Chapter 20 #3
“Mine, too.” She lowers her eyes to the pavement again and we walk for a minute without speaking. “I think I still like you after I know your secrets. Not sure if youz like me after you know mine.”
“Bumble baby.” I reel her in tightly against my side. “No matter what secrets you have, I already know you’re a very good person. I promise you that I’ll like you—more than like you, Cynnie—no matter what you tell me.”
The deep eyes lift to mine again. “No matter what?”
I kiss the tip of her nose. “No matter what.”
More than her lips smile. This smile beams from her whole body, and I know I’ve gotten it right with my little again.
When I get back from walking Cynnie to the train the next morning, I find De Leon sitting on my couch.
I growl at him.
“Text me before you breach my security.”
De Leon grins as he holds out a steaming cup of coffee.
“First, your meat security ain’t bad. Took me nearly the entire time you were walking your girl to the underground to break in without tripping your alarm. Get a dog and no one’ll touch you.”
“No pets in the building,” I tell him.
Yes, I own the building and could flout the rules, but I like to lead by example. And replacing the carpets between every tenant in case the next one has allergies is a pain in my ass, so no pets.
“Second, look at you, finding your balls.”
I glare at him over the rim of my coffee cup. “I thought I wasn’t going to see you until tomorrow.”
De Leon lifts one shoulder. “I like to be unpredictable. Throws the fuckers off. I trailed you all day yesterday. Did you see me?”
“No, but I thought I felt eyes on me walking down East Nineth.”
“Good instincts. Listen to them. You feel like you got eyes on you, tell me. You shed me when you got fro-yo or whatever the fuck you were eating. Did you do that on purpose, waiting in the shop long enough to spot a tail?”
I shake my head.
“You’re a natural, then. Probably all those years in the field.
You feel like you got a tail, duck into somewhere with a window and watch the street for twenty minutes.
You did it just right. I couldn’t stay where I was without you noticing me.
By the time I circled back, you were gone.
That’s just the way to do it. But I picked you up again walking back. Vary your route.”
I grit my teeth but nod. He’s the expert. I’d be a fool to ignore his advice. “Got it. Anything else.”
“Mmm.” De Leon picks up a black bag at his feet. “Let’s try this on.”
“Body armour?”
“Yep. Your stalkers use armour-piercing rounds?”
“Not on American soil.”
Not after Georgios ended up in a Californian jail for using presumed “cop killing” rounds.
“Good,” De Leon says. He takes what looks like a sweatshirt out of the bag. When he hands it to me, it’s heavy but not so heavy I’d immediately guess it was armoured.
I shrug it on and zip up the front.
“Try it with the hood up.”
I pull the hood up and feel pressure on the top of my head. It’s no worse than wearing a helmet.
“Feel good?”
“Surprisingly, yes. Where’d you get this? It can’t be standard issue.”
“Nah. That’s a prototype. Special forces have it, but no one else yet. That hoodie’s worth more than most cars, so don’t lose it.”
I grimace at him. “I’ll try not to.”
“All right, then. You got your bags packed?”
“No. We’re not leaving until tomorrow.”
“Go pack. We’re leaving now.”
I grit my teeth. “You fucking told me you’d text me a time—which you haven’t done—and we’d leave on Tuesday.”
De Leon nods without expression. “You know how many times you’ve had drone flybys in the last twenty-four hours?”
“I feel sure you’re about to tell me.”
“Twenty-four. One an hour, Max. They’re going to move on you. If not today, soon. So, we’re outta here. Fucking pack.”
The sooner we go, the sooner I get this ass-wipe out of my life. “Okay, I’m packing. Give me an hour.”
“Twenty minutes. I’ve got a car coming for us to take us to the airstrip.”
I don’t bother arguing with him. It’s going to take me every minute just to pack my electronics and power down my rig safely. As I head upstairs, I pull out my phone and start texting.
Tyrone’s the one I’m most worried about. I rarely have any warning of a crisis with him. I’ve been pondering backup since I told Logan I was going to England for him. It’s ended up coming from an unlikely source.
My timetable’s moved up unexpectedly. I’m leaving today. Are you still okay to cover Ty?
She texts me back before I’ve thrown the first shirt into my duffel.
Brenna: 100%, Daddy Max. Safe travels.
Relief washes through the irritation I’m still feeling over De Leon’s assholism.
Thanks so much.
Brenna: My pleasure. He’s a good kid.
