Part 1 (1/2)

IN DEEP s.h.i.+TAKE.

By Patricia Mason.

Praise for IN DEEP s.h.i.+TAKE.

”A case of mistaken ident.i.ty turns into a fun, fast paced romp ... Once you pick up this great story, you won't be able to put it down.”

- Lois Lavrisa, Amazon Top 100 Author.

Overview.

Take one devastatingly handsome movie star.

Add one outrageously s.e.xy female private eye with a penchant for food-word obscenities.

Mix in a dose of mistaken ident.i.ty and a handful of Russian mobsters...And they're all In Deep s.h.i.+take.

Acclaim for Patricia Mason.

”This book was fantastic...a must read” -- The Romance Studio (about A Girl, A Guy and A Ghost).

”An intriguingly beautiful paranormal romance that will have readers longing for more.” --Night Owl Reviews (about A Girl, A Guy and A Ghost).

”This is a wonderful story and I hope to read more from Ms. Mason and soon!” -- The Pen & Muse (about Sacrifice in Stone).

”What an awesome story!” -- JER Reviews (about Undisclosed Desires).

Chapter One.

A locked car is like a chast.i.ty belt. There may be a way in if you don't have the key, but you can be sure it's going to be painful.

The fortune cookie's advice from long ago flickered through Mo's mind as she contemplated her a.s.signment: break into a certain Mercedes sedan and take note of the information found inside. The car in question was parallel parked on a public street in the historic downtown of Savannah, Georgia. Being locked, the Mercedes' half-open sunroof seemed Mo's only option for entry.

Doesn't look painful, Mo thought. What do those stupid fortune cookies know anyway?

She scanned her surroundings. The antebellum row houses that typified the downtown loomed four stories high on both sides of the street. This was one of the city's most scenic neighborhoods, with its cobblestones and the canopy of trees linking branches overhead.

Mo didn't see anyone around. Ten p.m. on the Tuesday before St. Patrick's Day- a big tourist attraction-was rarely calm. But tonight's stillness was good for her purpose. Only the chigger bugs in the Spanish moss hanging from the live oak trees would see her if she leaned in through the car's sunroof to unlock a door.

After a few more seconds of hesitation, Mo decided to go for it. Failure in her a.s.signment meant termination from the private investigation firm and that wasn't an option she could consider given her current money woes.

The skin-tight, purple dress she wore wasn't exactly conducive to car B&E. The outfit was intended for a honey trap a.s.signment, to catch a client's cheating husband, scheduled for later that night. Nevertheless, Mo toed off her high heels, hiked up her skirt a bit more, and hopped onto the car's hood. Inching through the sunroof face-first, she dropped her purse onto the pa.s.senger seat. When Mo stretched her arm toward the door, she found the power lock switch tantalizingly out of her grasp.

If I just lean in a little more, she thought, I can reach it.

Grabbing the steering wheel, Mo allowed her body to slide inside. But before she closed the necessary distance to the door handle, her body jerked to a stop.

Stuck.

She was wedged, face-first and bottom-up, with her top half trapped inside the car and her lower half draped over its winds.h.i.+eld.

”Son of a poached egg,” Mo muttered.

Her waistband had snagged on some unseen piece of car trim. She twisted her body this way and that, forward and back, causing the skirt part of the dress to bunch into an uncomfortable knot around her belly. Mo's behind, covered only by lacy black panties, lay exposed to the night air.

At least I'm not wearing a thong, she thought, grasping for something to be positive about.

The gunk under her right toe on the winds.h.i.+eld was positive also...positively bug guts.

s.h.i.+take.

As she hung there, Mo's phone pinged a message alert. Her purse had landed on the car seat with its flap open and Mo could see the face of the cell lying atop its contents. A notification of a text from her brother, Leo, with his signature tongue-out smiley-face emoticon taunted her. If only she could reach that cell. Leo would tease her mercilessly about this from now until the end of time, but at least he would help her.

Just then a sound in the distance interrupted her thoughts. A sound dreaded by all women stuck in a sunroof: footsteps.

Ross had just woven his way around a group of tourists waiting to board a ghost tour trolley when the cell phone rang in his pocket. Touching the b.u.t.ton of the Bluetooth device in his ear, he answered, ”Ross Grant,” without breaking his stride down the sidewalk.

”This is your only warning,” a menacing voice said from the other end of the phone.

”Aaron.” Ross gave a husky chuckle, turned left and strode on. ”Quit being such a t.o.s.s.e.r, mate.”

When he reached the end of the block and paused to consider what direction to take, the warm night air carried a slight hint of jasmine scent from the nearby bush. Ross barely noticed his surroundings. He wasn't here to be a tourist or to enjoy the weather.

”I don't know what a t.o.s.s.e.r is. Why don't you insult me in American English? You haven't lived in Britain for ten years,” Aaron replied. ”Besides, I think my thug voice is pretty good.”

”You'll never make it as an actor,” Ross drawled. ”Good thing you're just an agent.”

”Just an agent? That's like saying I'm just a miracle worker.”

Ross chuckled. ”Okay. You're a miracle worker. What miracle have you worked for my career today?” He could use divine intervention to break free of the super spy action hero typecasting he'd been mired in for the last ten years. Forty wasn't old. His career could skyrocket if people would just forget about SpyMatrix.

”I just snagged an offer for you to do a musical,” Aaron said.

”Really?” Ross's eyebrows arched as a thrill of excitement shot through him. Maybe Aaron had earned his fifteen percent this week. A musical would be a huge departure from what he'd been offered lately. ”Broadway? Film?”

”In j.a.pan.”

”Someone wants me to sing on stage in j.a.pan?” Not ideal. But he could work with anything if given a chance.

There was a moment of silence before Aaron said, ”In a j.a.panese commercial.”

Had he just thought he could work with anything? Think again.