Free Cassidy Jones and the Seventh Attendant (Cassidy Jones Adventures, Book Three) by Elise Stokes Page B

under my eye to head off a tear. I had good reason to be emotional, in light of everything going on, but Mickey didn’t know that. Last thing I wanted was to start bawling for no apparent reason.
    “Hold on,” Mickey said, jumping up.
    “Otherwise Emery would have never said anything,” I added as Mickey briskly walked to the table next to the refrigerator. He swiped a napkin and came back.
    “Now that is like Emery,” Mickey remarked, handing me the napkin.
    “Thank you,” I said thickly, dabbing my eyes. He probably thinks I’m a total weirdo.
    “You’re welcome on both accounts.” Mickey sat down and leaned toward me, grinning. “Think Emery’s ears are burning yet?” he asked, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “What do you say we set them on fire? Tell me all about him in high school. I’ve had a hard time wrapping my head around that one.”
    “It’s pretty funny,” I admitted, smiling. “You’d die laughing if you heard him dumbing himself down, using slang. He always sounds strange to me, since I know how he really talks, but he fools everyone else. No one suspects a thing— well, except for maybe one person,” I amended, thinking about Jared. Emery thought Jared was suspicious, anyway. “Emery’s super popular, almost a legend because of what happened at King Pharmaceutical and on Catamount Mountain when he tranked those men who set the tiger loose. He also humbled our school bully, Dixon Pilchowski, by putting him in an elbow lock when Dixon was giving my friend Miriam a bad time. Emery totally won her over. She’s crushing on him big time, like half the girls in school are—” I stopped talking, suddenly remembering who I was talking to. A grown man—who was a bounty hunter, no less. Yeah, like Mickey really wants to hear a bunch of stupid school drama , I thought, blushing.
    “Well, don’t stop now,” Mickey protested. “It was just gettin’ good.”
    I laughed. Mickey was fast becoming one of my favorite people. “Okay, like I was saying, half the girls at school are crushing on him. No one can figure out what he’s doing with me, which has caused me some grief. Before Emery, I basically blended in with the woodwork.”
    “Now you listen here,” Mickey chided, wagging a finger. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re something special, no doubt about that. Emery certainly thinks so. I’ve never seen him so taken with anyone.”
    Before I could respond—not that I had a clue what to say anyway—loud male voices filled the hallway. I figured the elevator doors had just opened.
    “That’d be my bros,” Mickey told me, rolling his eyes.
    Two identical redheaded men burst through the door, talking over one another and dragging a man with them. Marky and Marty, obviously twins, were tall and burly like their big brother, with identical faces full of freckles and enough energy between them to light a building.
    “Rusteeeeee,” Mickey shouted over his brothers, throwing his arms out as if welcoming the man. “Appears we need to go over the rules again.”
    Slack-jawed, Rusty blinked his bulging eyes, as if trying to decipher what Mickey had said. Clearly he didn’t have a lot going on upstairs, but he projected creepiness like a neon sign. “What’d she do?” he demanded, nodding in my direction as one of the O’Shea twins stuck him in a chair.
    “This here is the infamous Little Red Riding Hood,” Mickey replied. “Don’t let that angel face fool you. She’s a big-time carjacker.”
    Marky and Marty howled with laughter.
    “Bull,” Rusty said.
    “Look at her. She’s a carjacker if I ever saw one. Okay, enough lookin’.” Mickey threw a paper cup at Rusty, nailing his forehead.
    “Ow,” Rusty complained, rubbing where the cup had hit him.
    “Always happy to make the acquaintance of a carjacker. Marky O’Shea.” Marky shot his hand at me, grinning.
    I shook it. “Nice to meet you. I’m Cassidy J—”
    “Bssdbssdbssd,” Mickey interrupted, making