“Does Fallyn know?” Denim asked.
“I didn’t tell her,” Grace said. “Otherwise, Dillon threatened to chop off my hair in my sleep.”
Denim and I laughed. Grace’s hair was down to her butt and beautiful.
“So when can I tell Fallyn?” she asked as we headed toward the elevator.
“You can’t.” Denim narrowed his gaze at her. “Duke will decide.”
I appreciated that my brothers wanted to surprise me with Fallyn at Grace’s birthday party, but I didn’t want to see Fallyn for the first time at a party or with my family watching my every move and emotion.
“She might already know,” I said as we entered the elevator. “Her ATF colleagues might’ve gotten word and told her.”
“I don’t have her class until tomorrow afternoon,” Grace said. “So I can’t say if she knows you’re home or not, but she hardly talks to me outside of class.”
Either way, I had my own plan on how I wanted to reconnect with her.
37
FALLYN
Iwas running late for class. I hadn’t had a chance to go over my lesson plan. The morning had been filled with meetings between students and faculty. As the new adjunct professor on the block at BU, I was overwhelmed keeping up with my schedule. I’d accepted a part-time teaching assignment while I studied for my doctorate.
Nevertheless, I was enjoying the workload. It kept my mind preoccupied.
Since I’d said goodbye to Duke roughly ten months ago, I’d quit the ATF. It wasn’t because I promised my dad either. I’d lost interest in the job after my undercover assignment—and not because of Duke. But after Neal Fitzgerald shot himself in the head, I was tired of seeing dead bodies.
Then, sadly, my dad had a heart attack not long after New Year’s. That alone had hit me square in the face. As soon as he recovered, he and I left New England for a couple of months and ventured down to the Georgia coastline, where the weather was warm, the atmosphere was laid-back, and the area was quiet and serene.
The beach house we’d rented had been perfect for his recovery and for me to spend time with him while thinking of what I wanted to do next, as far as a career.
Dad encouraged me to do what I’d planned all along—teach college classes. He’d heard that BU had several adjunct openings for the upcoming fall semester. So I applied, and I couldn’t have been happier. I loved the college vibe, the students, and even the long days.
I ran down the hall, my messenger bag strapped over my shoulder, my feet aching in my heels, but I came to a screeching stop about ten feet from the classroom.
A familiar brunette who’d been my rock since I’d gone undercover was waiting impatiently outside my classroom as students walked by.
“Gwen, what are you doing here? Did something happen to Duke in prison?” I’d called her on occasion to check in with her and to see if she knew anything about Duke’s well-being.
I’d tried to see him at the onset of his prison sentence, but he declined visitors. Grace had mentioned that her brother wanted time to himself, to wrap his head around his life and future. He was one of those individuals who operated with the out-of-sight, out-of-mind mentality.
I tried to adopt his motto but failed when I was lying in bed at night or any time I was alone with my thoughts. I’d prayed constantly that nothing bad happened to Duke in prison.
“Do you have a minute?” She sounded like she had bad news.
“Not really, but hold on.” I poked my head into the classroom. “Today’s topic is correlation coefficients. Study up. There’ll be a quick quiz in ten minutes.”
Students complained as I returned to Gwen. “What is it?” My tone was sharp and biting.
“Have you seen Duke?” she asked.
Just hearing his name made my damn heart hurt. “Is he out?”
Her blue eyes flashed with something I couldn’t figure out. “I think he got early parole.”
I dug my fingers into my chest. “But you don’t know for sure?”
She shook her head. “Scuttlebutt in the office. Agent Howard is nervous. He’s still angry that the judge didn’t send Duke away for ten years.”
