Page 26 of Theirs to Hunt

Emergency change of plans!

They stole my orgasms.

Who, the Orgasm Goblins?

They took my vibrators.

Took them!

I need wine and a dartboard with their pictures on it.

I need something too, and that isn’t it, but definitely on the booze. Also, on the off chance there are cameras here? The equipment your contact got didn’t work. Let’s meet at Tonique’s.

I don’t want to plan here and, damn it, I want an old-fashioned.

I drop the phone, flop back on the bed, and glare at my ceiling.

“Oh my God,” I whisper to the air.

“This isn’t a game to them.”

And worse?

It’s not a game for me either.

Chapter twenty-three

Reagan, Tuesday 06:45 p.m.

Ichange into jeans and a cute blouse with a ditsy print, sandals and head down to my favorite bar.

It's perfect and cozy and a bit more of a locals hang out, everything off Bourbon street really is.

As I walk down and enjoy looking at the beautiful wrought iron on the buildings and hanging ferns, I miss the crisp air from when I lived outside of the city.

The New Orleans quarter area really only smells good when you are passing a bakery.

Otherwise, scents of hundreds of years of garbage and occasionally vomit and urine have baked into the bricks.

I dream of the day I can get my house and while I will miss the historic beauty, I really want a full fresh breath.

I duck in the door and wave to Jean Pierre the bartender as I head straight to the fireplace booth that just opened up to wait for Bobbie.

The scent of wood smoke and the warm welcoming smile from the staff make me finally relax, at least for now.

Tonique's is glowing softly around the edges, all amber light and wood smoke and the faint scent of citrus oil from someone's drink.

I'm tucked into the fireplace seat, one heel kicked off, nursing an Old Fashioned. It's literally the only thing tethering me to this realm.

I've just sunk into that first delicious sip when the front door bangs open.

Bobbie barges in on her way to start a war on my behalf.

Sunglasses on despite the twilight, her tote bag clutched a weapon.

She spots me, veers straight to the booth, and slides in a woman on a mission.

"I came prepared," she says without preamble. "Taser, pepper spray, and an old bottle of chloroform someone gave me when I gave them stitches on the side."