Page 7 of Booked for Theft

I would let him decide which type of hungry I meant, and if he failed to detect the innuendo, I would enjoy surprising him.

“Indian, Thai, Chinese, or barbecue?”

“Let’s go with Indian, and make it as spicy as you can. I’ll be home soon. I suggest that you wait up for me.”

“And what do I get if I don’t?” he challenged.

I grinned, well aware he understood his fate should I catch him snoozing when I arrived home. Either way, we would both win. “Nap and find out.”

“Let me know when you’re twenty minutes from home, and I’ll make sure our dinner is on the way—or warming up if traffic doesn’t cooperate.”

“You got it. No trouble, you. You’re only permitted to get into trouble when I’m there to help you out of it.”

“I’ll stay out of trouble. Anyway, I should be the one telling you that.”

“If I see any goats blocking the road, I will likely try to stay out of trouble but fail to do so.”

He snickered. “I’ll take you to see our goats and horses on Saturday. Just try to stay away from dangerous animals and politicians until then.”

“I’ll try, but I’m not making any promises on that score.”

While Bradley’s old car protested, I made it home without incident. I parked the red beauty next to my SUV, stopping to take the time to appreciate change and its unrelenting nature. Both vehicles were the same color, but Bradley’s paint had dulled over the years while mine gleamed in the overhead lights. Our family car, which we battled over fiercely for the right to drive, took the spot on the other side of my SUV.

In reality, once the sporty car retired, Bradley would drive the family car while I maintained jealous control over my SUV.

Thus far, I’d allowed him to drive my baby once and only once, and that had been during the test drive phase of purchasing.

No matter what we did, life changed. Time played a role in that. I wondered at a lot of things, and my visit with Senator Thaddens gnawed away at me. No matter how many times I revisited our conversation, the looming fear of having missed something critical took root and grew.

What had I missed?

How had I missed it?

The memory stick in my purse would burn away at me given time, but at least I could solve that problem readily enough. I would hand it over to Bradley, and he’d dig out his special laptop, one that had no ability to connect to the internet whatsoever and was erased at least once a week, reformatted and reinstalled so all evidence of our activities disappeared.

I expected the memory chip would be introduced to some explosives or a metal grinder until nothing but scrap remained—scrap that was melted down into a blob so that there was no hope of recovering the information on it.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, and I couldn’t help but feel the doomsday clock ticked down, and it skipped seconds at its whim.

With the care the ancient codices deserved, I removed the box from the car and set it on the roof of my SUV while I got out the box of oils meant to keep everything in pristine condition. I was locking Bradley’s car when he showed up, chuckling at my slow ways.

“You’re late, Janette.”

I checked my watch and rolled my eyes. “By two whole minutes. But since you’re here, you can carry part of my plunder. Senator Thaddens knows what a librarian needs, and he provided.” Before he could protest, I handed over the wooden box. “That’s part of a kit for caring for precious aged tomes.”

“Ah, I see. My librarian would like to go antique book hunting now that she has been enabled through the tools required to keep her new hoard safe.”

Unable to help myself, I grinned and nodded before retrieving my codices. “He started my collection with two pieces, and he taught me how to care for them, but they’ll have to go to a university for specialty care every now and then. I’ll probably take them in yearly unless they have a different recommendation.”

“The politicians seem to have clued in that you enjoy books.”

“I will even tolerate their presence for numerous hours at a time should books be involved. I have successfully completed my mission, and my boss will be pleased with me. I have taken a senator for a great deal of money, all of it funding our library system. I know, for a fact, that I will have a beautiful acquisitions budget for our new floors, for I witnessed him send the wire specifically earmarked for those exploits.” Aware nothing except the interior of our home was safe from watchful eyes, I hustled towards the elevator. “I trust you secured supper, sir.”

“Supper arrived five minutes ago, as I have learned that a hungry woman is an unhappy woman. I made certain to acquire the restaurant’s spiciest dish for you to try—and I asked them to see if they might defeat you. I’m hopeful. One of the reviews of the restaurant implied their dishes should come with a biohazard label due to excessive heat.”

“That sounds promising. Let’s put this stuff in my office, and then we’ll eat. Yes, the senator fed me, but I ate what is socially acceptable.”

I could—and often did—eat twice as much as most people while running a risk of losing weight.