“I’d love to work the late shift if you create one,” Riley says.
We discuss it for a few minutes, and I let them know I’ll be looking for more help in case they have friends who are interested. The two of them have done an amazing job.
“Silver.” Camille pokes her head through the door that separates the coffee bar from the diner. “I almost forgot. You had a package delivered during the lunch rush. It’s in the office.”
I expect to find a box of samples from a food distributor or something similar, not the large white box tied with a red ribbon. Someone sent me a gift? I remove the lid to find a small card lying on top of the tissue paper. It has a hand drawn heart and one word.Lee.
Camille looks in with a smile. “Early Christmas gift?”
“I don’t know.” I part the tissue paper and lift out a pale blue dress. “Lee sent it.”
It’s unexpected and I don’t know what to make of it. Maybe it’s meant to smooth things over between us. It hasn’t been quite the same since he caught me at the cabin a week ago. This would be his way of resolving things. Not withsweet words but a gesture, one he’ll probably wave off like it’s not a big deal. But it is to me.
“Oh, how pretty,” Camille remarks when I hold it up in front of me.
It is pretty. It’s knee length with a wrap style bodice and a V neckline. The fitted waist is secured by a small tie at the side, and the skirt falls in soft folds from the waist. It’s casual and looks comfortable. I love it.
It’s a size larger than I would buy, but it’ll fit since it’s meant to be flowy anyway. Lee really surprised me. I’m touched and torn between calling him or waiting to thank him in person. Another idea occurs to me, and I glance at the clock. If I leave now, I’ll have plenty of time to stop by the grocery store to get the ingredients to fix one of his favorite meals and change into the dress before he gets home.
He bought it for me, so he’ll be happy to see me in it. Then out of it.
CHAPTER 16
LEE
The gravel popsunder my tires as I roll to a stop at the gate which is taller than it used to be. Gerry always did have the best security. When you hunt human traffickers, you must be able to protect yourself, but the whole perimeter looks like a private compound for someone expecting a small war.
I cut the truck’s engine and silence rushes in. A camera set on a swivel catches my face and the speaker crackles. “Step out of the vehicle.” The voice isn’t one I recognize or remember, but he sounds bored, not threatening.
I open my door slowly, keeping my hands in view, and stand beside my truck. My breath fogs the cold air, rising up and fading. The gate doesn’t open. Instead, two large armed men emerge from a smaller side door, their armored vests visible under jackets. Neither looks happy to see me.
“You’re here for a meeting with Mr. Nolan,” one of them says.
“Yes. He knows I’m coming.”
“He does.” The guard gestures toward the small door. “Walk ahead of us.”
The hallway inside is narrow and lined with metal, like something out of an old Cold War bunker. Gerry’s paranoid, but he has reason to be. We all did, and I’m not the only one who learned that the hard way. You don’t spend years cleaning up human garbage without them retaliating.
They lead me through a metal detector, then an x-ray scanner to make sure I’m not carrying any weapons. The scanner is new and probably added because of the possibility of 3D printed plastic guns. Once they’re confident I’m unarmed, one guard places his finger on a pad to identify his fingerprint. A wide set of double doors opens. On the other side is a completely different world of warm wooden floors, a vaulted ceiling, and huge windows that overlook an ink black lake.
Everything about the interior feels expensive. Gerry’s taste hasn’t changed.
He sits in a chair off to the right, near a stone fireplace. He’s around seven years older than the last time I saw him. Gray has taken over his dark hair, and his face is more lined, but his posture is straight, and his presence still sharp.
His eyes cut up to me the moment I enter. “We’re good here,” he says to the guards without looking at them. “He’s harmless unless you hire him.”
“That’s debatable,” I remark, and a corner of his mouth twitches.
The guards exit, latching the heavy doors behind them, and Gerry gestures to the chair opposite him. “Sit.”
He studies me the way he used to study a mark, quiet, assessing, probably seeing more than I want him to. “You look tired,” he says finally.
“It’s been a long week.”
“Yes.” He folds his hands together. “Your message said you needed to talk and it was urgent.”
“I got a few texts followed by a letter. Someone wants me to kill an innocent man.”
