Chapter 29
Ace
I can't count how many times I've had to take a step back and remind myself that this isn't a vacation.
I'm here because this woman lost her sister, and we're trying to find out if there's a connection between Sadie's death and her older brother, but that hasn't stopped me from walking around this house as if I'd be welcome here any time over the last couple of days.
"That one, silly boy," Faye says with an easy smile when I try to hand her the wrong thing on purpose.
I laugh when she does and give her the whisk.
"Do you not cook?"
"I eat a lot of fast food," I tell her.
I watch as her eyes drop to my form-fitting shirt, knowing what she sees, and I can't help but smile.
"When I do cook, I usually just grill up some chicken and pan fry brussels sprouts," I explain, "Actually, I eat that probably six times a week."
"You need variety to stay healthy," she snaps, and I know she means it.
She has had a different type of whiskey each night I've been here, sipping it slowly until it's gone at every evening meal.
When Cora told her that the boys were going to be here for dinner today, it was as if she came alive, and she's been shuffling around the kitchen since noon. I feel like a giant asshole, knowing how the evening is going to end.
I stayed behind when they went grocery shopping so I could be here to let the tech team in to put up the cameras. The fact that they always eat their meals in the dining room is great considering that's where it was easiest to hide the tiny cameras.
"Cora, where are you with the diced peppers?"
"Still cutting because you won't let me use the food processor," she grumbles.
"Food made with love is food made with hands," Faye snaps, but there's humor in her voice. "You, boy, grab the oil from the pantry. Cora, I need more mushrooms."
I feel the heat of her right behind me, and I have to wonder what Faye is playing at sending both of us to the pantry when one person could've gotten both items.
Maybe she can feel the electricity between us because despite what was said in that hotel room, I still catch Cora watching me, and I can't manage to keep my eyes off her for very long either.
We've spent the last couple of days circling around each other, content to be in each other's company, but it's been a fight for me. Every hour I've been here I think of a reason to reach out and touch her. If there's a strand of hair that had fallen loose I want to trace it down her face and tuck it behind her ear. If she walks beside me in the garden even though nothing has been planted yet, I want to press my palm to her back. If she's at the sink rinsing her coffee cup in the morning, I want to press my body to hers and wrap my arms around her waist.
It's simple things like wanting to put my head on her shoulder or hold her hand when we're sitting on the sofa talking about life.
I haven't heard her crying, probably because the house is more substantial than the hotel room we were in back in California, but she comes down each morning with red-rimmed eyes as if she now thinks she can't be vulnerable like that in front of me, and it makes me hate that I let things go so far. If I hadn't used that opportunity to take something for myself then maybe she'd let me be her shoulder to cry on. I want to be the one to comfort her. to assure her that I'll be there no matter what, but that would be a lie, wouldn't it?
"She's trying to set us up," Cora whispers as she reaches for several cans of mushrooms on the pantry shelf.
"Is that right?" I ask, finding myself once again incapable of not watching her mouth when she speaks.
"I'm fairly certain. She's ridiculous, and way too obvious about it."
I wish I were better at this. I'm not an idiot. I know what flirting is. I know what it takes to get a woman in bed, but I haven't exactly flexed many skills in my life that get her in bed and keep her around after.
"I think she's hilarious," I tell her, grabbing the oil from a different shelf before heading back out of the pantry.
"Of course, you do," she mutters, following me out.
"You found it that quickly?" Faye asks, a disappointed look on her face, making me realize that maybe Cora was right about her intentions.
I look back at the woman I can't get off my mind to see if she's smiling also, but she has gone back to cutting bell peppers, with nothing but a look of concentration on her face.
We haven't touched since that night in the hotel, but she did confess to me how hard today is going to be. She wants to shelter her brothers from the news about Sadie, and she feels manipulative going about it this way. I know deep down she doesn't think William had anything to do with hiring the hit, and that may be the case, but it was someone close to her. With Sadie having spent years away from the family, there could be others in her life.
The girl, although wild and troubled, still had very influential friends. It seems money breeds those who want to fight against familial expectations regularly and those outcasts tend to stick together.
Sadie very easily could've gotten herself into some trouble trying to blackmail someone she was close to because of her need to feed her addiction and they weren't going to take it, but we have to eliminate every avenue. I also hate that it may come at the expense of this family being suspected because William is too good at handling his emotions.
We work around each other for another hour, preparing food, talking, and laughing, although Cora is quieter than Faye and me. I watch Faye cook, having to switch hands often because of visible pain she's suffering. That combined with how much trouble she seems to have walking, makes me wonder just how much time she has left, and it makes my heart ache knowing that Cora will have yet another loss much too soon.
Before long, the meal is complete and William and Chris show up within five minutes of the planned time, making it very clear, at least to me, that they're here for a meal and that's it. They didn't arrive early to chat and visit, and William looked down at his watch the second he stepped inside as if verifying that he had a pre-planned amount of time he could stay before leaving again.
It doesn't seem like Cora noticed, but I did and it irks the shit out of me. She deserves more respect from the ones she loves.
"Agent Yarrow," William says when he notices me. "I have to say I didn't expect to see you here."
I walk toward the man, holding out my hand, knowing he doesn't want to shake it but his manners won't allow him to reject it the way Faye did when I first met her.
"Good to see you again, Mr. Preston."
We shake hands as Chris walks closer. "Agent?"
I offer my hand to him as well. "Eddie Yarrow. I work for ICE."
I'm not here in that official capacity honestly, but he doesn't know that.
"He's here going through Sadie's things, trying to see if he can flesh out where she might've gone," Cora says as she carries the salad bowl to the dining room table. "Dinner is ready. We can sit down and eat."
"I'm starving," Chris says with a quick easy smile as he rubs his flat stomach. "It smells delicious."
"It's your favorite," Cora says to her little brother. "Stuffed bell peppers."
"With added mushrooms?" Chris asks with a wide, hopeful smile.
"Of course," Cora answers.
"One of these days maybe a family meal will include one of my favorites," William says, also smiling but I can see the hint of annoyance behind his eyes as he looks at his little brother.
I can easily see the irritation coming from him, and I have to wonder if it's more than just him thinking the youngest in the family gets everything he wants or if he has a true problem with Chris.
The younger Preston all but drools over the food as he sits down. William pulls out the chair for Faye, and I do the same for Cora.
"Tell me more about being an agent for ICE," Chris says, reaching for the dish with the stuffed peppers in it.
"Not much to tell," I say, wishing we could talk about anything else but the case.
I know just the mention of it is taxing on Cora, and she's having a hard enough time holding it together.
"It's all about illegal immigrants, right?"
I shake my head. "There are a lot of assumptions about ICE because of what's sensationalized on the news, but there's a lot more to it. We prevent the transport of all sorts of illegal goods across the borders, and do our best to shut down the systems in place that are getting them into the US. "
"That's a very diplomatic explanation," Chris says with a chuckle. "I took a class last semester that dove a little deeper into the drug industry. I learned they're cutting their drugs with fentanyl."
"That's true. Border agents are having to use specialized equipment just to search for and test drugs that they find," I answer.
"That sounds cool," Chris says, around a bite of food. "Maybe I should work for ICE."
William scoffs, but Chris ignores him.
"Think you could write me a letter of recommendation?"
I give the eager young man a smile. "I could probably do that."
The conversation continues, and the longer we sit, eat, and chat, the more concerned I grow because my phone isn't ringing, and I want to choke Mike when instead of a call, the front doorbell rings. I know before William stands to answer it that plans were changed without either Cora or me being informed.