Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 07 - Kidnapped in Paradise by Deborah Brown Read Free Book Online

me, because I hadn’t complained once and I'd finally let go of the cheater bar.
    Two salesmen leaned against a large column to the side, giving us a cursory glance before they went back to their conversation. They were new guys, which was no surprise as none of them stayed around long. These two reminded me of pimps: dark eyed with slicked-backed hair, dressed in their Florida uniform of shorts and tropical shirts that were unbuttoned to show off their bear-hairy chests, covered in gold chains.
    “Hey, Bitsy,” I yelled as we walked in and past her desk. “Your fake hair looks better than usual.”
    Bitsy was Brick ’ s long time receptionist. Her biggest job qualification was a pair of double D ’ s. Brick boasted that he promoted from within when he transferred Bitsy over from his strip club.
    She also ran an unsavory side business of selling information. I ’ d heard through gossip, which in our line of work frequently turned out to be the most reliable source, that Bitsy had screwed another customer, reselling the same information several times over.
    Apparently, the victim showed up at Famosa Motors, making a huge stink until the security guards escorted him off the property. He left, shouting threats and obscenities. I wondered if Brick gave her the talk about the rules, when to and when not to screw people over. Long overdue, in my opinion.
    Bitsy liked us even less than we liked her, which was saying something after she had screwed us over on a business deal last year. To show our displeasure, we tormented Bitsy as much as possible. On one visit, I pulled her hair and, to my surprise, it came completely off, revealing ugly, chopped-off, multi-colored hair. “I wish Brick would get rid of the two of you,” Bitsy snapped. She gave us the finger.
    “Oh, you're hurting our feelings.” I wiped away a pretend tear, sniffing as though holding back the floodgates.
    Fab and I looked at one another and giggled, gliding past her and up the stairs.
    “I need a favor,” Brick said as he flashed his loathsome smile. “I ’ d appreciate if the two of you would skip the drama and just do it. I ’ d hate to remind you that you both owe me.”
    I squinted at him. “You’ve got a lot of f ’ ing nerve. If Mother were here, she ’ d beat the hell out of you.”
    Mother had met him a handful of times, and she ’ d never been impressed. Smarmy was the word she used when referring to him.
    Fab laughed.
    “How many times have the jobs you’ve given us exploded in a hot second?” I demanded.
    “You could have just dumped this favor in my lap,” Fab smirked. “But no. For whatever reason, you have to have Madison on the job. Does that sum it up?”
    Brick sighed. “You remember Carmine Ricci, Madison? He ’ s got a job for you. I told him you already have a partner. He didn’t like it, but accepted it. He’s a preferred client, and I want you to take the job.”
    “Do you know any details?” Fab asked.
    “He only said this job needs a woman ’s touch . I’ve got a number here and he ’ s waiting for your call.” Brick pushed a notepad across the desk.
    I met Mr. Ricci on my first luxury car delivery. The experience was intense and a bit scary. He’d been a gentleman, but, then again, I ’ d never had the occasion to tell him, “No, I ’ m not interested.” I was willing to bet that Mr. Ricci never heard those words from anyone.
    “He ’s a mobster,” I told Fab.
    “There ’ s no proof of that ugly accusation,” Brick huffed. “ Carmine’ s a retired businessman and any stories to the contrary are lies. I’ll remind you, he ’ s also a longtime friend of mine.”
    Brick was one of those people who expected other people to take his every word as gospel truth.
    “Call him,” Brick pointed to the paper in front of me. “He ’ s waiting for your call.”
    Fab left her spot at the window that overlooked busy street below, surrounded by pricey commercial real estate. She made herself