Ms America And the Villainy in Vegas (Beauty Queen Mysteries No. 2)
“My hips, thighs, and butt are in revolt. Every fiber of my being screams for cryotherapy.
I scrawl Jason a note, pull on the tracksuit I grabbed from my room the prior night—over my mother’s objections to my sleeping with my husband—and hobble downstairs hoping Frank is at the spa and willing to take pity on me.
It’s so early the place is deserted, but Frank is present and accounted for. “I’m a desperate woman,” I tell him.
He does not look happy to see me. “You know I’m not supposed to crank that thing up just for you.”
“I know. It’s too expensive. Oh, well.” I’m about to turn away when he speaks up again.
“You told that detective about me taking cash from Danny. She put me through another one of her interrogations yesterday.”
“She didn’t arrest you, though, did she? That’s a step in the right direction.”
“If you say so.” He eyes me then heads for the cryogenic chamber. “Why I’m doing you a favor is beyond me.”
I follow him, delighted.
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