Chapter 13
Luke
Something changes over the next week or so.
Hazel and I still pick at each other, and I still get off on annoying her. She still pretends she can’t stand me, but I know the truth.
We’re nuts about each other. We can’t get enough of one another. We share inside jokes and unspoken plans for a future together. We’re madly in love and expecting twin girls. Could life get better than this?
“Dammit, I thought I had whipped cream.” Lucy scowls at the fridge. “I meant to stop by the store last night.”
Harper pipes up from the dining room table. “When Mom swears it makes me download pirated books.”
“Harper Ann—”
“I’ll go.” Noah stands up and shoots me a pointed look. “You help.”
“You need assistance carrying the can?” I glare when he kicks me under the table. “Fine.”
Hazel dabs her mouth with a napkin as I get to my feet. “You’re not concerned about the optics of two men buying only a can of whipped cream together?”
Noah answers for both of us. “No, because I’m not a homophobic asshole.” He shoots me a look like he wants to make sure I’m not one.
Shrugging, I stoop down and kiss Hazel’s temple. “We’ll buy batteries and motor oil, too.”
“Good plan,” she says, shifting her weight in the chair.
“Don’t have any babies while I’m gone.”
“I’ll do my best not to.”
Nodding to Lucy, I follow Noah to the front door. “Dinner was delicious,” I call to our hostess. “We’ll be right back.”
“Thanks, guys.” Lucy slams the fridge door shut. “It’s nice having my helpful brother in town for such an unexpectedly long stretch this time.”
Bickering breaks out behind us as Kaleb and Mason and Jake argue amongst themselves over who’s truly the most helpful brother.
Parker’s not here to defend himself, having gone back to Alaska already.
His wedding to Calliope is slated for fall, and their baby boy is due later this month.
Jake and Cassidy aren’t far behind, with their little girl arriving in May.
I follow Noah to his truck, tugging my hood up to counter the rain coming down in big buckets. He waits until I’m buckled in to pull out of the driveway. I hold my tongue waiting, knowing there’s no way he’s this passionate about whipped cream.
“Got a job for you.”
I figured. “Can’t.”
“This one’s different.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I mutter. “I’m done with that stuff. No more working with criminals, no matter how well it pays.”
“This is my cousin’s rule?”
“This is my rule. I’m not doing anything that risks my relationship with Hazel or our daughters.”
“We want the same thing.” He sounds thoughtful. “You think I’d do something to jeopardize that?”
“I think you operate on the morally gray side of the law.” That’s about the only thing I’m sure of. “Beyond that, I have no idea.”
Noah falls silent for a moment. “Would it change anything if I told you the man you’d be talking to is someone you already know?”
“No.” Though it does pique my curiosity. “Who?”
“Enzo Rodrigues Silva.”
The name hits my chest like a wet bag of sand. “Enzo?”
“Yes.”
Holy shit. My old cellmate Enzo. The buddy who taught me Portuguese. The guy with the sweet Brazilian mother who sent letters each week and said prayers for her baby in jail. “You’re serious right now.”
“Dead.”
“Enzo’s still locked up?” I could’ve sworn he was scheduled for release last year.
“His sentence was extended,” Noah says carefully. “He’s at a minimum-security prison camp facility near Joyner, but he’s still behind bars.”
“Huh.” That’s a puzzle. “Why the extended sentence?”
“A physical conflict that wasn’t his fault.”
That’s vague. “Was he hurt?”
“No.”
I don’t bother asking if the other guy was. Enzo’s six-five and two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle. If he got in a fight, there’s a good chance the other guy didn’t fare well. “What else can you tell me?”
“Enough for you to complete the assignment. You’ll visit the minimum-security prison camp near Joyner. You’ll be given a script, as usual.”
That doesn’t answer the question. The script is standard, and so is the lack of detail beyond that. “Is Enzo in trouble?”
“No.”
“Is Enzo in witness protection?”
“No.”
“Is Enzo—”
“How about you stop saying his name?” He hits his blinker to turn into the grocery store parking lot. “I trust you’re not wearing a wire, and I’ve already scanned the truck for bugs, but I don’t like taking chances.”
Jesus Christ. I never even saw him check for listening devices. What a way to live. “There’s really nothing more you can tell me right now?”
