Free In Love by Design (The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod) by Tracy Ellen Page A

also trusted there wasn’t a more tenacious person out there for the job I had in mind. His guilty conscience would see to that.
    He dropped his hands and blew out a defeated breath. “What am I fixing then?”
    Surprised he hadn’t figured it out immediately, I chuckled humorlessly. “Dickie, you disappoint me again. Isn’t it obvious? I want you to track down the true villain that hired you to leave me here in this terrible way. Then I expect you to fix their little red wagon--permanently.” I went on facetiously, “Short of murder, of course.”
    Dickie nodded and started grinning, my sarcastic insults rolling off his back like water off a duck. Dickie will never be accused of being deep. He appeared genuinely happy to be doing me this service. His clicking heels and sweeping bow confirmed my deduction.
    “ Anerbel, it will be my pleasure to fix this travesty!”
    “ Will it? How perfect since your pleasure means so much to me.” Over his irritating braying, I continued with my instructions. “One last thing, promise you’ll let me know the identity of my enemy when you find out. You can call Bel’s Books with their name. I’d invite you to stop in and say hello, but you’ll probably be too terrorized and not have the balls to show up.”
    Dickie paused in the act of slinging my purse strap over his shoulder. His giggling ended on a confused note again, and was also laced with puzzled apprehension.
    The chubby bum has the nerve to sound hurt when he whined, “Ah Anerbel, come now, don’t be nasty when we’ve reached such a nice agreement! I promise I’ll phone. Is there a particular person I should speak with?”
    “ Yes. Me.”
    Dickie ’s mouth went slack.
    Responding slowly, it was clear he’s humoring the madwoman, “Right then, okay.” He put his hands together in prayer and did a little forward bow this time. “I’ll be sure to do as you’ve asked and give you a bell at Bel’s, Anerbel.”
    He laughed in delight at his idea of wit while I slumped back and ignored him. Having secured my deal with little Lord Fauntleroy, I was ready to be done with him. I was exhausted, hurting, and dirty. The cold air has penetrated my exposed skin or maybe it’s Dickie’s cold black heart, but I was chilled to the marrow.
    I sighed.
     
    “ I don’t know why I’m bothering, it’s probably my new soul, but I want to give you one final chance. You can do the truly honorably thing and help me, or you can leave me now to die. But know this, Dickie; it’s not me that you have to worry about getting nasty. My boyfriend is extremely tough and very cruel. You will be hunted to hell and back, and he will never stop.” The thought of Luke beating the daylights out of the Fixer warmed me up. I expounded on this theme enthusiastically. “You’re going to feel true suffering. He will tear you from limb to limb with his bare hands! He will beat you to a bloody pulp with your own leg and then kick the living crap out of you--just for fun. You’d better be good at fixing things because you are going to need a calculator to add up all the tiny pieces of your mangled, torn up body…”
    “Good Heavens , the violence!” Giggling with a note of mock-hysteria attached, Dickie hugged himself while shuddering. “Girl, I’m always on the pull. Your twin brother was tempting enough, but your boyfriend is making me positively swoon! Into rough trade, is he?”
    I giggled rather hysterically, too, at the mind-boggling concept of my masculine Dark Prince and this fussy, plump princess bride going at it. “Now that you ask, he is, but he’s taken.”
    “Aren’t they always?” Dickie pouted, his cherub lips comically turned down under the pencil mustache.
    “ Anabel, Anabel,” a deep growl admonished from the shadows, “are you telling everyone in the county details of our sex life now? Is that any way for my girlfriend to behave?”
    At the voice coming from behind him in the darkened shadows of the kitchen