He is. And he deserves better than he’s gotten so far. He deserves an Uncle Max who makes sure he’s okay even when I’m out of town. It lifts a little of the weight on me to know I have someone as rock-solid as Brenna to back me.
I flip over to my messages with Logan and Manny and fire off texts to let them know I’m leaving today. Last, I call Cynnie. I don’t want a text to be the last she hears from me. Unfortunately, she’s still on the train and it goes to voicemail.
“Baby, things have moved up. I’m leaving now.
There’s no problem. I’m fine. I don’t want you to worry.
I’m just sorry we won’t get to spend tonight together like we’d planned.
I’ll call you as soon as I get where I’m going.
I want some phone sex, bumble baby, so be ready.
And I want to read you a bedtime story tonight, too.
I—” I stumble, not quite ready to say it.
“I miss you already, Cynnie. Can’t wait until you’re in my arms again. ”
I hang up, feeling my cheeks heat at what I didn’t say, before I tuck my phone away.
I’m back in my living room with two duffels, my rig powered down, security up, twenty-three minutes later. De Leon’s sipping another cup of coffee. He doesn’t look ruffled even though we’re slightly behind schedule. Mac wouldn’t tolerate it. De Leon just nods, stands, and collects his own bags.
It occurs to me that I’m still wearing his expensive hoodie. In my icebox of an apartment, its comfortable. Out in the September heat, it’s not going to be.
I tug at the front of the sweatshirt. “Should I—?”
“Keep it on. Car’s armored, but you can never be too sure.”
“What about you? If they come for me, they’re going to try to take you out. Not me. Shouldn’t you be wearing this?”
He lifts the bottom edge of his T-shirt. With that one gesture, I can see how heavy the fabric is.
“Okay, you’ve got your own,” I say.
“Sure do. I fully anticipate a hit, Max. Don’t think I’m unprepared. I’m not. I’m ready. You told everyone you need to tell that you’re going? Three minutes until the car gets here. You got a little time.”
I glare at him. “You told me twenty minutes.”
His white teeth flash between his moustache and beard. “I always build in a window. Never gonna tell you how much, but always know there’s a cushion. I never work to the wire if I can help it.”
To be fair, neither do I. I totally understand his reasoning in doing both—building the cushion and not telling anyone how much leeway there is—it’s just irritating to have the tables turned on me.
“No, I’m good.”
He nods. “Heard what you said to your girl. Been together long?”
“None of your business.”
He nods again. “She like Emily?”
“Also, none of your business.”
He shrugs, apparently unoffended. He shoulders his bags and leads me out of my apartment.
I lock up behind him and double-check the security settings on my phone before following him downstairs to the waiting car.
The windows are all blacked out, which I’m sure is illegal in New York, so I can’t see the driver, and when we slide into the back seat, there’s a partition like in a taxicab, only solidly black.
“Who is driving?” I ask De Leon as he slides in next to me.
He arranges the bags on the seat across from us. They’re orderly, but there’s too much space between his bags and mine to be symmetrical. My OCD twitches.
“None of your business,” he responds, flashing me another smile. “Let’s just say it’s an old friend who knows where I keep my plane and won’t tell anyone even if they torture him.”
“Cool.”
De Leon settles himself in the comfortable seat.
He doesn’t put on a seat belt; I understand why.
If he needs to get out in a hurry, it saves critical seconds.
But I know from the police report on Logan’s parents’ car crash that his father would still be alive if he’d been wearing a seat belt.
Not that I’ve ever shared that with Logan.
He took their deaths hard enough as it was. Still, I clip myself in.
“About two hours to my plane,” De Leon says. “Settle in. And tell me what’s so special about these girls.”
I play dumb. “Emily and Cynnie? There’s nothing special about them. They’re both just very sweet girls.”
De Leon snorts. “You really think I’m that dumb?
I’ve scoped out Logan’s club. Couldn’t get inside because Logan has that place locked up tighter than a fucking walnut, but I saw who was coming and going.
The pizza place was easier. Barely any security there.
The upstairs room gets turned into some kinda nursery—”
“Fuck. Off.” I growl at him.
He sits back, rubbing his palms over his thighs. “There are those balls again.”
“You told me to be professional and I have been. Let’s keep it at that.”
He shrugs. “We’re going to be spending a lot of time together over the next however many days, Max. I know you don’t like me, so I figured I’d ask about something you care about. That’s all. You don’t want to talk about it, we won’t.”
“I don’t much want to talk at all,” I tell him, pulling my laptop out of my bag and firing it up.
He shifts slightly and looks out the window. “We can do that, too.”