“But I’m not part of the job,” Saige insisted.
“No. Protecting you is. You’re not just his girlfriend, you’re his client.”
Saige giggled, thinking of the odd implications that had. “I want you to know that’s really weird, Trevor.”
He shrugged, agreeing with her. “Never said it wasn’t. This case is almost over. When it is, a lot of these folks will be locked away. You won’t have to worry anymore.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Of course I am. I’ve been doing this a few years, working with Romy. We go back a long way. He’s the best.”
“Thanks, Trevor. Suzie, I feel a lot better now. Thank you. I’m bawling like a baby.”
“I would be too. I think you’ve held up real well in all this. I’d have fallen apart way before now. Probably somewhere between the chloroform and the coffee.”
“Not you, Suzie, you trash baddies all the time.”
“You put that one guy in the hospital after he hit your friend.”
“What guy?” Trevor asked.
“My college roommate’s ex-fiancé, Nick. He liked to hit women. Now he can’t hit anyone because I broke one arm in three places and dislocated the other.”
Trevor winced then chuckled. “What discipline do you study?”
“I’m a black belt in karate and working on Krav Maga.”
“Really?” He looked impressed. “Cool.”
They made sure Saige was all right and went back to the living room. Saige could hear them talking as they walked down the hall.
“What can you do, Trev?”
“I’m a black belt in Capoeira and Kung Fu. Working on Krav Maga too. Can you shoot?”
“Baby, I ‘m Southern. I could hold a gun before I could talk ….”
Their voices faded to a low mumble as she fell asleep. It seemed only minutes that she slept before Suzie woke her.
“Hey, wake up, sleepy. It’s almost nine. Brodie called, he’ll be here soon. The new guy is here. He’s having a cup of coffee with me and Trev.”
“K, I’ll be out in a couple minutes.”
Saige dressed in some clothing Suzie had loaned her and went to the living room. A huge, dark skinned man sat across the coffee table from Suzie and Trevor. He stood when she walked in.
“Hi, Miss Ingalls. I’m King.” He sounded like a cross between Tone Loc and Barry White.
“King? Is that your first name?” She blinked blearily, slightly confused.
He chuckled, sitting back down. “Yes, ma’am. You know, kind of like Prince?”
“Can you sing?”
“Not that well, ma’am. But I’m a hell of a dancer.”
“Good. The world needs more dancers. Coffee?” She smiled, inhaling the mug Suzie handed her. “Sorry, I’m not much good without out a few of these. Nice to meet you, King.”
“We’ll stay long enough to vouch for Brodie,” Trevor told him. “But you know how to reach me.”
“With luck, we won’t have to interrupt your—sleep,” King laughed.
There was a tentative tap at the door. Trevor and King flanked it, Suzie and Saige stayed put, out of the direct line of sight.
“Who is it?” Suzie called, trying not to sound scared.
“It’s Malcolm Wallace Brodie,” he answered. “Suzanne Colette Joan Graph, let me in. My hands are full. I bring documents and food.”
“That’s Brodie,” Suzie winced. “He’s the only one besides my family who remembers my confirmation name.”
“Saint Joan of Arc?” Trevor asked as he carefully opened the door, checked the street and closed it quickly behind Brodie. “Why did you pick her?”
“She stuck up for what she believed in. I admired the hell out of that when I was a kid. A little bitty girl got to tell armies of grown men what to do and whooped some serious ass.”
“Until a man betrayed her,” Saige reminded her.
“Yeah, I know. The bastard.”