The Reed Security Relationship Manual: A Reed Security Romance, Giulia Lagomarsino [acx book reading .txt] 📗

on this, I’m going to have to go to the police and report what you’ve done. Then it’s going to get messy…Well, no one wants to sleep next to a man that snores…okay, we’re coming out, but we have weapons on us. Please don’t shoot, or we’ll be forced to return fire.”

She hung up and handed me the phone.

“That’s how you handle it? Men suck is your message to her?”

“I was sympathizing with her. If I had called her an idiot, do you think we’d be about to walk through that door?”

Florrie flung her door open, but Milo shook his head. “You expect me to go in there? After she shot me?”

I chuckled. “Milo, you have to learn, sometimes getting shot is a sign of love.”

“In what world?”

I glanced at Rocco, wondering if this was a trick question. “Well, definitely in ours. I mean, it’s better than a lot of other things that could happen.”

“Like what?” Milo asked sarcastically. “Name one.”

“Well, she could leave you,” Rocco said.

“She could give you the silent treatment.”

“Whoa,” he stopped me. “What’s the silent treatment?”

“Oh, that’s when they’re really pissed at you, so they just refuse to speak to you.”

“That happens?” His eyebrows shot up. “I don’t get the silent treatment. I get the speaking treatment. She just won’t shut up.”

I winced. “Yeah, that might be worse. Anyway,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder, forgetting about his tiny, little wound, “let’s get this over with.”

We all stepped out, Milo cowering behind us as we walked up to the house. When we rang the doorbell, a woman answered, a scowl on her face.

“Mrs. Caselli?” Rocco asked.

“Yeah. Who are you?”

“I’m Rocco. This is Craig and Florrie, and of course, you know your husband.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“We’re just asking for a few minutes of your time. Perhaps we can solve the issues now instead of involving an assassin.”

“And not a very good one at that,” I muttered.

“How would you know?”

“Well, he’s had three attempts on your husband’s life and he’s still alive. I would say you’re not getting your money’s worth. Now, if you don’t change your mind, and you still want to go through with this, I could put you in contact with someone that will do the job right.”

“Hey!” Milo said from behind me.

I turned and stared him down. “Do you want a bullet to the head or ten all over your body?”

The woman eyed us warily. “And you’re sure he’s better?”

I nodded. “Oh, he’s the best.” I shoved my shirt to the side, showing off my bullet wound. “That’s courtesy of him.”

“You’re not dead,” she pointed out.

“Well, that wasn’t the point. See, I was trying to prove my undying love to my girl. This was just proof. His aim is spectacular, and you should see what he can do with a knife—”

Rocco elbowed me. “We’re trying to avoid bloodshed,” he muttered.

“Oh, right, well, we should definitely talk this out. See, we think what’s going on here is that your husband isn’t truly listening to what you need. See, when I was in counseling with my partners, we really learned to listen to each other.”

“Your partners?”

“Florrie and Alec. They were in love with each other for years, but Florrie wouldn’t admit it. We ended up in therapy together, and then this therapist suggested we try some exercises together, like the three of us. We’re totally not into that,” I emphasized. “But the therapist—“

Florrie’s hand covered my mouth and she smiled at the woman. “I’m Florrie. Don’t listen to him. He rambles nonsensically like all men.”

“Ah,” the woman nodded. “Well, you might as well come in. I just have to put a pause on the hit. I don’t want to be shot up in my own house.”

She walked away as we entered the foyer and Milo leaned over to whisper, “See? Psycho.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t go throwing around terms like that. They’re mean and hurtful. Chances are, she just needs you to really listen to her.”

“Since when did you become a therapist?” Rocco asked.

I shrugged. “After therapy with Florrie and Alec, and then learning from my mistakes with Reese, I’ve just learned the language of love.”

“Christ, you sound like Sinner now,” Rocco muttered.

We walked into the living room and I took the opportunity to look around. It was neat and orderly, and not a single thing about Milo still showed in here. That wasn’t a good thing. When she walked back in the room, my hope died just a little that we could help this guy.

“So, you wanted to talk. You seem to think that this can all be worked out somehow.”

“Well, we think maybe he’s just not understanding what the problem is,” I said, taking a seat across from her. “Maybe if he knew the problems, he wouldn’t piss you off so much.”

She pursed her lips at me. “Like when I ask him not to run over the cord of the vacuum, but he does it anyway?”

“Hey, I told you I’m not good at vacuuming!” Milo cut in. “And the cord is so long.”

“The cord is long?” she snapped. “That’s why you can’t figure out how to pick it up?”

I chuckled nervously. “It just takes some of us longer to learn than others.”

“I’ve been through ten vacuums in the last five years. At first, I just replaced the cord, but eventually, I got tired of taking them in, so I would buy a new one.”

“See?” Milo grinned. “It was like you were getting new presents all the time. That’s a good thing!”

His wife turned her head slowly toward him, her death ray eyes boring into him. “Two vacuums a year isn’t what I would consider a good present.”

I turned and glared at the idiot. “Right, well…what else?”

“Instead of taking out the garbage and putting it in the trash can, he throws it down the steps, and the next morning, animals have torn the bags apart. Then I have to pick up all the garbage.”

Damn, this guy wasn’t leaving us much to work with. Still,