“Only this.” He doesn’t speak as he eases us into a parking spot. Killing the engine, he turns in his seat and swivels those icy blue eyes toward me. “If you take this assignment, the people I work for would be very grateful. Extremely grateful.”
“Okay.” The money is nice, but that’s nothing new. “How much are we talking?”
He names a figure that would otherwise boggle my mind. “And a bonus,” he adds, “if Enzo agrees to be part of our program.”
“Program?” It’s a rare clue that these tasks I’ve been doing for Noah are part of something much bigger. “What sort of—?”
“No.” There’s another long pause. “As I was saying, my employers have resources most people can only dream of. Not just monetary resources. The ability to find people.”
The back of my neck starts to tingle. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” he says, “that I understand you’ve been looking for someone.”
The breath leaves my lungs.
My father.
He means my father. “I—”
“There’s no guarantee they could locate your dad,” he says. “I need to be clear about that up front. This isn’t a case where they already have the information you’re looking for and they’re withholding it as some sort of blackmail or bribe. That’s not what this is about.”
“What is it about?” My mind won’t stop spinning, my thoughts rolling over each other like rocks in a tumbler.
“It’s simple,” Noah says. “You have a brief conversation with your old friend Mr. Silva. You’re even permitted to improvise beyond the script. To catch up with your pal, just like you might if you paid him a regular visit.”
My heart hits the walls of my chest. “I’m listening.”
“You’ll be paid for your time, plus a generous bonus for success. But regardless of what Mr. Silva chooses to do, my employer will assist you in finding your father.”
I breathe in and out, scarcely daring to hope this could happen. Would Hazel understand? What if it’s just this one time?
“I’d like to tell Hazel,” I say. “To ask if—”
“No. I’m sorry, but you know the work we do is strictly confidential.”
“What sort of work is it again?”
“Luke,” he says curtly, dodging the question. “Are you in or are you out?”
“Can I have overnight to think about it?”
“No.”
“Just a few hours to—”
“No. I’m sorry, but there’s a ticking clock I’m not at liberty to discuss.” He pauses. “If you choose to take this assignment, we’d need you at the facility by ten a.m. tomorrow.”
“Shit.” Tomorrow is Hazel’s baby shower. She’ll be tied up all morning, so in theory I could make it to Joyner and back without her knowing. But it feels wrong to keep secrets and—
“Luke? I need an answer.”
Dragging a hand down my face, I draw a deep breath. “Okay.”
“That’s a yes?” His eyes scan my face. “You’re confirming you’re in?”
“Yeah,” I say slowly, drawing a breath. “I’m in.”
“Good.” Noah looks pleased as he pops open his door. “Let’s get some whipped cream.”
I climb out of the truck, praying like hell this won’t bite me in the ass.
“Damn, parca.” Enzo’s smile shines familiar and warm. “It’s good to see you.”
“Same, buddy.” Clapping his back, I sit down in a brown plastic chair. Anyone watching will think we’re old pals, so at least that part’s true. “How’s your mom?”
“Great, really good.” His smile falters a little. “Disappointed I’m still locked up, you know?”
“Yeah.” Clearing my throat, I don’t glance at the guard. “How about your cousin—I’m forgetting his name. Was it Andre?”
This part is pure script, and there’s no Cousin Andre. But Enzo responds like he’s meant to. “Afonso.” His good-natured smile doesn’t waver. “You’ll never believe what that crazy bastard did.”
“What’s that?” I’m wearing a tiny earpiece, so I turn to the side to make sure the device picks up whatever he tells me. “He was always louca, right?”
“Louco,” he corrects with a grin. Both of us know my misgendering misstep wasn’t an accident. It’s a code in the script. “The madman took up surfing. Surfing—can you believe it? At his size?”
“That’s wild.” Also what my handlers are hoping to hear. “Does he even know how to swim?”
“He learned, thank God. Wound up in the hospital last month, though.”
“What for?” We’re getting into the meat of this now. I hold my breath, hoping the guards don’t cut us short. “Surfing accident?”
“The son of a bitch hit his head on a rock.” Enzo shakes his head, still chuckling, with a glance at the guard to my left. “Needed sixteen stitches. Eleven of ‘em were right here.” He touches a spot to the left of his eye, another detail I make note of.
