Amaretto Amber (Franki Amato Mysteries Book 3) Read Online Free

Amaretto Amber (Franki Amato Mysteries Book 3)
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"Maybe not, but she knew that I went to jail."
    "What?" she exclaimed, hitting the gas so hard that both of our heads snapped backwards. "How?"
    "After I called you and got your voice mail," I began, lowering my eyelids into a cold stare, "the officer agreed to let me try someone else. So, I called Glenda. When I told her where I was, she goes, 'I paid the young man extra for hard time , sugar. Enjoy the strip search,' and hung up the phone."
    Veronica started to laugh but quickly turned the sound into a fake cough. "Well, look on the bright side. The woman whose car you moved dropped the charges. If I were you, I'd pay her a visit and thank her."
    "I'm pretty sure 'that woman,' as you call her, is a witch—in both senses of the word. And because of her, I stood up my boyfriend and spent my birthday in the clink where a six-foot-five woman with a severe skin-peeling condition used my stomach for a pillow."
    She put her hand over her mouth. "Oh my God, really?"
    I nodded, as serious as a death sentence. "And to top it all off, this old prostitute ripped the dollar Glenda gave me right off my shirt."
    Her eyes widened. "What did you do?"
    "Nothing. She was a spitter." I searched my bag for my phone. "Now, I'd better call Bradley."
    "Don't worry, Franki," Veronica said as she hooked a hard left onto South Rampart Street. "I explained everything to him after I got your message this morning."
    I spun around in my seat so fast that my purse flew to the floor, and it wasn't because of that left turn. "You told him I was in jail?"
    "He called me, frantic," she said, waving her hands in the air when she should have been steering. "What was I supposed to tell him?"
    Now I was the frantic one. "Uh, not the truth!"
    Veronica groaned and collapsed onto the steering wheel. "Here we go."
    I glanced around the car. "Where? Off the road?"
    She glared at me and straightened in her seat. "On a wild ride through your trust issues."
    It was a well-known fact that I was kind of cagey where men were concerned. The problem was that I'd kissed more than my share of philandering frogs before meeting my persevering prince. But Veronica was wrong if she thought that I didn't believe in my boyfriend. "I already told you—I trust Bradley. I just haven't always felt the same about some of the people around him, like his snobby ex-wife and scheming ex-secretary."
    "Uh-huh," she said, monotone. "If you trust him so much, then why didn't you want him to know that you spent the night in jail?"
    I snorted in disbelief. "That has nothing to do with trust and everything to do with image. Bradley is a bank president. He needs a suitable woman by his side, e.g., one in a black cocktail dress, not an orange jumpsuit."
    Veronica twisted her mouth to the side. "Are you saying that if you don't present the right image, you're afraid that he'll break up with you?"
    "Not at all." I pulled off my sunglasses so that she could see my piercing look. "I'm saying that I need to be suitable, which I can't be if I'm behind bars. So, there's no way I'm thanking 'that woman' when she's the reason I got locked up in the first place."
    "You're the reason you got locked up," she said, taking another sharp turn. "As an ex-cop, you knew that driving her car without her permission was a felony, so you need to thank her for saving you from a much lengthier stay in jail."
    "All right, sure. I knew it was wrong," I admitted as I checked my seatbelt to make sure that it was securely fastened. "But in my defense, she started this whole fiasco by illegally parking her car."
    "And if you'd simply reported her as opposed to moving the car, then she would've been the one in trouble with the law."
    Of course, I realized that there was a grain of truth in what Veronica was saying—okay, a kernel. But the way I saw it, the woman should have apologized for blocking my Mustang instead of pressing charges and condemning me to spending the night with a skin-slougher.
    I stared out the passenger
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