dad, Police Chief Russo. This is my mobster uncle Vinny, my friend the hitman. This is my cat, she’s scary, too. Here’s my aunt and my sainted cousin with a direct line to God… You get the picture?”

“Please, do not bring the authorities to my home. You do not know my husband. He will be very angry.”

“Then tell me why you’re after mine.” Thank God I was fired from the FBI, I have no patience for interrogation.

“I swear, I am not after him. I was sitting right here a few weeks ago and a strange man handed me five one-hundred-dollar bills. He sent me locations and video cameras to avoid. All I had to do was walk by in my burqa, pretend to carry a baby, and go home.”

Dammit, yet another person to find.“How did the man contact you?”

“This.” She digs into a purse and slides a burner phone across the table. “Please, I must go home now.

“Not so fast.” I place a Patten Security card in front of her. “Tomorrow, you will stop by this office and work with a sketch artist.”

“If I do this thing, do you promise to let me be?” Under normal circumstances, I would feel bad for frightening her but she has put Suds’ life in jeopardy.

“If you cooperate fully.” Standing, I head home, more frustrated than when I left.

Who paidShabanaHosseiniand why?

Back at home, even after explaining my perfectly sound reasoning, the waiting Lucky reams me a new asshole because I left the apartment. Then, because of my elevated blood pressure, it takes me forever to fall asleep and when I do drift off, my phone rings.

“Huh?” Groggy, I swipe the screen and put the phone to my ear.

“Hey sugar. I need you to bail me out of jail.”

“What?” Why didn’t he call my dad, Slate or better yet, the damn Feds who put him under cover? None of this makes sense.

“Babe, you there?” His voice sounds like someone who’s had too much to drink but I have never seen my tough guy overindulge. What the fuck is going on?

Finally, my brain cells fire and my heart races when I recall my conversation with the Afghan woman.

“We need to talk.” I have to warn him. He wasn’t seeing ghosts. She was real.

“Nope. Not now. You gonna do it or not?” His belligerent tone would normally piss me off but I have to assume he’s being a jerk to maintain his persona.

“Asshole.” It’s the best I can do, considering the circumstances.

“I’ll make it up to you baby. I never meant those things I said. I’ll pay you back. I promise.”

“Fine.”

He chuckles. “I knew you’d come through for me.”

“I alwayscomefor you, tough guy.” The double entendre makes him laugh and for a moment he sounds like himself.

After hanging up, I wake Lucky sleeping in the spare bedroom and explain the situation. No matter how hard I try, he refuses to let me go. “No way, Jose. There can be no special favors or we’ll blow his cover. We’ll help him out in the morning.”

He’s right but I don’t have to like it. “Fine.”