“Are you in protective services?” Jackson asks.
“No… it was a detective who promised to help hide me if I slipped him the information. He promised he’d help me relocate in exchange.”
“A detective had the money to do this?” I ask.
“I didn’t need the money; I have my own. I needed him to erase me. Long story short, there was a dead woman on the scene. She was around my age and had cut herself off from her birth family because they were bad people. He basically swapped us out—marked me as dead and left the Barlows to assumeshewas the one who fled, not me. No one would have been surprised. They’d dragged her into that life when she was at her worst, then held her there with drugs. She’d been trying to run the moment she became wound up with the Barlows, but she had nowhere to go.
“It hurt no one. Like I said, she had no family to grieve her disappearance. I knew her and she’d have told me in a heartbeat to do what I did. I had my son and she adored him. She would have done just about anything for us while alive, so I know taking her place in death would have been a given.
“So he wrote me up as dead, I gave him vital information, and that was that. Then when I saw you… I assumed the Barlow family sent you after me.”
“After I left your house the other night, did you do anything that drew attention to yourself?” I ask curiously.
“No… really, what could I do? You were independent last I saw you. I don’t quite know how I would even start to figure outif anyone hired you to kill me. I looked into you and found out about your agency, and I decided that if you were still doing stuff as a hitman, putting yourself on display to assassinate someone was the last thing you would be doing. And I realized it wasn’t a new thing. You’d been here for a while and were now married… I really thought you just picked him up off the street.”
I gasp. “You think I could pick up someone this goddamn fine off the street?” I ask as I hug Jackson’s head to me.
“I didn’t mean he looked like he came in off the street. I meant that… I thought he was a hire.”
I pat Jackson’s head. “As I explained, if I wanted you dead, you’d have been dead long before you ever saw me. So do you think the Barlow family has Cam?”
“If they do… I’m sure they’ll let me know. They’ll use him to get me to come out of hiding. And if they do… I’ll have no choice but to go to them.”
“You think they’ll let your son go, even if you sacrifice yourself?” I ask skeptically. “You did work for them, right? You know them better than that.”
“I have to protect my son.”
“Leaving him in their hands is not protecting him,” I say as I get up. “Does the family have any reach out this way? Isn’t the Barlows’ main location a few states from here?”
“When I left, they didn’t, but one of Raul’s sons eventually settled near here. I’ve kept an eye on it and questioned whether to move, but he seems very centralized and my dealings with him were extremely minimal. I can’t fathom him worrying his head over some girl who got away from his father ten years ago.”
“So then… why now?” Jackson wonders.
“Could it be someone else? Someone who recognized you from your previous work?” Tavish asks.
“I just… how the hell could I even begin to tell you all of the people I fucked over while working for Barlow? I’d been withthem since I was fourteen. And it’s been so many years since any of it happened. I don’t know the answer to any of this. I just… I need to get Cam back.”
“We’re doing what we can to get him back,” Jackson assures her.
I say, “I can go scout out the Barlow family’s estate that’s near here. Sophia, I want you to speak with Cassel; he might have something he can do to help track any devices Cam might have had. Does he have any AirPods or anything?”
“He does but if it really is the family, they’d be thorough in looking him over. And if it’s not the Barlows and they find out we’re looking into them… we’ll be fucked.”
“We or you? I’m pretty sure I never did anything to piss them off,” I say. “Let me call Tucker.”
I get off Jackson’s lap and head over to the window. I notice Everly taking my laptop and leaving the mouse behind for Jackson—clearly, he’s nicer than me. He slides into Cassel’s chair and starts messing with my laptop as Tucker, my former handler, answers my call.
“Ah, I almost sent you to voicemail. A good day is a day I don’t hear your voice,” Tucker says.
“You love my voice, you cranky old man,” I respond. “Don’t forget about all the times I kind of saved your life.”
“Last time when Dallas was paying me a visit, the guy after your head was the one who ended up saving me! That Everly man shot him through the window! You were just there to cause chaos.”
“Without my superior distraction, you wouldn’t even be alive. Please focus, Tucker.”
“You’re doing a job?” he asks, interest piqued. It’s evident that even if he can’t stand me, he would be more than happy to use me for some quick cash.
“Not a paying one,” I say.
