Read Online Take the Monkey and Run by Laura Morrigan - Free Book Online Page A

gleaming glass and brass doors of the hotel and took a right—which was the opposite direction from where our bikes were parked.
    â€œWhere are we going?” I asked Belinda. “The bikes are that way.”
    â€œLeave the bikes. We’re not going far.”
    Figuring she had a plan, I followed. The day remained chilly—which was a good thing. I needed the cool wind to blow the clouds out of my bourbon-fogged brain. Our hurried pace also helped.
    Even in platform heels, Belinda was fast, and I struggled to keep up with her long stride. We walked past antiques shops boasting gilded furniture and glittering chandeliers and art galleries displaying bold modern paintings. At one shop, I spotted a large calico cat lounging in the front window next to one of those famous Blue Dog paintings.
    Just past the marble steps of a beautiful judicial building we stepped into the welcome warmth of Café Beignet.
    The place was hopping. Its tiny round tables were packed with customers waiting for the café’s namesake treat. A waiter zigzagged through the crowd carrying a tray of the powdered sugar–covered fried dough, and suddenly I was hungry again.
    â€œWe’ll never find an open table,” I said to Belinda, realizingshe hadn’t attracted as many looks as I’d expected. Maybe this crowd was more local and used to seeing Amazonian-sized drag queens sporting angel wings and halos.
    â€œSure we will. Come on.” Belinda led me out a side door into a courtyard and over to a small metal table.
    â€œWe should be okay here,” she said as we sat. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
    I pulled the package out of my jacket and hesitated, glancing around. “You sure? We’re only a couple blocks from the hotel.”
    â€œWhoever these people following you are, they ain’t going to come here.”
    I followed the wave of her manicured hand to the building next door and saw what she meant.
    Two police officers walked up the steps and crossed the portico. As they reached the door, it opened and a third cop exited the building.
    â€œA police station?”
    â€œRight next to a place that sells fried dough. Ain’t that something? Now, the suspense has been killing me. What’s in the bag?”
    Before tearing the package open, I took time to inspect the envelope, but found only my name, handwritten in thick black ink.
    The package contained two things: my phone and a card.
    â€œIs that your phone?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œSo your friend gave it back?”
    â€œLooks like it.”
    â€œIs there a note or anything?”
    I shook my head. “Just this.” I held up the card.
    â€œWhose phone number is it?”
    â€œLogan’s, probably.”
    â€œDoes that mean he wants you to call him?”
    â€œI don’t really care what he wants. I need to get in touch with my sister.”
    I opened my contacts and hit her number. It went to voice mail without ringing. I left her a message to call me back and hung up, frowning.
    â€œI’m sure she’s fine,” Belinda said, reading my expression easily.
    â€œIt’s not her I’m worried about.” I explained what I’d overheard on Emma’s message and my concern for whomever Moss had been growling at.
    â€œWell,” Belinda said. “You didn’t have a second message at the hotel saying he’d mauled anyone, right?”
    â€œRight.” I relaxed a little at the logic.
    â€œCheck your phone.”
    I did. There were two missed texts from Kai. One wishing me luck on my “case” and a second from that morning, saying he was working a case and would be out of touch until that afternoon.
    â€œNothing about Moss,” I said to Belinda.
    â€œThen don’t sweat it. You got bigger fish to fry.”
    I picked up Logan’s card and dialed the number. After a couple of rings, a recorded voice told me the person I was trying to