“Am I Satan?” He sounds bemused.
“Get lost, Noah.” I sigh. “You’ve done enough already.”
He still doesn’t budge, the stubborn bastard. “I’ll talk to her.”
I bark out another humorless laugh. “Yeah, that’ll go over well. Newsflash, buddy—one ex-con vouching for the other doesn’t go over so well.”
Something dark and deadly sparks in his eyes. Not for the first time, I wonder if Noah is dangerous. Does it even matter at this point?
“You didn’t try to tell her what you were doing at the pen?” He sounds incredulous. “Not even to save your own ass?”
“I told you,” I grit out. “I’m not a rat. I signed an ironclad NDA, remember?”
“I’m aware.” He’s quiet a moment. “Some things are more important than keeping your word.”
“To Hazel?” Yeah, I’m not so sure. “If I’d kept my word to Hazel and turned you down for that job, we might still be planning a future together. We’d still be in love and excited to raise our girls together if I hadn’t broken my promise to stay on the straight and narrow.”
“Not what I meant,” Noah grumbles. “Most guys I know would throw me under the bus in a heartbeat if it meant saving their own skin.”
“Yeah, well I’m not most guys.” Maybe if I were, I’d still be with Hazel. “This whole thing was a mistake.”
He doesn’t ask what I mean. To be honest, I’m not sure I know.
Do I regret taking that last job with Noah? Sure, but I could’ve said no.
Even when he dangled the carrot of finding my father, I still could have honored my promise to Hazel.
When Noah speaks, his voice is a low rumble. “What do you do with the money?”
“The money I make from these side jobs?”
“Yeah.”
“Dig myself out of debt from five years of criminal trials and incarceration.”
“What else?”
“I’ve been pouring a lot into the nursery.”
“And?”
I’m sensing he already knows all this. “I donate to a charity that helps teenage kids on the wrong track. A charity named for the girl who got killed.”
“Kayley’s Foundation.”
“Yep.” Now I’m annoyed he gets to ask all the questions. “Who do you work for?”
Noah sighs. “You know I can’t tell you that.”
I figured. “All right then, how about this—do you really believe the work I’ve been doing makes a difference? That my small part in whatever this is has somehow improved people’s lives?”
Noah stares. “Damn right it does.”
But I’m not convinced. “This inmate rehabilitation program—is it just some bullshit cover for more criminal shit? Be honest with me, Noah.”
He looks at me long and hard. Stares into my eyes like he’s searing two holes through my brain. “I swear on my own life,” he says slowly, “what we’re doing matters. You’ve saved lives, Luke. A lot of them.”
That makes me feel marginally better. “Fine,” I mutter. “Will you please get out of my truck now?”
