A.W. Hartoin - Mercy Watts 04 - Drop Dead Red by A.W. Hartoin Read Free Book Online

 
    “That movie didn’t count. You went to sleep.”  
    “Well, I had a long day, and I’m about to have a long night.”  
    Aunt Miriam got pensive and then smiled. “ American Horror Story: Asylum . I’ve been saving the season.”  
    “For when you really hate me?” I asked.  
    “Don’t be silly. We’re family.”  
    I didn’t know what that meant, but it was best not to inquire. I watched Jessica Lange chew up her dialog from behind a throw pillow. Aunt Miriam sat on the edge of her seat with her hands clasped in joy. When the first episode was over, she was genuinely sad that I had to go. I was, too. I had to go out in a frigid black-as-pitch night and walk through the grounds of an old convent. If that wasn’t a good opening for a horror movie, I didn’t know what was.  
      Once it was time to go, Aunt Miriam practically shoved me out the door with a meatloaf sandwich and a promise/threat that we’d do it again soon. Great. More movie nights with Aunt Miriam.  
    I walked alone through the silent half-lit halls of the convent, but it wasn’t the shadows that bothered me. It was my own thoughts. Blankenship wasn’t barred from sending or getting mail. He could have visitors. I might be right about him. What was to stop Blankenship from telling his partner about our little visit? He’d smiled, and I’d seen it. People knew me and now he did to. The feeling I had, while walking through those long corridors, was that I wasn’t alone. I was known and Blankenship was with me.  

    The visitor’s parking lot was empty, except for my truck and a Mercedes coupe. I stopped at the top of the staircase. Snowflakes whizzed by me and I squinted at the image of luxury below me. I didn’t know anyone who drove that car, and from what Blankenship’s bio said, he didn’t either. I got out my handy dandy pepper spray anyway and slowly walked down the stairs.  
    I found the Mercedes empty and let out a tense breath. Empty. Of course, it was empty. No one who drove that car was lying in wait for me in a convent parking lot. That was just stupid. It was some high-class donor meeting with the Mother Superior.  
    I relaxed and went around it to my truck. When I made it to the headlights, I saw a head, slightly bowed next to my driver’s side door.  
    “Mercy Watts. It’s about time.”  
    I knew that voice and I didn’t want to hear it.  
    Oz Urbani straightened up and grinned at me over my side mirror. I hadn’t seen him since August after I’d gotten back from Honduras. He was just as handsome with a light tan and soft dark curls waving back from his angular face. He rocked a scarf like no man I’d ever seen. Outside of GQ Magazine, that is. Oz was better than anyone that Blankenship might send my way, but I wasn’t thrilled. I’d done Oz a favor and he’d done me one in return. It had been a fruitful relationship, but I had hoped to never ever lay eyes on the nephew of Calpurnia Fibonacci again. Connections to organized crime wasn’t something I wanted on my résumé. But the Fibonaccis didn’t ask permission last time and they wouldn’t this time either.
    “What are you doing here?” I asked.  
    “Waiting for you. What took so long? Sister Miriam’s meatloaf can’t be that good,” he said.  
    “I don’t even want to know how you know about Aunt Miriam’s meatloaf.”  
    “Everybody knows.”  
    “Are you stalking me?”  
    “My cousin is Sister Mary Carlotta,” he said, grinning wider.  
    I tried to push him aside to put my key in the lock. “So you’re here to see her. Great. See ya.”  
    “I’m here to see you. Do you think I’d stand outside in this weather for a cousin?”
    “I don’t know what you’d do, which is kind of the problem.” I used my shoulder to try and knock him off balance. No luck. Oz was slight, but strong. “Get out of the way. I have to go to work.”  
    “I’m glad to see I don’t scare you,” he said, crossing his arms.  
    “Why