Before she can probe further, I stop her. “My parents are OK. Nobody’s dying.”
She smiles and takes the empty coffee cups. “Don’t forget your eleven o’clock call with Phill.”
My phone vibrates on the desk.
CARTER:Come to the penthouse.
ADAM:????
CARTER:Please.
I smirk. Eliza’s niceness is rubbing off on Carter. Sort of.
“I’ll take it in the car. Don’t think I’ll be back today.”
Gilda’s lips purse as she leaves. Something about her look makes me defensive. “It’s business.”
On the drive over, a million worst-case scenarios race through my head. Carter’s not the type to play hooky, so it can’t be anything good.
The answer is waiting in Carter’s living room, pacing, hands behind her back. Agent Ruiz moves like she’s measuring the length between the floor-to-ceiling windows, her steps sharp, the cadence rippling faintly in the large room.
“Am I in trouble?” I want to laugh it off, but something cold slides down my spine.
Carter gestures for me to have a seat as Agent Ruiz turns her attention to me, analytical and skeptical.
“I don’t know, Mr. Rawlings. A pretty face doesn’t always get the job done,” she finally says flatly, unbuttoning her navy blazer.
Half offended, half amused, I scoff, pointing at my head. “Trust me, it’s never failed me before.”
“You don’t even know what this is about,” Carter says.
The cushions dip under me with a muffled thump as I settle into the far end of the couch, a crooked smile already pulling at my lips.
“Guess I’m about to find out, right?” I lean into the cushions, arm draped along the top. “Since I was summoned so gracefully.”
Carter takes a deep breath through his nose, and I know I’m getting to him. “You’re already making me rethink this.”
“Is this about the men who chased Jackie?” I ask, serious now, impatience slipping through. “Did we get any new information?”
“They clammed up,” Ruiz says, her disappointment palpable. “Couldn’t get anything from them, but—”
“Because you didn’t let Sheriff Walker use his… methods,” Carter points out, which earns him a withering glare from Ruiz.
“We want to run a sting operation, and Mr. Rawlings here,” she says, gesturing to Carter, “offered you as bait.”
“Rude,” I chide, wiggling a finger at him. But all amusement peels away as I turn back to her. “Tell me what you need me to do.”
She reclines into the armchair, crossing her legs, cool and calm. “You might not like it.”
My pulse spikes, but I’d rather I go down if needed, instead of Jackie. “Don’t care. If it keeps her safe, I’ll do it. Whatever it is.”
Ruiz fixes me with a hard, considering stare for a beat.
“We’re tracking the group,” she continues, opening a sturdy file on the coffee table. “But we need to be sure we get every last one of them. That’s where you come in.”
“Do I need to go undercover? You’ll strip me and tape a recorder to my chest?”
Ruiz levels me with another withering glare. “This isn’t an 80s mob movie.”
