Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
To Do:
- Follow-up email to B
- Practice mindfulness
- Quote on LED rentals
“I can’t believe how bad you are at bowling,” Luke teased as they traipsed across the parking lot of Kingpin Bowling Alley.
“Hey!” Claire reached over and shoved him. He bounced off a rusty pickup truck. “I’m good at a lot of things. Sticking my fingers in dirty holes and hurling a ten-pound ball at some pins doesn’t happen to be one of them.”
“But you were like, sensationally bad. That might have been the worst game I’ve ever seen. I think they wanted to put you on the wall.”
“Good thing you got tons of footage of it.” She glared at him. He had barely put his camera down all day, from their trip to Griffith Observatory to Olvera Street to the bowling alley.
“I’m just documenting our trip.”
“Document this.” She flashed her middle finger at him.
He cracked a smile and turned the camera off. “One more stop, then I promise I’ll let you get back to work.”
“All right.” Claire slid into the passenger seat. As nice as this date day had been, Brad’s proposal hovered incessantly in the back of her mind like her own personal black cloud. There was so much to do. She still hadn’t heard back from two of the light vendors and?—
“Shit.” The seatbelt snapped back. She popped the door open and dropped to her knees.
Luke’s face appeared on the other side of the undercarriage. His smile faded. “Get in. I’ll do it.”
“I appreciate you.” She sat back in her seat and took thirty seconds to check her emails. Aha, one of the other vendors had come in lower and said she could pick up the supplies tomorrow. One thing could be crossed off the mile-long checklist.
Luke, apparently satisfied that the car was not boobytrapped, dropped heavily into his seat. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black silk eye mask.
“What’s this for?”
“I don’t want you to see where I’m taking you. I don’t want you to be able to find it alone.”
“Okay,” Claire said slowly. “Are you planning to murder me when we get there?”
It would really suck if Luke had been in ESA all along. The longest of long cons.
“No. But you’ll see.”
As they pulled out of the parking spot, she started the timer on her watch. Just in case. Then she slipped the eye mask over her head. Luke turned some music on. Driving in Los Angeles was even more disorienting when she couldn’t see anything.
She found his leg in the dark. “Hey. I really appreciate you planning all of this. I know you have a lot going on—and let’s be honest, just dating me is a full-time job right now between the security concerns and my stress levels. Thank you for taking me on a date. I’m sorry I’ve been such a stressy nightmare. When this is all over, I’m going to make it up to you.”
He squeezed her hand. “I get it. I’ve been known to get intense about my projects too.”
“Hmm. What is it you do for a living, again?”
Luke booped her on the nose and they fell into silence.
They made a left, then a right, then went straight for at least ten minutes. Finally, they turned left again. The car crunched over gravel. They pulled to a stop. Were they in a parking lot or some rural road where he planned to dispose of her body and go back to his previous life with sex-tape-star Olivia?
Claire clicked the button to turn her stopwatch off and made a mental note of the direction they went when they left the bowling alley. With that information and the time distance, she was certain she could find it again if she had to. Jack would be proud.
“All right,” Luke said. “You can take it off.”
The blindfold slid off. She was immediately assaulted by brightly colored flashing lights.
“Luke. What is this place?”
“This,” he said, sweeping his arm wide, “is food truck central.”
She opened her door and stepped out into the parking lot. There was a hint of sea breeze in the air, and a dozen tantalizing smells were all tangled together. The chipotle spice of a taco blended with the velvety sweetness of an alcoholic whoopee pie. Smothered French fries stood a few stands away. Specialty grilled cheese was to their right. Soft pretzels. Margarita trucks. Dear god, she was in heaven.
She grabbed his wrist. “This is the most beautiful place I have ever seen,” she whispered.
He tucked something in her hand, and she glanced down. She was clutching a handful of crumpled twenty-dollar bills.
“Go.” He pointed to the cluster of trucks.
She didn’t need to be told twice. She ran off without a backward glance.
“So why didn’t you want me to be able to find this place on my own?” She grilled him twenty minutes later at a picnic table covered in food.
“Are you kidding me? If you knew where this was, you would sleepwalk to it every night.”
