20. Sydney
CHAPTER 20
SYDNEY
I throw myself at West. It’s not my first time doing it, but he’s better prepared this time. He’s a quick learner.
He doesn’t block me with his arms and knock my hands into strange places; he simply moves them to the side so I can wrap him in a big bear hug. He’s still as rock solid as he was early this morning—thank goodness. He's still as grumpy, but maybe I’m softening him up just a little.
Like the fact that it’s his idea this time for me to go with him.
“Thank you.” How does it feel like we’ve lived several lives together already?
He sighs, still not hugging me back but not making a move to pry me off of him yet. “I’m not making any promises about finding that money. All I’m saying is we need to get out of here and somewhere safe until they arrest those guys. Then I can get rid of you.”
I nod my head and release him. I’m unsure if he gives my arm a friendly pat or if he’s just trying to prevent me from face-planting when I trip on my feet, but his hand rests briefly on my arm, sending a tingle up my spine.
“Oh, stop it. You’ll make me blush with you saying all those nice things about me,” I tease.
He pulls a hard eye roll and plants a hand on my lower back, urging me to start walking. That hand lingers there for a few moments, and it’s a little confusing that I like the feel of it so much. It’s not allowed to fall for your business partners. You have to keep things professional and not think about lingering hands.
“We need to get out of here,” West says as his hand drops away. “This is not how I saw my day going.”
“I could just rent a car or get a taxi,” I suggest, even though it’s not what I want. I don’t want to do this alone. But I also don’t want to be somewhere where I’m not wanted. I want him to want to be a business partner with me. “I know you don’t really want me to come with you.”
He steps alongside me and glances down at me. “Listen. Are you serious about the money?”
I cross my heart.
“And serious about splitting it with me?”
I nod again. Now is not the time to try my skills at persuasive arguing. I’ll let the facts speak for themselves.
We walk past a little path leading to a gazebo near the river. I watch as two kids run in circles inside it while their mom bounces a baby on her hip.
When he stops walking, West pulls my attention back to him and says, “I’ve thought this over. I need the money. You need someone who can keep you alive. We’re in this together, whether we want to be or not.”
What a rousing speech. He took a grand total of two seconds to think about the money. Oh well. It’ll have to do. Besides, despite his grumpiness, I actually feel safe with West. And now I know he’s very money-motivated.
“Lead the way, captain. You just earned yourself a raise to thirteen percent.”
He turns away from me and starts walking down the sidewalk again. “I’m increasing it to fifty-two percent.”
“I don’t think you understand how bargaining works!” I call after him as I hurry to catch up. He has an entirely unfair advantage of long legs and deep-seated rage fueling his steps.
I literally have to run to keep up with him.
“Now, you’re sure that we can’t stay here?”
He glances over his shoulder. “If Fletcher says we need to leave, then we leave.”
I speed up my pace and jog next to him. “But will we head back north?”
“Look at you, getting the hang of your cardinal directions,” he teases.
“Someday, someone will dish back all that sarcasm to you, and you’ll have earned every bit of it.”
“I’d say you’re doing a pretty good job of it right now.” He slows down and puts a hand on my back again, guiding me in front of him so we can walk single file down the sidewalk as we pass a group of pedestrians.
“So, did you find anything good on the file before we left the coffee shop?”
“I found a file labeled missing money .”
“No, you did not,” I laugh. Now he’s full of jokes.
He snorts. “No, really. There’s a file named missing Ricci money .”
“I thought they were supposed to be an organized mafia family! Shouldn’t their computer files have some ridiculous code that we have to crack?”
“I think the only ridiculous part is that there were so many files to sort through. Not every criminal is a genius like in the movies.”
“Then how are they still on the streets?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” West mutters from behind me. “But basically, it comes down to money and corruption. Even dumb criminals can stay out of prison if they pay off the right people to destroy evidence.”
“That seems incredibly unfair,” I say with a growl. My phone rings loudly, and I pull it out of my pocket. “Oh crap.”
It’s my dad.
I glance over at West. “What are the chances you can sound like several women in their late twenties?”
“Slim to none,” he replies with a smirk as he moves closer to me to where his arm is brushing mine.
“Okay, be quiet, then.” I give him the side eye until he gives me a single nod. I hit answer. “Hey, Dad! How’s it going?”
“Great, sweetie. How are you?” His deep voice sounds like home to me.
