“It always seems to be with you agents.” I frowned and looked out the window. The sunny morning was in full swing. People pushed strollers down the sidewalk, walked dogs, stopped for a chat on the corner. It all looked so normal, a normal I had never known as an adult. A longing for it ached inside me.
I turned back to Bray and found him studying my face. It made me blush. “What if I decide to run?”
“Then I’ll have to chase you.”
As tempting as it sounded, there were multiple reasons I couldn’t run. The truth was, I was safer imprisoned in my agreement with the DSA than I would be out on my own—or in actual prison. There was only one scenario where I could ever safely escape, and it was beyond a longshot because it required finding something that had gone missing the night my father got arrested. Something no one had seen in a decade.
The thought chilled my mood and reminded me what was at stake. “How do we find out what really happened to Wallace, because I don’t believe he had a heart attack.”
Bray started to say something and then stopped. “I told you, I only have so much clearance. I’m doing the best I can, but I can only ask so many questions, and I don’t have access to his files.”
I tapped my fingers on the table, wondering if I should just spill the whole truth about me and Wallace right here, right now. “Then you owe me some other information. That’s what we’re doing here, remember? Information for information.”
His eyes hardened. “What do you want to know?”
“Why was your clearance revoked? What did you do?”
He gave me a hard stare like he didn’t like the implication. “I didn’tdoanything. I—” He cut himself off mid-breath and sighed again. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
So, I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.
“Fine. Is our deal still on, then? Because I am not spending another day with Melanie’s kids until you tell me something useful about Wallace.”
He gave me a stiff nod. “Yes, it’s still on. I will continue to find out what I can if you keep up with the Del Rio moms.”
“Is that what we’re calling them now?”
“Seems to be a good description. I saw your texts. Did you get anything more out of them at the park?”
I sighed, feeling the familiar routine of reporting to my handler slide into place like a hand into a worn glove. Though, this handler was a lot easier on the eyes and didn’t have the personality of a cactus. I found Bray studying me again.
“Not really. I was too busy with the kids—which might be a flaw in your little plan here, by the way. I don’t know what I’m doing with them in the first place, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to get close to the moms if I’m on kid duty twenty-four seven.”
“You managed to gather some intel at the house this morning, didn’t you?” he said as if to justify his plan.
“Yes, but only because I got lucky and overheard something on the way to the bathroom between rounds of stuffed animal make-believe and a board game with very subjective rules.”
He looked at me like he was trying to fight a smile. “The kids like you. I saw them playing with you at the park.”
“A credit to my winning personality, no doubt,” I said flatly and pinched a blueberry off the top of my muffin.
Bray sat forward and folded his hands. “Tell me more about what happened at the house.”
I ate the blueberry and pretended to gaze off in thought. “Well, first we played a game where I was a penguin named Flips, and then—”
“Not with the kids. With Melanie.”
I smirked at him, knowing this was what he wanted but unable to resist reminding him what position he’d put me in. “She gave me a tour when I got there. Her office is the only room in the house with a lock on the door, so I’m sure that’s where anything useful will be. I would bet good money the whole house is decked out in nanny cams too. She’ll probably find out I overheard hernegotiatingwith her husband in his office, but hey, maybe they’re into exhibitionism. Rich people do weird shit.”
Bray arched a brow like he wanted to know more but was shy to ask.
“Her husband wanted to plan a ski trip for the family the weekend after next, and sheconvincedhim to go alone.” I drew out the word with an unsubtle implication. His face flushed a knowing shade of pink. “She said she was busy with the girls, which prompted him to get suspicious, but not really. I get the sense as long as she keeps him distracted and satisfied, he doesn’t ask too many questions.”
He nodded like this made sense. “And the body shop thing? Where did that come from?”
“When her husband was asking what she was always so busy with—late nights, last-minute plans, those types of things—he mentioned she sometimes comes home smelling like a body shop.”
“Interesting,” he said, and stroked his chin. “Did she say anything else?”
