REVEAL
Chris
Sara’s laughter fills the space after the front door creaks open.
Cash’s work. That’s his thing, his charm. He could sweet-talk himself out of a minefield. Not a bad skill in our trade. It gets you into locked rooms as well as into people’s heads.
Sara enters the kitchen first, cheeks tinged pink from the cold. She glances at me, then down at the food. Cash trails after, smug in that untroubled way of his. He pulls out a chair for her, smooth as ever.
“Well, thank you, Mr. Carter Lexington III,” she teases as she sits.
The smile drains from my face instantly. Why would he give her his real name? Is that his idea of bonding? Idiot.
Sara’s back is turned when I speak. “You’re right on time,” I say, shaking my head, palms up in a silent question as I fix Cash with a glare.
He lifts one shoulder, mirrors the headshake, mouths What? as he drops into a chair and digs in.
I let it go for now.
"You know, one day you might actually learn to cook." The man could survive on protein bars and canned chili, but when real food appears in front of him, he eats like it’s his last meal.
He shrugs, mouth full. “Why cook when I have you?”
Sara watches us banter, trying to make sense of the dynamic between us.
I turn my head toward her. “Hope you're hungry. It's omelet day.”
“It smells good.”
She stays alert, her gaze flicking between us, lips curving once or twice when we land a joke.
Cash finishes half his plate before breathing again. “I’m on call. Could be Istanbul. Or Medellín. Depends what drops first. Till then, I’ll be at my place.” He leans in, eyes glinting as they lock on Sara before he continues. “Or here, should I get bored.”
No doubt he’ll get “bored.” He needs an excuse to come over and see her.
“I’m staying here until the election. Once I get Sara home, I have a gig on the way back. We can meet here after.”
Sara looks between us. “You’re in security, right?”
There it is. She had to ask sooner or later. I meet Cash’s eyes for an instant. We’ve got a strategy for staying vague. I’m not sure he’ll stick to it, though. He toys with the knife, letting it spin once, twice, before speaking. “We work on contracts. Project-based stuff. Usually short-term.”
Sara frowns. “What type of projects?”
I clear my throat. “Executive problem solving,” I say, letting the words hang for a beat before adding, “We step in when things get... complicated. High-stakes decisions, sensitive issues, obstacles that can’t be handled through normal channels. We make sure problems don’t stay problems.”
Cash grins, eyes twinkling. “Yeah. Making problems disappear. For good.”
And with that, the strategy’s out the window.
Sara’s fork locks in place. Her posture stiffens. Subtle, but I catch it. Her walls go up fast. “Disappear?” she asks carefully.
I keep my voice calm. “We handle difficult cases. Situations others can’t clean up.”
She furrows her brow deeper. “Are you saying you kill people?”
Cash’s smile fades enough to be noticeable. “We don’t say that out loud,” he whispers.
Her fork hits the plate. Keeping her head down, she stands too quickly. “I need to go.”
For a second, I think she’s going to faint. Her face has gone completely pale. “Sara—” I start, but she’s already out of the room.
Cash exhales, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Well... that went great.”
The sound of the front door echoes through the cabin. I’m on my feet before he puts down his mug, ready to chase her through the forest.
Thankfully, there’s no need. She’s on the porch, standing by the railing, arms wrapped around herself. Drawn inward, she hides beneath the hoodie, her presence fading from view. I stand next to her, not too close, without speaking right away. She doesn’t acknowledge me.
For a while, only the sound of the wind and a few rustling leaves scraping across the porch floorboards settles around us.
“It was the last thing my mom bought before she passed.” Her voice is barely audible.
I blink. “What was?”
She tugs at her hoodie. “This. The hoodie.”
My chest twists. I recall trying to take it from her. She’d gaped at me in horror as if I was trying to steal her entire world. I didn’t understand then. I do now. “I’m sorry,” I say, matching her tone.
She nods, but it’s stiff. Her hands clench tighter around her arms. “She didn’t simply die,” she states at last. “Not the way they say. I found a letter. She wrote it... just in case.”
I know where this is going.
“She knew she was in danger. Thought my father was responsible.” She turns toward me now.
Her eyes glisten, pinning me in place. “There was an investigation. The files were sealed, closed to the public. He has connections. He’s too smart to have it done himself, but he could’ve paid someone to cover up her death, make it look like an accident. ”
My throat goes dry.
Her eyes cut through me. “Someone like you.”
A thousand denials choke me. I didn’t know.
I’d never take such a job. I don’t touch people who don’t deserve it.
The words stay locked behind my teeth. I barely tip my chin and stand beside her.
My research about her was limited to current relationships and routines.
Her family history wasn’t relevant. No mother.
No paternal grandparents. No extended family.
Only her father and her mother’s parents in the picture. That was enough.
She turns, wordless, and goes inside.
Leaning into the railing, my gaze drifts across the lake. The door clicks shut. Cash steps onto the porch from around the corner. He must’ve secured the back, in case our revelation had sent her running.
“You think all that’s true?”
I exhale slowly, eyes on the lake. “I think she believes it.”
“You know anyone who’d sign up for this? Mayor-to-be taking out his wife? Not your typical campaign strategy.”
“Not sure. You?”
He shrugs. “Not off the top of my head. Too risky. Too public. With the money right and cops in your pocket? Someone might’ve said yes.”
We’re both lost in thought as birds chatter in the distance.
“The better question is why would he want her gone?”
He hums in agreement. “Motive. Shouldn’t be a problem. I can get my hands on those files.”
“I’m sure you can.” But I’m not sure he should.
He leans on the railing beside me. “You really think you should take her back? If there’s even a chance this is true, you’d be walking her straight into the same trap.”
He’s dragging this somewhere it shouldn’t go.
“She could be wrong,” I argue, “and Whitmore threatened to resurface my record. That can’t happen. She doesn’t stay.”
“Fuck.” He slams his hand on the railing. “If she’s in danger, don’t hand her back to the same people who might’ve had her mom killed.”
“Don’t,” I snap. “She’s not our responsibility.”
“Bullshit. She became yours the moment you brought her here, and mine the moment I did. If someone really killed her mom and her father’s behind it, I don’t care about our records. We’ll figure it out.”
“So what, you wanna adopt her?”
Cash tilts his head. “That’s what you think of when she’s around you? Adoption? Cause I most definitely don’t.”
My teeth grind together. “Is that why you told her your real name? To have a reason to stop me from bringing her back?”
“Not like you didn’t do the same thing, Chris.”
Hearing him say my name sounds wrong, and he knows it. It’s not the same, though. No last name, no background.
I don’t comment on his remark. “She. Is. A. Job.” I stress every word. “This job keeps me breathing. I’m not going to disappear again because my face is all over the news. You had parents to pull you out. I didn’t and still don’t.”
Cash goes still, as always when his background comes up.
His parents care about the name, not the son.
The name protects him anyway. They wiped his records clean.
No one even knows he was in. No one went after him.
I didn’t have that. I needed Mendoza. To them, I’m the reason their son enlisted in the first place, and they despise me for it.
“I know you don’t, but there are other ways.”
He’s done listening. Cash pushes off the railing and heads for his truck, unleashed.
The sound of his engine fades.
She’s trouble.
I knew she was, just a different kind than I thought.