Dirty by Debra Webb Read Free Book Online

difficult to find.   It was the part after finding him that would prove the real test.
    Big Hoss Aiken was mean as hell.   At six-seven and three hundred pounds of rock hard muscle he towered over most, intimidated all who had the misfortune of crossing his path.   Even the cops didn’t go pick him up when he jumped bail.   Not since they’d figured out I could do it without all the fanfare of S.W.A.T and tear gas.
    I appeared to be the only person in Texas who Big Hoss would listen to.   Would peacefully accompany back to Central Processing.   My secret was easy.   I’d gone to school with Big Hoss’s older sister.   Saved her ass more than once.   Big Hoss would do anything—I mean anything—his sister, who had long ago moved to Louisiana, told him to do, which included minding his manners around me.   Depending on what law he’d broken picking him up meant paying a number of things from the utility bill to Hobbs’ weekly salary.
    I made a so-what face as if I didn’t see the problem.   “What’s the big deal?   If he handles the situation I’ll know he can be counted on in a pinch.   In the event he fails I’ll take care of Hoss myself.”
    “Speaking of which.”   Hobbs turned all suspicious again, revving up his super-duper X-ray vision and trying to read my mind.   “Where’s the receipt for Willis?”
    A lungful of exasperation puffed out of me.   I couldn’t put off the inevitable forever.   I was surprised he didn’t know already.   Of course there was always the possibility that he did and just wanted to watch me dance over the hot coals of apprehension for his viewing entertainment.   “He’s involved in an ongoing federal investigation,” I deadpanned.   “They cut him loose.”
    This time my assistant’s eyes bulged to the point I feared I might have to pick them up off the floor and poke them back into his head.   Okay, so maybe he hadn’t heard already.   “You’re joking, right?”   He laughed then coughed in an attempt to catch the breath he’d apparently lost upon hearing my explanation.
    “No joke, Hobbs.   It’s hands-off where Willis is concerned.”   I pretended not to notice the way his entire head turned red.   Hobbs was one of those really pale blonds with short spiky hair that allowed his scalp to show through whenever he blushed or stayed in the sun too long.   He was actually kind of cute when he wasn’t suffering from what I call VES, vagina envy syndrome—the gay male version of PMS.
    “Well.”   He made a show of rearranging the mass of papers on his desk.   “There goes next month’s budget,” he muttered to himself.
    There was that.   “I’m sure something will come along,” I offered with a dismal attempt at optimism.   It always did...at least most of the time anyway.   From the beginning, no matter how desperate things got, someone always skipped out on their bail or needed their no-good, two-timing husband followed.   I’d made a small fortune over the years recording the comings and goings (mostly comings) of men who cheated on their women.   I had no reason to believe my luck wouldn’t hold out in this feast or famine business.   It’s my personal life where my good fortune generally goes missing in action.
    “I suppose you’re right.”   Hobbs heaved a woebegone sigh but caught himself mid-exhale.   His expression abruptly morphed from gloom and doom to something resembling malicious anticipation.   He glanced toward my office, then down at my feet.   “There’s always that other option we’ve talked about before.”
    His meaning cleared instantly.   “No way.”   I backed away from his desk as if standing too close would give him some unforeseen advantage.
    “I know a buyer on eBay who would pay top dollar for that Birkin.   Black crocodile with diamonds.”   He nodded.   “Oh yes.   And those Christian Louboutins could pay two-months’ utility bills.”   He made another hasty