Chapter 5

I used my manners today. Bitch, please is adequate, right?

-Annie’s secret thoughts

Annie

If you’d have asked me two weeks ago what I would be doing today, it would’ve never been what I was doing.

“Are you sure this is legal?” I asked once more.

Mig glared at me.

“Yes,” he insisted. “It’s my car!”

“Actually, it’s your wife’s car,” I informed him. “And what are you hoping to accomplish by having me move it?”

“I’m hoping that she’ll try to call someone,” he informed me, shutting the door on my retort.

I moved his wife’s car behind the building, parked it in the back behind a dumpster and got out.

I headed back to my car, while Mig dutifully followed behind me the entire way.

“You know the phrase stealing from a baby?” I asked him as I dropped into the passenger side of my car.

My eyes went down to the junk in the floorboard.

Since I never sat on this side of the car, I never realized just how dirty it was.

It needed a wash…bad.

“Yeah, why?” He asked, whipping the car around so fast that my head spun.

“Mig!” I cried out, grasping the ‘oh shit’, or ‘OS’, handle and holding on for dear life.

Mig laughed.

I wanted to punch him.

“That’s what it feels like I just did. Stealing a pregnant woman’s car,” I admitted to him.

He pulled up beside the store, just to the side of where Jennifer’s car had been parked, and got out.

I followed suit, and we leaned against the hood as we watched the front doors.

“It’s my car. And I won’t let her walk home. She’ll find a ride, and if I’m right, she’ll find one with someone that’s not me,” he informed me.

I blinked.

“What makes you think it won’t be you she calls?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Jennifer never calls me. Never. She barely talks to me unless it’s to bitch about something…or someone.”

I still didn’t know what to think about all that was Jennifer.

She always had a perpetual scowl on her face.

She’s never once waved hello the few times we’d seen each other

She didn’t speak to me. Didn’t ever help Mig out in the yard.

And with Mig’s explanation about what had really happened to bring the two of them together, it all seemed to make a sick sort of sense.

Why I never saw them hug. Why she watched him leave every day with a glare on her face. Why I’d never seen them be affectionate to each other. Often, I could hear them both screaming at each other.

Mig’s phone chimed for the fourth time in less than ten minutes, and I looked at him with a questioning gaze.

“Need to leave?” I asked hopefully.

He shook his head, pulling his phone out, tapping out a few words, then replacing it.

“No. It’s Griffin giving me updates on Carl Copeland,” he said. “He’s got quite a bit of interesting information.”

I nodded.

Carl Copeland, as I’d later learned was his name, was a small time boy just looking for his next fix.

But, apparently, both Griffin and Mig had thought there was more to the story, so he was escorted by Griffin to their office where he would continue asking him questions, hoping to get more information out of him than he originally had.

“And?” I asked, bored out of my mind.

Who knew a stakeout would be so boring?

“Got a few names we need to track down. Griffin’s sending them to the computer people to get dossiers on them,” Mig explained. “You need to be careful, though.”

I blinked. “What? Why?”

He raised a brow at me that I saw over the top of his sunglasses.

“You nearly got yourself caught up in a botched drug deal, and everyone else saw the message you sent to that man. You may have deleted it, but that shit always comes back to bite you in the ass,” he explained.

“You think someone else is going to contact me about getting drugs?” I asked in alarm.

Mig shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not.”

Oh, great. Now I was freaking out.

“What do I do if I get contacted about that?” I asked worriedly. “What if they show up at my shop?”

Mig looked at me, studying me so long that I worried I asked a stupid question.

“Do you have an alarm at your shop?” He asked.

I shook my head.

“No. There’s nothing really in it to steal. While I’m doing massages, I lock the door. The only thing they could get to if they broke in is about two hundred bottles of shampoo, conditioner, mousse and lotion,” I answered.

He nodded, turning back to the door when someone came outside.

My breath caught in my throat when I saw Jennifer standing there with a huge bag in her hand.

She looked around the parking lot, her face showing her confusion as she turned in a slow circle.

Her arms crossed over her chest, her large bag slammed against her stomach, and Mig growled.

My breath caught as I watched Mig watch her.

He may not love Jennifer, but he did love their baby.

And when Jennifer stomped to a bench on the side of the store, fell heavily into it, then pulled out her phone, I hoped beyond hope that Mig’s phone would ring.

Instead, I waited with bated breath as she called someone else, spoke for a few long minutes with wild hand gestures, then dropped the phone back into her purse.

She crossed her arms over her stomach angrily and glared at the parking spot where her car had been sitting.

Mig slowly let out a breath at my side, and I turned to him once again.

“Do you want your baby?” I asked carefully.

He nodded.

“Yeah.”

Simple as that.

No more, no less.

That was totally Mig.

Would he change his mind about Jennifer when she gave birth to their child?

Children changed everything, absolutely everything.

My parents like to talk all the time about how they had grand plans on traveling the world.

Then I was born, and all their plans were derailed…not that they were that upset about it.

I was supposedly the ‘best thing that ever happened to them.’

Although, I’d heard my mother say the same thing to my sister, so I knew she was lying to one of us.

But children were used as pawns in divorce all the time.

Would this child be?

I hoped not.

The child deserved to have two parents who could at least be cordial to one another.

And I hoped beyond hope that the story of the baby’s conception forever stayed a secret.

We waited for long minutes, and just when I was about to suggest we go over there, Mig leaned forward.

“Bingo,” he growled.

I blinked, studying the parking lot.

That was when I saw the white Mercedes.

Mig started to repeat letters and numbers to himself as he pulled out his phone, then he typed it in before shoving it back into his pocket.

I wondered what those letters had meant until I saw Jennifer round the car and open the passenger door.

And the brief glance we got of the driver had my stomach plummeting.

“I know him!” I said, thinking back to the client that I saw every Sunday and Thursday. “I give him massages twice a week after he plays a few rounds of golf at the country club just outside of town.”

Mig growled.

“What’s his name?” He asked.

I closed my eyes and thought of the name that was just on the tip of my tongue.

“Larry…Leonel…no…Liam!” I said excitedly. “His name is Liam Cornell.”

“What’s he do?” Mig asked, turning to me once the car that was picking Jennifer up pulled out into traffic.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I only massage him twice a week. During those times, he has his ear phones in, and I barely say a word to him the entire time.”

Mig blinked.

“Is that your way with every male client?” He asked.

I nodded. “Every female client as well. I try to stay out of their business while I’m massaging, since it’s such a personal experience. As for doing hair, that’s when I’ll know my clients better.”

Mig nodded. “What times does he usually come?” He continued.

I pursed my lips. “Normally just after lunchtime. Around two or so. I’m guessing he comes straight from his weekly golf game because it’s not often that I don’t see him decked out in his golfing attire.”

“That tomorrow?” He asked me.

I nodded. “It’s a first come, first serve system. We don’t make appointments, so I just assume he’s coming. But he hasn’t missed one in three months.”

Mig smiled. “Well, then I guess I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow.”