“I’m doing good. How’s work been?” Divert, divert, divert. It’s sounding off like a siren in my mind. I don’t want to tell Dad anything about what I’m doing.
“Oh, you know. We had a big crowd here for Labor Day weekend, but it’s calmed down to the steady numbers. It’s giving us a chance to do some of those renovations we’ve been trying to get to for a year now.”
My dad and mom own and operate a casino in Las Vegas. Is it the Bellagio? No, but it still has a good reputation and a hot spot on the strip.
“Are you having a good time with the girls? Are you having a relaxing time? Are you staying safe? How are you feeling?” He continues his barrage of questions as West and I walk the final block to the boardwalk. Dad is the sweetest, kindest, most smotheringly protective man, which is precisely why I didn’t tell him where I was going.
“Everything is going great! I’m doing fine, so you don’t have to worry. I can take care of myself. I’m having a great time and enjoying the sights.” I glance up at West, who’s shaking his head. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he is fighting a smile.
By the time we reach the end of the boardwalk, I’ve managed to extricate myself from the phone call without any direct lies. I mean, it’s not my fault he thinks I’m on a girls’ trip…right?
We make our way down the boardwalk as I chat with my dad for another minute before he’s satisfied that I’m okay. He ends the conversation with, “If you need any help getting home, Archer is back and would be happy to come pick you up.”
“Er, thanks, Dad, but I’ll be fine. I’m sure he’s busy. Besides, I don’t have any work lined up until next month. I planned on taking this time off and enjoying the coast.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I just worry about you. So does your mother.”
“Well, I’m worried about you, so turnabout is fair play,” I fire back.
“I’m fine. I’m working on the new indoor pool on the east side of the casino. It’s keeping me busy,” he says as though he doesn’t quite believe it himself.
“Alright, Dad. Well, I love you. I’ve got to go,” I tell him as West and I reach the end of the boardwalk.
“I love you too, sweetie. Be careful.”
I hang up the phone and turn to West, who’s standing at the top of the ramp leading to the floating docks. He folds his arms across his chest and scowls at me. “If you and I are going to be partners…you’re going to have to come clean with me—on everything.”
I plant my hands on my hips and stare right back at him. “Everything? This could be a long talk. How far back do you want me to start this tale? The part where I was two pounds when I was born? Or my first day of kindergarten? I need a timeframe here.”
He gives a short laugh and walks past me. “Better be careful there, Syd. I might be tempted to toss you in the bay.”
In what feels like no time at all, we’re on the boat again, pushing off the dock and making our way back down the river toward the ocean.
“Dang, I should have run to the store and bought some clean clothes,” I say as I flop down on the bench. “I showered, but I’m still wearing dirty clothes.”
“I thought I smelled something bad,” West says as he keeps his eyes on the water.
I take off a tennis shoe and toss it at him. He catches it mid-air.
“Ooooh, you do have quick reflexes. I wondered.”
He shakes his head and marches over to me. I laugh nervously—that type of cackle that lives forever in your mind because it’s so embarrassing.
I shriek when he bends down and grabs my shoe-less foot. He smirks as he practically lifts me upside down to shove my shoe back on.
“Next time you complain about having no clothes, maybe you shouldn’t throw one of your only two shoes at me.”
I can’t breathe I’m laughing so hard, and that slight smirk on his face looks pretty good.
If throwing my stinky shoe did something to put it there, I’ll gladly throw it again.
I scoot back on the bench and straighten my shirt and sweatshirt that rode up in our little adventure.
“If you want some clean clothes, you can lift the bunk. I’ve got some shirts and pants in there,” West says as he sits down next to the wheel again.
“Oooh, thank you.” I’m desperate enough to take him up on it.
“But I’m adding a percent as payment for renting my clothes.”
And, of course, he would charge me for borrowing his clothes. “You’re obnoxious, and I hope you realize that.”
“Then I’m living up to all my life goals,” he calls after me as I go below.
I lift the bunk, and sure enough, there under the bed is a stack of neatly folded clothes. I pull out a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and quickly change. Glancing down, I realize that I look like a toddler trying to wear his dad’s cowboy boots. It’s ridiculous but clean. I’ll take it. It’s not like I dress for the runway regularly. Jeans or yoga pants are the firm foundation of my wardrobe.
There is a stack of books under the bunk, and I see that one of them is a crossword puzzle. I snatch it up and lower the bunk back down.
Kicking my shoes and socks off, I go back up on deck with the sweats falling down with each step I take.
