I’d painted everything a soft peach, I had chartreuse arm chairs and an electric blue sofa with clean lines and a kickass dining room table that could fold out to seat twelve people (though in a little bit of a crush). All of this gave off a feel of light, airy, modern and uncluttered. The floors were new hardwood and gleaming and I wanted to throw myself on them and kiss them.

Instead I ran to the phone and grabbed it. Lee would be at my place soon and I didn’t have a lot of time. I was sacrificing Barolo Grill for this, not to mention what was to be my first-ever “date” with Lee. If I didn’t hurry, I’d lose control and give in, give up and go with Lee.

Then something occurred to me and I put the phone down and stared at it.

If Lee and his boys could disable the alarm, get into my store, wire it, install cameras and re-enable the alarm, then they could bug my phones too.

Crap.

I looked out the window and saw Matt sitting in his SUV. He wasn’t leaving.

Crap again.

Maybe I was being paranoid but I wasn’t going to take any chances.

I ran upstairs. Two bedrooms separated by a bath, my bedroom in back had a door to a balcony that was half the roof of my kitchen, half overhanging my brick-paved backyard. The front room was the TV room and where I kept my desk.

I wrote a note for Lee and ran downstairs and put it on the ottoman that sat between my sofa and chairs and served as a coffee table.

The note said, “Something came up. Rain check?”

I had no idea if he’d come into my house, but if he did, he’d see it. If he didn’t, I wasn’t going to put the note on the door for Matt to see it now. Lee would just have to think he was stood up. I’d explain later (or find a believable lie).

I ran back upstairs, went out to the balcony and jumped the small railing to my neighbor’s balcony and then banged on their outside bedroom door.

Tod and Stevie lived next door. They were both flight attendants. They had a chow dog named Chowleena who gave more attitude than either Tod or Stevie, and as Tod was the top drag queen in Denver, this meant Chowleena threw a lot of ‘tude. I watched Chowleena when they were both on flights and I loved that dog, I understood attitude, admired it, respected it and encouraged it. Her two Dads were of her ilk. Stevie made eggs benedict from scratch and always smiled and kissed your cheek when he saw you. Tod could lip sync to “Time and Tide” like nobody’s business, could make me laugh so hard tears rolled down my cheeks and we shared the same dress size. They kept the yard tidy and were quiet. They were the best neighbors ever.

Tod opened the door and stared at me.

“Girlie, what in the hell are you doing? And what happened to your face?”

I pushed into their bedroom, shut the door behind me and ran it down for him.

I told him about the shooting, diamonds, coffee guy, stun-gunning, kidnapping, Lee’s sex extortion plans and the love-of-my-life business and even Tex with the goggles. I explained I needed to hang out at their house until Lee came and went or I’d likely be charmed out of my panties and have my heart broken by seven o’clock Monday morning.

Tod blinked.

Then he said, as he linked arms with me and walked me out of his room, “Stevie’s barbequing chops. I’m sure we have extra.”

They always had extra and not much fazed Tod. We’d been living next to each other for years, he was used to my escapades, not to mention he was a drag queen. I’d have to add murder and perhaps an international incident involving royalty to faze Tod.

* * * * *

At eleven o’clock, I jumped the railing back to my house.

Stevie had interrupted our Yahtzee marathon, played nosy neighbor and saw Lee come and go. Somehow, Lee had gone into my house, opened the door with what Stevie said appeared to be a key, and left with the note in his hand.

“Uh-oh, gorgeous hunk is unhappy,” Stevie said.

My stomach lurched.

I decided I’d worry about that later.

While Stevie was still looking out the window, he asked, “Tell me again why you don’t want him in your panties?”

Jeez.

For my evening’s activities, I pulled my hair back at my nape in a ponytail and put on a black turtleneck, black jeans, black cowboy boots and my black belt with the tiny rhinestones in the buckle (because if I was gonna get arrested, I was gonna go in looking good, regardless of my shiner).

I grabbed my bag and keys and jumped the railing again. In an effort to avoid a tail, I made a deal to trade car keys with Stevie and Tod for the night, so I took off in their CR-V.

The whole way, I checked for a tail, spending more time looking in my mirrors than at the road. I was looking for any car that might be following me but looking especially for Lee’s Crossfire, a motorcycle that looked like it was being driven by an unhappy hunk or an SUV. Since nearly every car in Denver was an SUV, I was panicked throughout the drive to Tim’s but I couldn’t see anyone following me.

By the time I turned down Tim’s block, no one was behind me, not for blocks.

I didn’t waste any time. I wanted to be in and out of there as fast as I could. I had no idea what I’d find, but I hoped it would be Rosie hiding in the basement and this whole mess would be over.

I got out of the car and walked right up to the house.

No lights on at Tim’s, no lights on at the neighbors. It was nearing midnight and even though the next day was a Saturday, it seemed like no one was keeping a late night.

I knocked on the door, waited for an answer, listened for any sound at all to come from the house.

Nothing.

“It’s Indy Savage, if Rosie’s in there, I’m just here to help. I swear,” I whispered as loud as I dared.

Still nothing.

I tried the door and it was locked.

I did the same with the backdoor and then I went around the house, trying to look in the windows and checking to see if they’d slide up. I couldn’t see much and every single window was either painted shut or locked.

“Fuck!” I hissed, under my breath, standing next to a window at the east side of the house.

Then something settled on my shoulder.

I gave a little screech and whirled, not knowing who I’d see. It could be Lee, Wilcox’s goons, the shooters, a police officer or Dracula.

Instead, it was Tex standing there with the goggles no longer on the top of his head, but over his eyes.

He put his finger to his lips, then, a scant second later, put his fist through the window.

I stared at the window, then back at Tex, then back at the window.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.