“Why do you need me to? Where will you be?”
“I’m allowed to have a social life, you know.”
Jesus, Jericho’s recently widowed stepmother had a date? An overnight date? “With who?”
“None of your business. Look, the last time I left them alone they got kidnapped and held hostage. They’re scared of that happening again, but if their cop brother is there with his gun, they’ll feel safe.”
Kind of hard to argue with that. “They’re still seeing the counselor at school?”
“They are, but she’s useless. She just says it’s going to be a gradual process and we need to make them feel safe. So make them feel safe, Jericho.”
“When would I have to get there?”
“The sooner the better. How late are you working?”
“I don’t know. Five or six, probably.”
“Okay. Closer to five, if you can.”
Shit. He was going to have to do this. “I don’t know what they eat, or what they wear to school or any of that.”
“They’re not stupid. They can dress themselves. Order pizza for dinner, give them cereal for breakfast. It’s not complicated.”
“And you’ll leave a number? I can reach you if something goes wrong?”
“Fine.”
“Okay. Yeah. I’ll be there a bit after five.”
“Good.”
And then she was gone. Nothanks, of course. Not from Nikki.
Well, at least if Wade came by again, Jericho wouldn’t be home to deal with him. To be confused by him. And maybe—
It wasn’t a good thought. But after the kids were in bed, Jericho would be alone in the house of someone who was probably involved in smuggling drugs across the border. It would be a violation of trust, but he could poke around a little and see what Nikki was up to. He didn’t want to bust her—didn’t want to get stuck with the kids for any longer than necessary—but that didn’t mean he couldn’t look for anything that might incriminate someone else.
Might incriminate Wade. Because that was who she was working with, unless he’d completely misunderstood the situation. No proof of it, but a strong feeling. So he was going to snoop around in his recently widowed step-mother’s house, hunting for evidence he could use to incriminate his ex-lover, a man who’d saved Jericho’s life just over a month earlier?
What kind of person would do that?
What kind of cop wouldn’t take advantage of any leads to shut down a drug smuggler?
Jericho pushed away from his desk impatiently and strode to the door of his office, then kept going right out of the building and onto the sidewalk. He’d stretch his legs, buy himself some lunch, and let things settle down in his mind.
It should have worked. But he was only a half block from the station when he noticed the car easing along beside him, and he rested his hand on his holster as he looked over, trying to seem casual. No one in the passenger seat. No gun pointing at him. The feds had gotten him paranoid, that was all.
He crouched down enough to see in the window. Probably someone hoping for directions, he figured, but changed his mind when he saw the man behind the wheel.
“Hey, Junior,” Mike DeMonte said. “You going somewhere? You want a ride?”
“I was just going down to the diner,” Jericho said. “I can walk.”
Mike’s expression didn’t change, but there was a new tone in his voice when he said, “Nah, I can drive you. Get in.”
The warnings all ran through Jericho’s mind, not only the ones from other people but also messages from his own common sense. But if this was real, if the bikers were trying to make contact and Jericho turned them down, he’d be missing an opportunity. And it wasn’t like he’d been poking anyone very hard, yet. He hadn’t given anyone a reason to want to take him out.
So he walked over to the car and climbed in, settling so he was sitting a bit crooked and had more room to get his gun loose. Just in case.
Mike didn’t say anything as they drove down the street, and Jericho didn’t speak up when they cruised past the diner without even slowing down. He was going to have to wait for his lunch.
