Molly Miranda: Honor Among Thieves (Book 3) Action Adventure Comedy by Hamilton Jillianne

Author:Hamilton, Jillianne [Hamilton, Jillianne]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: action, mystery, comedy, adventure, chick lit
Publisher: Tomfoolery Press
Published: 2017-05-09T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

Paul set up the meeting between Team Stan and our side (“I think it should be called ‘Team Molly.’” “Why not ‘Team Rhys?’” “Because ‘Team Rhys’ reminds me of Reese’s Pieces, and it makes me want a snack.”) on neutral territory: a diner near Paul’s pawnshop in Brooklyn.

“I know the owner,” Paul explained. “I slid him a few bucks to close the place for us for thirty minutes.”

Rhys and I sat on one side of the table, Paul sat on the end, and the two chairs across from us were left empty for Ezra and The Muscle.

Rhys checked his phone. “They’re late.”

“They’ll show up,” Paul said, lifting his pudgy hand. “Me ‘n Kenneth go way back.”

Rhys sat back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest.

Sure enough, a few minutes later The Muscle and Ezra arrived. Paul stood and shook hands with Kenneth.

“Good to see you, old man,” Paul said with a laugh.

“Who you calling old man, old man?” The Muscle replied with a smile. “How’s the wife and kids?”

I’d never seen him smile before. It was jarring.

While The Muscle and Paul got caught up, Ezra looked at us, a subtle smug little grin playing on his lips. He shook Paul’s hand and nodded in respectful greeting.

The Muscle started toward the table, but Paul frowned at him. “Come on, Kenneth. Aren’t you missing a step?”

He grumbled under his breath and pulled out the handgun he’d been keeping tucked into the back of his pants. He placed the gun on its side on the diner counter and knelt down, pulling his smaller gun from his ankle holster and placing it on the counter too.

Paul nodded to the table, and The Muscle joined us. Ezra stepped up and placed his own pistol on the counter.

Ezra approached us. “How do we know you’re not carrying?”

“Neither of you got shot yesterday,” I reminded him.

Ezra touched his emerald green tie, smoothing out a crease that wasn’t actually there before looking straight at me. “Maybe I should pat you down, just to make sure.”

Rhys sat up in his seat. “If you lay a fucking hand on her—”

“Hey,” Paul said. “We’re all adults here, and we’re going to play nicely. Ezra, sit down.”

Ezra threw a wild-eyed glare at Paul, yanking the chair out with a loud screech against the tile floor.

“We’re going to clear the air and answer questions either side may have,” Paul began. “We’ll go from there. Twenty minutes from now, we’ll all go our separate ways. Mr. Lamond, why don’t you start?”

“What happened that night in the farmhouse in Amsterdam?” Ezra spoke slowly and deliberately, enunciating every word carefully.

“We were driving away from Amsterdam with the Picasso painting, and we were stopped on the way out of the city by your father, who was wearing a police uniform,” I said.

Rhys picked it up. “He made us drive to the farmhouse. We waited for Delacroix to arrive. He was running late, but he eventually arrived—”

“Delacroix and Stan got into a fight about how the finder’s fee for the Picasso should be split up,” I said, cutting in.

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