“Find out who the guy in the room next to ours is. And get rid of him.”
“Nosy neighbor?”
“You could say that.” It wasn’t just overhearing the sex part that bothered Sinner—he didn’t trust the guy not to listen to other things…like conversations.
The tap of Dante’s fingers on the keyboard filled the air for a minute. Finally, Dante chuckled. “You’re in luck. He’s wanted for arrest. Aaand,” he drawled, “I just tipped the police. They’re on their way. What a shame.”
He snorted. “I appreciate your help.”
“I got your six.” Dante ended the call, but his words echoed in Sinner’s ears for a moment longer.
He stared down at the screen, trying to get his head in the game before he made the call he’d been considering all day.
The number wasn’t saved in his phone—it didn’t need to be. It was stored in his memory.
The line clicked, and a familiar voice filled his ear, accent thick and his tone as dry as ever. “Leo here.”
“Uncle Leo.”
Silence met his words.
After a loaded beat, Leo spoke. “Well, this is a surprise.”
Despite his statement, his “uncle” did not sound at all surprised to hear Sinner calling from beyond the grave.
“You attended my funeral.”
Leo’s voice turned gritty. “I did. Lovely service. Your mother framed the flag.”
Sinner’s throat clogged with emotion. Bowing his head, he battled with the decision he’d made to join Blackout—and therefore break his mother’s heart by dying.
He twisted his lips, holding back any sound.
While this conversation so far was painful as hell, it was all the confirmation Sinner needed that he was right about the matter. “I know you’re not really my uncle. You’re my handler.”
Leo didn’t hesitate. “What gave it away?”
Sinner could almost see the man he called uncle—thinner, grayer, but always strong in body and mind. He could smell the pizza baking in Leo’s shop. Hear the faint chatter of customers in the background.
He dragged in a deep breath. When he spoke, he didn’t answer Leo’s question. “I wonder if you know a guy. Goes by Lazarus.”
“We don’t talk about Lazarus,” he responded at once.
Sinner closed his eyes briefly. The words were another concrete block on the wall of secrets built around his life.
“So I was part of it.”
“Yes.”
He didn’t need the verbal validation, but the admission still tugged at him.
“I have a request,” he said after another pause. “I met someone. I’m working with her now. She’s tied to it too. I need help finding her mother.”
Silence stretched. If he couldn’t hear the hum of the pizza oven on the line, he would have thought Leo—or whateverhisreal name was—had hung up.
“I wasn’t supposed to,” he said finally, “but I got pretty damn fond of you. I’ll look into it.”
“She goes by Opal Simmons.”
