We make our way to the car, and while it still smells like burnt Jell-O, it’s significantly better than it was on the ride up. Omar is driving, and I pull up DB on the Bluetooth.
“Hey, you two! I take it you both survived the drive.”
“Easy as pie, boss,” I say, probably a little too chipper if Omar’s side-eye is any indication.
“I did nearly commit murder but didn’t want to have to deal with the good twin.” Omar deadpans, surprising me.
DB pauses on the line, and I laugh at Omar, who rolls his eyes at me.
“Um…oookay, let’s go over the parameters. You have IDs on the two men in question, accurate?”
I lock in, not wanting to mess up the details. “Accurate. John Smith and Steve Parkinson. Staying at the Seven Pines Inn, verified proof from Ronan that they are the ones responsible for the deaths of six sex workers in the last three months. Parkinson is thirty-four, Smith is forty-nine, and neither have a military background. Both are part of the money-laundering operation, not combat ready. Should be an easy takedown.”
“Good. I’ve given Ronan your parents’ address. He’s got a few loose ends to tie up and will make his way over once you’ve confirmed that the op is complete. He’ll be riding back with you, so try to keep it professional.”
I mute the call briefly. “He’ll stay in my parents’ guest room.”
Omar nods and I unmute. “Sounds like a plan, boss.”
“All right, then. Get in, get out, get home. We’ve got a new player in town, and it looks like guns and kids.”
“Will do. Was thinking of staying over one more night at the parentals’ to show Omar and Ronan how we cook in East Texas.”
“Sounds good. Say hi to Mama Bash for me. And if she makes any of her pork shoulder, you better bring me some leftovers.”
“You know it, boss.”
I end the conversation with DB and up-nod Omar. “I let my mom know that you’re Muslim, so there won’t be any pork products on the dinner menu.”
Omar shrugs, twisting a long lock of my hair in his fingers. “I’m secular. I eat bacon. I’m sure whatever your mother cooks will be fine.”
“Oh, okay. She’s a professor of religious studies, so she was very excited about any potential restrictions.”
He chuckles and looks at me like he doesn’t know what to do with me. To be fair, this is a familiar reaction to my brand of wit and charm, and now I know he likes it, I intend to have the kind of fun with it that we’ll both enjoy.
We ride in silence the rest of the way to the place, both of us getting our heads in the game.
Seven Pines has eight cabins, all tucked away, separated from one another by dense forest, so our approach in the rising morning light is well concealed. We get out of the car, and I hip-check Omar as I open the back of the SUV.
“Can you take this seriously?” he grumbles, but there’s no heat behind it.
“Sure, but why would I?”
“Because we’re in the middle of committing murder?”
“Fine,” I say, using a wiping gesture with my hand to transform my face into Serious Anders, complete with a scowl and a straightened spine.
“Ass,” he says, rolling his eyes and squeezing my package before he turns on the comms.
Cheeky bastard.
“Comms check, Omar here.”
“Loud and clear, Omar.”
“Anders here. It’s too bad this is audio only. I’m feeling my look this morning.”
Jake’s response is laughter, but DB’s is a stern warning. “Eyes on the prize, gentlemen. Keep your comms open.”