“You have a point,” she said around a mouthful of pretzel. It was almost as good as the Amish pretzels from the farmers’ market back home. “Thank you for this.”
“For what?”
There was a smudge of mustard on his cheek. She reached over and wiped it off.
“Today. For pulling me out of that meeting and reassuring me that I’m not going to end up a homeless failure.”
He patted her hand. “A failure, maybe. But not a homeless one.”
She glared at him. If this wasn’t the most perfect carnitas taco she’d ever eaten, she definitely would have thrown it in his smug face.
An hour later, Claire groaned as they entered the foyer. “I’m never eating again. And I need to do like two hours of cardio to make up for that.”
“Stay here. I’m going to check the house.”
“There wasn’t anything on the cameras,” she reminded him, but off he went. She sighed and set her purse on the table in the foyer. The dogs, thoroughly exhausted from doggy daycare, immediately flopped on the floor and refused to get up.
Screw it, she was going upstairs. She was sure to have another half dozen emails from Brad. The wooden stairs creaked as she tiptoed up them. She reached the office and opened her laptop. Only three emails from Brad, one from the insurance company asking for clarification on an inventory item, and one from Mindy setting up interviews for their candidates.
Claire dove into her work, answering emails, updating quotes, and streamlining the Proposal Day schedule for the millionth time. An hour later, sixteen different sticky notes had been added to the “follow up” column of her wall. She was in the middle of writing a seventeenth when the doorbell rang.
She jumped away from her desk like it had turned into a snake. Who could it be? Mindy was back in Pennsylvania. Bri was shooting in the desert. Charlie was at one of Ryan’s video game tournaments in San Francisco. She tucked Winston into her arms like a football and backed against the wall.
“I got it. Stay with the dogs,” Luke ordered from downstairs.
Claire pulled her phone out and connected to their video doorbell. It was hard to tell because the figure wore a baseball cap and baggy clothes, but it looked like a woman. If it was Olivia again, she was going to track down a torch and pitchfork.
“Hey, Bri,” Luke said at the front door. “Everything okay?” He stepped back to let her inside.
Claire shut the app and ran down the steps into the foyer. “Hey!” She pulled her half sister into a hug. “I thought you were filming this weekend.”
Brianna shook her head. She looked sullen and glum, not like the technicolor beam of pure sunlight she usually was. “There were dust storms in the desert. It was a bust.”
“What’s wrong?” Claire’s danger senses were tingling.
“I just didn’t want to be alone tonight. Do you think I could stay with you guys?”
“Of course you can,” Luke said. “What happened?”
She pulled a Tupperware container out of her boho handbag and handed it to Claire. “Thank you. I made croissants.”
Brianna was an emotional baker. This couldn’t be good.
“I got a note and some more flowers.” She reached into the pocket of her oversized sweatshirt and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.
“Cancel the film or you’ll be sorry,” Claire read.
“It was shoved underneath my front door. After what happened to your mom and you, I didn’t feel safe being alone.”
“You still don’t have a bodyguard?” Luke asked.
Brianna shook her head. “I did some second interviews, but there’s so many creeps out there. And before you ask, no, I don’t need help. You have enough going on.”
“I’m so sorry.” Claire drew her sister in for another hug and led her to the living room.
“I’m going to open a bottle of wine,” Luke announced and left the room.
“I’m sorry for bothering you. I know you have your own shit going on. I just feel so…helpless.” Brianna flopped onto the couch. Rosie jumped into her lap and licked her earlobes.
Claire’s brain leapt into problem-solving mode. Brianna could move in with her and Luke, they’d turn the dining room into a bedroom, run background checks on the prospective body guards. She opened her mouth to speak, then stopped. All of this was likely to be a major imposition to Luke. She was no longer a single woman forging her own path in this world. They were a team, and she needed to clear it with him first.
“I’ll be right back.”
In the kitchen, Luke drove a corkscrew into a bottle of red.
Claire pulled glasses from the cabinet and sidled up next to him. “I almost impulsively did something, but I thought I should ask you first.”
He raised his eyes. “This is new.”
“I know. I’m trying.” She lowered her voice. “What would you think about Brianna moving in with us? At least until she gets a bodyguard? It’s too dangerous for her to be alone.”