“Jesus,” I mutter. “Bet he wound up with a gnarly scar.”
“Nah, it’s not too bad. Got a tiny little red mark right here in the shape of a crescent. Other than that, he’s all good.”
There’s more facial touching, more clues for me to remember. I take it all in, glad I’ve had practice keeping track of the signals. One of the guards moves closer, so I hustle to squeeze in the rest of my questions. “Where are you thinking you want to settle once you get out?”
“Ah, man.” He leans back in his chair, dragging a hand over his bald head. “I’d love to go see my avó in S?o Paulo, but I don’t see that happening for a while. Not with how parole works, you know?”
“Yeah.” I keep watching the guard in the corner of my eye. “Joyner seems nice.”
“This little pipsqueak town?” He pretends to scoff, but that’s part of the script. “Nah, man. Not really my scene.”
“I hear ya.” We’re just about done here, and Enzo must know it.
He seizes the chance to ask his own questions. “How about you, man? What’s new?”
This part is off script, but also a crucial part of making this ring true. “I’m gonna be a dad.”
“No way, man!” Enzo looks thrilled.
“Yep. Twin girls, due in February.”
“I’ll be damned.” Chuckling, he rubs his palms on the legs of his pants. “Got a pic of your babymama?”
I hesitate. The photos I brought here today are all pre-approved. None of them show people I know in real life, certainly not Hazel.
“Yeah, man.” It feels weird to hand him a photo of a woman I don’t know. “That’s her. That’s the mother of my girls.”
“Whoa. Damn, she’s pretty.”
“Yeah.” The woman in the photo is pretty but doesn’t hold a candle to Hazel. I wonder if Enzo knows this as he studies the image.
“Twin girls, huh?” He grins as he hands back the photo. “Congrats. That explains the shirt.”
“Oh—yeah.” I glance down at my chest and read the words, I create clones. Beneath that is a cartoon depiction of two tiny pink rattles. “A present from her. From—from my babymama.”
I deliberately don’t use her name. Not here, not in this place filled with criminals.
“It’s cool,” Enzo says.
“Thanks.” Hazel gave me the shirt this morning. She greeted me with it as I stood in the closet getting dressed for the day.
“I feel bad that I’m getting showered with gifts while you’re stuck running errands today.” Her smile seemed shy as she fiddled with the ribbon on the box. “You deserve something, too.”
I cinched the damp towel at my waist and gulped back a big wave of guilt. “Aren’t the gifts for the girls?”
“Yes, but I wanted you to have something just for you.” Her smile turned saucy as she gave me the box, then reached for the edge of my towel. “How about you open it while I give you a bonus gift?”
Now, I swallow a fresh wave of guilt as I face Enzo. “Guess we should wrap things up.”
“Guess so.”
“Anything you want me to tell your family for you? I’m grabbing beers with your brothers next week.”
“Tell ’em I love ’em.” His faraway smile tells me this part is real. “And I’m looking forward to seeing ’em on the outside again. Maybe in time for mam?’s birthday.”
I hope that can happen. “It’s been good catching up, man.” I get to my feet and pull my old pal into a hug. “Take care, man.”
“You too, buddy. Hope to see you again real soon.”
“Same, man.” I know it’s a lie, but it isn’t. I wouldn’t mind seeing my buddy again on the outside. But I meant what I promised Hazel, even if I’m bending the rules by being here today.
Keeping my gaze straight ahead, I make my way out of the visiting area. I feel eyes on my back, and I know it’s the guard, so I say a quick prayer they don’t suspect something.
I don’t breathe easy until I’m alone in my truck parked three miles away from the penitentiary. Phone to my ear, I relay all the details to Noah.
“Good,” he says gruffly. “You did real well in there.”
“You were listening in, I assume.”
He doesn’t respond. “We have a strong lead on your father. It’s looking promising.”
“Yeah?” I wish I could feel more excited. I do feel excited, but also a little bit ill. “You’ll let me know when they find him?”
“Yep.”
“And you’ll let your employers know I’m done after this.”
“Absolutely.”
“I mean it, man—I’m really finished this time.”
“I hear you,” he says. “Thanks for your service.”
“Don’t mention it.” I hang up and drive home feeling equal parts fearful and free.