Fast and Loose (Men of the Sisterhood #4) - Fern Michaels Page 0,3

the part of a customer, stopping here and there to drop a coin in the slots or to stand and watch someone else waste their money. Ten minutes later, after winning thirty-seven dollars, he made his way to the men’s room and entered a stall. Now he was off-limits to Philonias, who cursed ripely. Within fifteen minutes, Kelly was back on the main floor. He dropped another coin in one of the slot machines and was about to walk away when it pinged and clattered to life. He’d won another seventy-three dollars. He cashed in, settled his baseball cap more firmly on his head, and made his way to the nearest exit. From there he returned to Babylon, checked with his assistant that all was well, and retired to his apartment. Actually, Bert’s apartment, which he was using until Bert’s return.

“Crap!” The single word flew out of Philonias’s mouth like a gunshot. He worked his neck muscles and settled down to what he knew was going to be an even longer day at the keyboard than he had originally thought. He’d had days like this before, and he welcomed the challenge. After all, he had all the time in the world to figure out what was going on.

And he would figure it out. He always did.

Chapter 1

Jack Emery, Cyrus on his heels, walked aimlessly from room to room in the old farmhouse that he and Nikki had recently purchased from Judge Cornelia Easter. Nikki, along with the other girls, had been gone only two days on a special project for Interpol that was so NTK, she wasn’t even able to tell Jack where she was going, much less why. All she could tell him was that she and the sisters would be gone for at least a month, possibly longer.

Jack looked down at the massive German shepherd, which, in his opinion, was more human than animal, and said, “A month, maybe longer! Do you have any idea how long that is, Cyrus? It means you have to make your bed probably forty-five times. With our luck, it will turn out to be two months. We have to cook for ourselves, clean, do laundry, plant the garden, go to the office to check on things, and try not to be lonely. It sucks! I don’t mean that Nikki did all that stuff. We share everything, you know that. Here’s the straight skinny. I’m pissed that Nik wouldn’t tell me anything. I’m her husband, for God’s sake. Like, who am I going to tell? If you can’t trust your spouse, who can you trust?”

He dropped to his knees and cupped the big dog’s head in his hands until they were eyeball-to-eyeball. Jack was so close that he could feel the dog’s warm breath on his cheek. Cyrus whined until Jack hugged him and whispered, “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to survive. We did the last time Nik and the girls went away.”

This time, Cyrus reared up and let loose a shrill bark, which Jack took to mean that Cyrus was in agreement.

“Okay then. I say we head into town and hang out at the BOLO Building and get caught up on our paperwork. We can always plant those flowers when we get back. The weatherman said it might rain later this evening, so that will work. While I get my stuff ready, it’s your job to fold the towels, so get cracking, pal. And . . . get your gear ready. Two things, Cyrus, and not your security blanket.”

Jack grinned to himself as he watched Cyrus head to the laundry room, where he slapped one massive paw on the dryer door, stood back, then nudged it all the way open. Then he dragged the four towels out onto the floor. He barked once, a shrill sound, to let Jack know he’d done his chore before he trotted off to the family room, to his basket of treasures. Jack quickly folded the four bath towels and set them on top of the dryer.

A year into ownership of the big shepherd, Nikki had heard that a dog whisperer was in town, and she wanted to take Cyrus because she thought he was acting depressed. Jack had gone along with her and had watched, absolutely amazed, as man and dog seemed to communicate with each other. The end result was that, according to the dog whisperer, Cyrus was depressed because he had no duties to perform and didn’t feel worthwhile. “He needs a