Billy dashed off as Robin straightened back up.
“Sorry,” Sam said. “I’ve gotten so used to policing the language I use around Ash and Haley—Alyssa calls it code-switching, because I am kinda good at instantly shutting that stuff off, but I wasn’t thinking that Bill might be underfoot.”
“Don’t sayhate,” Jules pointed out. “I think all the f-bombs went right over his head.”
“Yeah, that’s all well and good,” Sam shot back, “until he tells his mother he doesn’t like his—” he looked out the door to make sure the little boy really was gone and lowered his voice anyway “—fucking sandwich.”
“Yeah, that would not go down well,” Robin agreed.
“When you get a chance,” Jules told Sam. “Tonight before it gets too late... I think it’s time to call Milt Junior on Mick O’Rourke’s phone.”
Sam turned to look at him. “You think?”
“I do.”
“If we’re right about this doctored video,” Sam pointed out, “Milt the Junior absolutely was a victim of his father. But that still doesn’t mean Emily’s not currentlyhisvictim.”
“I hear you,” Jules said. “But so far all we’ve apparentlybeen doing is shaking what I’m pretty sure is Harper’s tree. Let’s see what happens when we shake Mick’s.”
Sam nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll make that call right now.” As he headed for the door, he nodded to Robin. “I’ll let Jules be the one to kiss you again, but nice work. Not just with the video, which was pretty freaking great, but with Billy, too. You’d be a good father.” He looked back at Jules. “He’d actually be a great father.”
“Pretty sure he knows that,” Robin said. “Pretty sure that’s not the problem.”
“Yeah, I know, it’s this fucking dumpster fire of a world,” Sam said. As he headed toward the bathroom, where he could lock the door and drop f-bombs to his heart’s delight, they could hear him already on his phone and leaving a message for Mick. “Hey, Milt or Mick or whatever the fuck you want us to call you...”
Jules laughed as the door closed behind him. “Apparently his idea of shaking the tree is with hurricane force winds.”
“Navy SEAL,” Robin pointed out.
“It’s refreshing,” Jules said. “Working with Sam.”
“That’s good,” Robin said.
“And you’re no idiot, either.”
“I love it when you start with the sexy talk,” Robin said. “Feel free to kiss me, any time.”
And Jules—his husband and partner, the love of his life—did.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Present Day
Palm Springs, California
Mission Day Three
The Italian restaurant may have been overrated.
Of course, it was possible that the food tasted like ash only because Mick’s mouth felt like an ashtray.
For the first time in God knows how many years, he wanted a drink.
No, he knew exactly how long it had been since he’d felt this nearly overwhelming desperation.
Not years, plural.
Mere months.