When I reach the deck, the pants are around my knees. I set the book on the bench and pull the pants back up, tying them tightly around my waist.
I glance at West, who’s staring at me with wide eyes. “Maybe if you put both legs in one pant leg, they’ll stay up better.”
“Very funny.” I tie the drawstring into a bow and roll up the legs. “Do you mind if I do your crossword puzzles?” I point to the book on the bench next to my purse.
“Go for it. The previous owner left those books.”
I lie down on my side on the bench and flip open the book to a page listed Things Around the World .
It takes a moment to catch my balance when the boat moves up and down after crossing the bar.
“Did you call Saidy?” West asks, pulling my attention from the book.
“No. I sent a text. And then Fletcher called me.”
“That means they must have some spyware on his phone,” West muses as he preps the sails. He’s raising them now that we’re across the bar.
“Is it easy to put spyware on a phone?” I ask as I watch his forearm muscles put on a little show all their own as he moves rope back and forth.
“Piece of cake.” West twists the rope around a small metal hook and moves on to the next one.
“Can you teach me how to put spyware on a phone?”
He glances back at me, studying me for a moment, then shrugs. “Sure, why not?”
Then he messes with another rope that’s coming loose.
“Do you need help?” I ask as I close the book. “Want me to grab that rope?” I point to the one he’s trying to toss out and straighten.
“It’s a line.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing on a boat is rope. You call it line.”
“Aha, a fancy sailor. Do you want me to grab that line for you, Mr. Grumpypants?” I climb over the edge, hanging onto the wood.
He chuckles darkly. “You haven’t even begun to see grumpy yet. If you fall in, I’ll be grumpy. Don’t make me pull out the life jacket again.”
I hand him the line that he needs, and soon, he’s back at the wheel, and I’m sitting down holding the crossword book again.
“So, exactly how easy is it to spy on someone’s phone?”
“There are only a million apps available to anyone who wants to use them. But the catch is you usually have to have access to the phone.”
“So, someone working with Fletcher is spying on him?”
“Yes, that’s one possibility. It wouldn’t be too surprising.”
I nod. “When the mafia loses so much information, they probably don’t mind paying to keep some things silent—like making sure I can’t say anything to anyone.”
“Where’s the flash drive now?” West asks.
I open my mouth, but no words come out. “I think you threw it in your laptop bag.”
He runs a hand through his messy hair. “I forgot.” He walks to the cabin and pushes the doors open, climbing down the steps. “Keep an eye on things for a minute!” he calls back as he leaves the doors open, sits down on the bunk, and pulls out his laptop.
If I sit right next to the wheel, I can see clearly into the cabin and see what he’s doing. He plugs in the flash drive and begins typing away on the computer.
“Hey!” I call after him. “I thought you said you had to have a good internet connection to crack that.”
West turns his head toward me and smirks. “I do. And I have one on the boat.”
And just like that, he turns back to what he’s doing.
He has internet on the boat ? He heard me complain about no cell connection and no means of communication and didn’t think to tell me he had internet on his freaking boat?
“If you keep frowning, your face will get stuck like that,” he says without turning his attention away from the computer screen.
“What’s the password?” I snap back as I pull out my phone and attempt to connect to his Wi-Fi.
“Bodieisthedevil666.”
“Hmmm, for some reason, I thought you two were friends.”
There’s a strange noise coming from the cabin as I type in the password. It almost sounds like West is choking.
The connection goes through, and I see that I have three new texts. They must have come in while we were on our way up the river.
I read a text from my brother, Mav.
Maverick: Dad said he was going to call you. You better get your story straight .
That warning was a little too late, wasn’t it?
“So if you can figure out what’s in the file…then you’ll help me find it?”
“I’d like to know why you want to find it first,” he shoots back as he’s busy typing away.
It’s all I can do to remain out here. I want to go snoop over his shoulder, but I better stay out here and make sure everything is going fine, and we’re not going to run into an iceberg.
I will not Titanic us.
“Because helllloooo. There’s supposed to be a lot of money there.”
“I don’t think so,” he fires back. “I hate to break it to you, but you don’t seem too focused on money.”
“Are you judging me based on my attire?” I ask sarcastically as I wave a hand at the sweats. “Because I know I’m a fashionista’s dream right now.”
He leans back and folds his arms across his chest and gives me a good view of those arm tattoos. “I want to know why my business partner wants to find this money.”
