Shrugging, I stoop down and kiss Hazel’s temple. “We’ll buy batteries and motor oil, too.”
“Good plan,” she says, shifting her weight in the chair.
“Don’t have any babies while I’m gone.”
“I’ll do my best not to.”
Nodding to Lucy, I follow Noah to the front door. “Dinner was delicious,” I call to our hostess. “We’ll be right back.”
“Thanks, guys.” Lucy slams the fridge door shut. “It’s nice having my helpful brother in town for such an unexpectedly long stretch this time.”
Bickering breaks out behind us as Kaleb and Mason and Jake argue amongst themselves over who’s truly the most helpful brother. Parker’s not here to defend himself, having gone back to Alaska already. His wedding to Calliope is slated for fall, and their baby boy is due later this month. Jake and Cassidy aren’t far behind, with their little girl arriving in May.
I follow Noah to his truck, tugging my hood up to counter the rain coming down in big buckets. He waits until I’m buckled in to pull out of the driveway. I hold my tongue waiting, knowing there’s no way he’s this passionate about whipped cream.
“Got a job for you.”
I figured. “Can’t.”
“This one’s different.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I mutter. “I’m done with that stuff. No more working with criminals, no matter how well it pays.”
“This is my cousin’s rule?”
“This is my rule. I’m not doing anything that risks my relationship with Hazel or our daughters.”
“We want the same thing.” He sounds thoughtful. “You think I’d do something to jeopardize that?”
“I think you operate on the morally gray side of the law.” That’s about the only thing I’m sure of. “Beyond that, I have no idea.”
Noah falls silent for a moment. “Would it change anything if I told you the man you’d be talking to is someone you already know?”
“No.” Though it does pique my curiosity. “Who?”
“Enzo Rodrigues Silva.”
The name hits my chest like a wet bag of sand. “Enzo?”
“Yes.”
Holy shit. My old cellmate Enzo. The buddy who taught me Portuguese. The guy with the sweet Brazilian mother who sent letters each week and said prayers for her baby in jail. “You’re serious right now.”
“Dead.”
“Enzo’s still locked up?” I could’ve sworn he was scheduled for release last year.
“His sentence was extended,” Noah says carefully. “He’s at a minimum-security prison camp facility near Joyner, but he’s still behind bars.”
“Huh.” That’s a puzzle. “Why the extended sentence?”
“A physical conflict that wasn’t his fault.”
That’s vague. “Was he hurt?”
“No.”
I don’t bother asking if the other guy was. Enzo’s six-five and two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle. If he got in a fight, there’s a good chance the other guy didn’t fare well. “What else can you tell me?”
