Seconds: A Salvation Society Novel by Freya Barker & Salvation Society

Author:Freya Barker & Salvation Society [Barker, Freya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wild Thorns Press
Published: 2020-09-05T16:00:00+00:00

Cal

“Pooj? Can you run up to MinuteKEY and get five extra copies made?”

I hand her the key to my apartment. I’ll need one for her, three for the guys, and I want an extra one to give to Reagan, just in case.

I left both her and Sally to deal with what they needed to do after helping them rearrange Reagan’s furniture in her home office. We were able to fit in Sally’s desk—which we were able to salvage—as well as the two heavy filing cabinets. It’s tight, but workable in a pinch. The few other pieces of furniture we were able to rescue we ended storing in the garage for now.

“Sure thing. Need me to pick up some lunch?”

“Chick-fil-A,” Moe yells out from the kitchen, where he’s quickly depleting the contents of my fridge.

“You haven’t stopped eating yet!” Pooja yells back.

Since she’s the one who will be in the office most, we put her desk in front of the window in the living room. The guys did a decent job last night, and early this morning, hauling almost the entire contents of our offices into my apartment. Luckily the loft is a decent size and other than the bathroom and my bedroom, an open concept. I had a pretty minimalistic decor, so other than moving my couch and easy chair out of the way, it wasn’t too difficult to get a few desks in here.

“Those were snacks,” Moe answers, still chewing as he walks up. “I need something substantial.”

“Fine,” I intervene, or these two would keep up their bickering forever. “Pooj, if you don’t mind, take orders.” I toss a few bills on her desk. “Lunch is on me today. And have you heard from Dean?”

“He called in yesterday afternoon, after you left. He’s close, he expects to be back Tuesday or Wednesday.”

Dean is the third bondsman on my team. There are four of us plus Pooja, who basically runs the office. Of the five on our team, she’s the indispensable one. The rest of us rotate interchangeably through the cases, but she is our constant.

“What about you?”

“I had a big breakfast,” I tell her. “Besides, I have to make tracks. I’ve got to meet up with the insurance adjuster.”

“Oh, that reminds me, should I call Brand Automotive to tow Reagan’s car while you’re there?”

“Sure. I have a contractor coming to take a preliminary look too. May as well get as much done as I can while I’m there.”

I leave her to get the orders from the guys and disappear into my bedroom to pack a bag. I haven’t discussed in so many words whether Reagan would be agreeable to me bunking at her place for the time being, but this morning she seemed on board with the concept, which I’ll gladly take as acceptance. The more important consideration is the possibility she’s in danger. The setup yesterday—the fire and the disabling of her car—almost implies someone was trying to get her outside and vulnerable. It ended up not being

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