Page 179 of A Lick and A Promise
But I’d take it.
I was running five minutes late to meet the girls at the storage units.
Fortunately, Raye texted to say she was running ten minutes late.
Since I was her ride, I told her, to shave off some time I’d fire up the Prius and meet her outside the gate.
Therefore, wearing my fabulous emerald-green, satin-strapped, spike-heeled sandals that were only a smidge off the color of the green of the leaves of the big orange flower on my one-shoulder-bared/one-arm-flowy dress, and after a cuddle with Jacques, I hustled to my car.
I unplugged it from the juicer, put the nozzle back in its holder, and was heading to the driver’s side door when I heard a woman call, “Luna Nelson?”
I looked beyond the carport to the lot next door.
And yep.
There stood a woman, late forties or a very well-preserved somewhere-in-her-fifties. She was illuminated by the lights of our parking lot, and the one next door.
She had blonde hair with a hint of red. It was thick. Brushed her shoulders in a style that suited her. She was wearing nice jeans, high-heeled pumps, a white T-shirt with a plaid blazer over it that had a feminine cut and was rad.
She was also staring at me and not moving.
Further, she knew my name.
My cute, black clutch didn’t hold a Taser, so I wasn’t carrying one (though, I also wasn’t carrying one because I thought Dimitri would frown on us coming in packing, even packing Tasers).
But now I wished I was because this was giving me very bad feelings.
“Can I help you?” I queried.
She took a step forward, but stopped again, beyond the carport, still on the property next door.
A chill ran down my spine because that was out of the line of any angle of the cameras trained on the Oasis Square parking lot.
In other words…off the grid for the boys in the control room at NI&S to see what was happening.
“I’m Cynthia,” she said.
I edged back and put my hand to the handle of the car door.
“Cynthia Chambers,” she added a word.
I went statue-still.
“Knox’s mom,” she finished.
A huge-ass, angry crack formed in my statue.
“You’re Knox’s mother?” I pushed out between stiff lips.
“Are you meeting him?” she indicated me with an upward sweep of her arm. “I mean, you’re wearing that pretty dress.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Chambers, but that’s none of your business.”
“You’re back together though, yes?”
Oh my God.
What did she know about Knox and me?
