Sam looked around the parking lot to make sure no one was watching. Satisfied, she hissed, “Who is he?”

“His license says his name is Avery Mateo. This,” she said, flipping open the slender folder, “says he works for AT&T. My ass,” she said succinctly. “Well, lookie here.” Slick plucked a small button out of the man’s ear. “He has a license to carry the gun.”

Sam shoved the heavy gun into her purse, but not before she crunched the small listening device under her foot. “Put him in the car. One of you take off your panty hose and tie one of his ankles to one of his wrists. Then you sit on him, Zoe. If he twitches, squash him. Follow me back to my house,” she ordered.

“Oooh, this is soooo exciting,” Kayla said.

“You can’t get away with this,” the man said coldly. “This is kidnapping.”

“Shut up,” Olivia said as she hiked up her skirt and stripped off her panty hose. “I hate people who spy on me and my friends. That means the person is usually up to no good.” Within seconds she had the eavesdropper trussed like a Christmas turkey.

The ride back to Sam’s condo was short. The women parked their cars, then circled their trussed-up trophy. They half dragged and half carried him up the three short steps to the front door and shoved him inside. Huffing and puffing, they followed Sam’s orders to take him out to the small deck off the living room, where they sat him in a chair and tied one arm and one leg to the deck railing, again on Sam’s orders.

The women trooped inside and closed the sliding door. They all moved out of sight into the kitchen, where Slick filled a pitcher with water, a wicked gleam in her eyes. As one, the women understood exactly what she had in mind. They laughed.

“This is way too cool,” the cute little plumber said.

They were into it, there was no doubt about it. They had worked as a team, and that was the main thing, Sam thought, as they trooped behind her and out to the deck.

“You must be thirsty, Avery,” Sam cooed. “Slick, do the honors.”

The trussed-up man knew exactly what was happening. “I’m not thirsty,” he cried.

“Oh, it talks!” Olivia said. “Sure you are. Thirsty, I mean. Now drink, or I’ll pierce your nose.”

The man’s eyebrows shot upward. He took a sip from the twelve-ounce glass of water.

“C’mon, bottoms up,” Olivia insisted, “or we’ll be here all day. Drink it, or I’ll call in a tattoo artist friend of mine to do a nude on your neck…after I pierce your nose. Attaboy. I do love a man who knows when to do what he’s told,” Olivia purred as she poured out a second glass of water.