I shrug and decide that a portion of the truth ought to be enough—at least for now. “This is going to sound weird to you, but the truth is…I’m looking for an adventure. I want to do something different. Challenging. I’ve lived a somewhat sheltered life and have never really done anything on my own like this.”
“Not many people have…” he replies drily.
I’d roll my eyes if it didn’t give me a headache. “What I mean is, I haven’t done any kind of adventure. My life has revolved around staying home and helping with the family business or doing occasional translation work—usually all in Las Vegas, where I’m from.”
He looks at me in amusement and says, “I’m pretty sure living in Las Vegas could be considered an adventure. Maybe you could go home and find what you’re looking for.” He picks up his water bottle and takes a long drink.
Good grief, he’s going to be drunk in ten minutes if he keeps that up. I stand up, glance around to make sure we’re not going to hit something, and flop over to him, the rolled sweatpants coming undone and falling to the ground.
“You don’t understand. I didn’t want to go on a vacation-on-the-beach adventure. I wanted something different. Something no one else has done.” Like try to get revenge on the mafia.
West shakes his head as though he can’t believe his luck, getting stuck with someone like me, and takes another long drink from his water bottle.
That’s it. He can’t just drink his problems away. I duck under the boom and jump down the steps into the cabin.
West’s eyes widen when I reach over and yank the water bottle out of his hands. “That’s enough of that. I need you on your A game this week. I need you to help me.”
I unscrew the lid as he watches me curiously. “Now me, I don’t have to be on my A game.” I wink and flip off the lid. I take a big sip and nearly choke.
I cough, trying to catch my breath before I ask him, “Water? You’re drinking water out of here?”
West doesn’t exactly smile, but he does look amused. “What did you think it was?”
“I assumed you were a highly functioning alcoholic,” I tell him the truth.
“And that I carted it around in an insulated water bottle?” He snorts. “Now I know what kind of kid you were in high school.”
Taking another long drink of the cool fresh water, I nearly laugh. “Here I was, worrying about you and your health.”
“How’s the water taste?” he asks.
“Extra cold.”
“That’s why I have the insulated bottle.” He shrugs, as though that’s all the explanation I need.
“I’m sorry I made assumptions. That wasn’t right of me.” I hand the water bottle back slowly.
West shrugs and pops the lid off again. “It’s not like we don’t all do it. Hell, I’ve made assumptions about you.”
I straighten my shoulders at that. “You have? And what are those?”
“You’re out of your depth.”
I click my tongue. “Now that’s just a fact, not an assumption.”
He smirks and adds, “And you’re far too good-natured for your own good.”
What does he want me to do? Shout and curse at him? I try to keep a scowl on my face. “How’s this? Do I look more cynical now?”
“No. It looks like you’ve been eating limes.”
“Dang, I’ll have to work on a good scowl that can rival yours. It’s an intimidating one. How’d you learn to do that?”
“Lots of years undercover and having a poor poker face.” He sets the water bottle down and begins messing with the laptop again.
I sit down on the steps and rest my elbows on my knees as I watch him. Curiosity has a hold of me now. “How would a poor poker face turn you into a professional scowler?”
“Easy. If you can’t remember who you’re supposed to be or how you’re supposed to react in the moment, you fall back on a scowl. No one questions a frown. Now, surprise, disgust, a smile—those all give something away. But if you have a permanent frown, no one gives it a second thought. They think you’ve just got a bad attitude no matter what.”
“So you’re saying that if I ever get in a position where I need to keep secrets, I should frown?”
“It’s the safest bet.” West doesn’t look at me. “Might save your life someday if you keep being a fool and messing with the mafia.”
“I think I’m a little too far in now. I can’t back out even if I want to,” I reply quietly. Because it’s true.
This is the adventure I wanted, and I got it. Only now, the reality is all too close. If I screw this up, it’s not just hurt pride.
It’s a lost life. My eyes fill up with a little moisture as I ponder the repercussions of my family grieving my loss.
No more arguing with my brothers over cars. No more playing poker with my dad. No more lectures from my mom on travel safety.
“Hey,” West grunts, pulling me from my morose thoughts.
I lift my chin to find him staring at me.
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you, so quit moping.”
He turns back to the laptop and types away. He really should take a class on motivational speaking. It could do him wonders.
But at this point? I’ll take it. He’s the only thing standing between me and a six-foot deep hole in the ground.