World's Worst Boyfriend: A Romantic Comedy Adventure (Fake It Book 3), Carina Taylor [ebook reader online txt] 📗

large amount of money was going to transfer hands, and he wanted me to be there to ensure he got it. I’d been there for a few of his other business deals, all of which had been fairly standard black-market sales.

But this, this was an auction. It would be a chance to arrest the buyers as well.

Sullivan was planning on moving a lot of merchandise. Paintings, art and historical artifacts he’d slowly “acquired” that would fetch him a nice price tag. Millions of dollars would exchange hands on the auction night.

“You two have done a great job with this operation. You’ve brought us more evidence than the rest of our officers combined. You ready for another UC job after this?”

I shook my head at the same speed West nodded. The chief looked at me. “You sure? You’ve seemed to find your stride this round.”

The three of us sat at a small table an hour from Sullivan’s place. We didn’t want to risk him seeing us in Riverly. “You know I’m a terrible liar. I can’t keep this up much longer.”

With a grunt, Chuck Maxwell stood up. “Well, you’re great with information. You’ll make an okay detective when this is over.”

With that, he left the back room of the small diner. We’d met him in Burnside, hoping to evade detection. Of course, he’d already had a private room saved where we could talk uninterrupted. Unfortunately, we hadn’t even managed to get lunch while we were there.

West nodded. “You got the promotion.”

“The way he said it made it sound like a demotion. An ‘okay detective’ doesn’t sound promising.”

“From what I’ve heard of detective work, it might be.” He folded his hands behind his head. “I wonder who my next partner will be?”

“You can think about it while we grab lunch.” I stood up and pulled the keys from my pocket. I was tempted to swing by my house and look in on my bike, but I didn’t dare risk it. Our meeting had been so carefully set up today that I couldn’t blow our cover simply because I was worried about my townhouse and my motorcycle.

I still had a house in Burnside where I’d started out as a beat cop and had my first undercover job. Burnside was where I had first become a police officer and gone undercover for the first time. That is, until I applied to transfer to Riverly and began a new undercover operation. I’d kept all of my stuff in Burnside, not wanting anything that would connect me to the beat cop I’d been. Keeping secrets was easier when there were less of them.

“I miss my bike,” I muttered as we stopped at a convenience store at the edge of town to grab lunch. My service van required a three-point turn to fit in the tiny parking space.

“I’ll get you a tricycle,” West promised.

“Actually, I’ll borrow yours and save you the expense.” I put the car in park. “Something greasy to keep you up all night?”

“You see, Fletcher, the problem is, you need an iron stomach like me.”

“I’ll be sure to pick you out an extra green hot dog from the food case.”

I climbed out of the car.

“Make it extra greasy!” West called as I slammed the door.

I mean, I liked some greasy food as much as the next person, but West took it to a whole new level. A painful level. I don’t know if his body had ever seen a raw vegetable.

Shaking my head, I opened the door to the convenience market and stepped inside. The small store was familiar and had a certain homey feel to it.

I’d spent quite a bit of time there when I’d been on an undercover job in a nearby trailer park. That had been my first undercover assignment, and I was miserable the entire time. I’d hated lying, and it turned out that I was really bad at it. Nearly everyone in the trailer park knew I was a cop. That was also a lesson in not doing undercover work in the same town you’ve been a beat cop in.

I carried my loaded basket to the front counter. “Hi, Marni.”

“Hi, Johnny.”

Johnny had been my undercover name when I’d lived in the trailer park. I’d learned some important life lessons when I’d been investigating the supposed gun runner. One of them being that I did not look like a Johnny, and I never remembered that that was my undercover name. In the interest of keeping my cover in the Sullivan investigation, I went by my real first name so that I would always respond.

“How’s life?” I asked Marni.

“It’s good. Dean bought me a ring.” She held up her hand and showcased a camouflage silicone band.

“Wow! That’s…pretty.”

Marni rolled her eyes. “I would have preferred some diamonds. But at least he finally got me something. He says we can get married next year.”

I shook my head. Marni had been my next-door neighbor when I was undercover in the trailer park. Her boyfriend had been promising to propose the whole time I was there. He never did. I was glad he was finally taking some initiative.

“What’re you reading?” I gestured to the magazine Marni rested her hand on while she rang up my lunch with her free hand.

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

She slammed the magazine closed.

“Oh, come on, Marni…you know I won’t make fun of you.”

She shook her head. “It’s just a boring magazine put out by a group of bloggers.”

I rested an index finger on it, and slowly pried it out from under her hand. “How to know if you should quit your job. Home salon tips. Don’t be a Frugal Fran.”

Then my eyes caught on the big title at the bottom. “World’s Worst Boyfriend. Oh boy, that looks like a rough article to read.”

Marni laughed and wildly punched some buttons on the computer. “Your total is seventy-two! I mean twenty-seven…”

She was acting stranger than normal, and I didn’t have to be playing detective to figure that out. I flipped the magazine to the