My head spun with the mixed-up bullshit I’d told Minnie. The mixed-up bullshit I’d told myself.
And the very clear evidence that I was a bold-faced liar.
18
JETT
For as much asI’d wanted to think Locke’s good mood at lunch meant he was opening up a little, I knew better.
It was a trap.
Another of his mercurial mood swings.
The promise he’d made after lunch wasn’t worth rushing our trip to town for—not that Roberto would have allowed it—because there was a high chance Locke would either be in a closed-off mood again when I returned or that he’d have work commitments he couldn’t step away from.
And I turned out to be right.
When we returned from the bustling mercato in Maiori, bags overflowing with fresh fruit and vegetables, Locke was closed up in the suite on more fucking phone calls.
I helped in the kitchen for a little while, cleaning produce and putting it away, before I overheard a news headline on his radio.
“… deragliamento vicino a Brema…”
Train derailment near…
“Brema? Cos’è Brema?” I asked, not realizing I’d slipped into Italian without thinking.
Roberto frowned at me. “Penso sia in Germania.”
Ahh,Bremen.
After making my excuses, I went outside to the far edge of the pool terrace and used my phone to look up the details. Thankfully, there were no fatalities, only minor injuries of two locals involved.
The photos showed several overturned train cars, their sides open and cargo spilled.
My fingers itched to contact Rocky and find out what the fuck was going on. This was exactly the kind of thing the team was worried about. It was killing me not to be able to at least ask if anything had gone missing during the derailment.
But I was on vacation, and the last thing I needed to do right now was anything that would cause someone at work to ask me where I was or what I was doing.
I gave up on the internet research after reading everything I could get my hands on and finally went inside. Locke was still on calls, so I changed into running clothes and hit the gym, alternating lifting with running and cycling until my legs were jelly.
I’d stayed in there well past time to dress for dinner, but since no one had come to alert me, I assumed the meal had been delayed. When I returned to the suite, Locke was on another call. Or maybe the same one—there was no way for me to know, really.
I walked past as silently as possible, but this time, the man himself called out.
“I’m sorry.”
It took me a minute before I realized he was talking to me. When I turned back to look at him, he was half standing from his seat at the large table.
The look on his face was genuinely apologetic. “Something came up, and I have to deal with it. I told Concetta to hold dinner until you were back and then serve it in here if that’s okay?”
I nodded, and he blew out a breath.
“Okay,” he said, exhaling. “Okay.”
He moved over to the tablet mounted on the wall, the one that had controls for the lights, the temperature, and the household messaging system. After pressing in a message to Concetta, he returned to the call and unmuted himself.
I moved into my room, closing the door before grinning.