The cork slid out with a pop . Luke poured wine into three glasses. His brows knit together in concentration. “Let’s do it.”
“Really?” She had already made a mental list of half a dozen sexual favors to offer.
“Yes. She’s family.”
Heat crept into her cheeks. She swooped in and kissed him. “Thank you.”
They collected the wineglasses and carried them to the living room.
“So,” Claire said, handing a glass to her sister, “we have a proposition.”
Brianna shook her head. “No.”
Luke frowned. “What do you mean, no?”
She tapped a finger on her glass. “I know what you’re going to offer, and it’s so sweet of you. But I’m not going to bring more danger to your door. They want both of us.” She gestured between herself and Claire. “If I moved in here with you, they would just toss a flashbang through the window and take us both.”
Claire cleared her throat. “I love you, but that logic is bullshit. What’s to stop them from doing that right now? Or any day for that matter?”
Bri pursed her lips. “I really appreciate what you’re trying to do. But when I’m not filming, I need my space. I’ll schedule another round of security interviews tomorrow. I promise.”
Claire huffed. So there was a bit of stubborn old Jack in Brianna after all. She couldn’t very well force her sister to move in with them, especially since they were leaving again in a few weeks. But Brianna was the only one in their family with no live-in partner. Even in her fancy gated community, she was in danger at all times.
“I wish there was something we could do,” Brianna said quietly. “About ESA and everything. I know Dad says they’re working on it, but it really doesn’t feel like progress.”
Claire sat next to her and drew her legs up into her chest. She would leave Brianna’s living situation alone. For now. But she was definitely going to demand hourly proof of life texts. “I’m going to take a wild guess that Jack hasn’t shared the news with you.”
“What news?”
“We kind of broke into an ESA house and found a clue.”
Her eyes came alive. “Tell me everything.”
Claire explained their discovery and pulled up the document where she had compiled information on the conference.
“So I told Jack everything. And all he said was they’re ‘aware’ of the conference. Isn’t that bullshit?”
“I’m sure they’re planning to plant some agents there.” Brianna stared pensively at Rosie, as if the secrets of the universe were wound between the fibers of her double coat.
“It’s not good enough.” Luke set his glass down hard on an end table. The table wobbled.
Claire stared blankly back at him. “What do you mean? The wine? I love an Australian cab.”
He shook his head. “No. The FBI response. I’ve been thinking about it, and I decided I’m going to the convention.”
Brianna and Claire exchanged a glance. Claire’s stomach twisted at the thought of him in danger. Luke had been team “leave it to the FBI” for months. What was with the sudden change of heart?
He stood and bent down to put a hand on the table. It wobbled again. “I’m tired of these assholes messing with people I care about. The FBI hasn’t done anything to protect either one of you, and I’m not going to keep waiting around for them to track them all down. I’m going undercover, and I’m going to that convention.”
Claire shook her head. “No, you’re not. Are you kidding me? They’ll recognize you in an instant, and then they’ll abduct you just to torture me.”
He scoffed. In seconds, he had taken everything off the end table and flipped it upside down. “No, they won’t.”
“Then I’m coming undercover with you,” she blurted.
“No, you’re not,” he said flatly. “No offense, but no one could mistake you for a man.” He glanced at her chest.
“I’m going too,” Brianna proclaimed.
“No, you’re not,” Luke and Claire said in unison.
“You’re too recognizable. Besides, you’ll probably be shooting,” Claire said.
“Shit. Right. Work. Can you at least FaceTime me during? I’m a little offended that I wasn’t included in the Code Purple at the ESA house.” Brianna took a sip from the glass that Luke offered and grimaced. “Sorry, still getting used to dry wines.”
“Yes, of course we will.” Claire looked at Luke, who was examining the legs on the end table. The idea of rubbing elbows with ESA made her nauseated, but she couldn’t put the safety of her family in the FBI’s hands. Claire made steady eye contact with him. She raised her eyebrows.
He sighed. “Go ahead.”
She sprinted off to the upstairs office and returned moments later with a fresh binder. She scrawled “Douchebag Convention” on a piece of paper and slid it behind the cover. “So let’s talk about this plan.”