“L” is the closest he’d ever come to saying Lucca, since it’s such an uncommon name and anyone listening would assume my name is Elle. But even with that precaution, Devon hardly ever addresses me directly, so I feel the weight behind it.
“I needed to know if she thought I was a random mark or if she knew I worked for him too. She didn’t, by the way. The surprise on her face was real. And it’s not like I discovered some big secret, since he already admitted to sending her.”
Devon’s pencil goes back to work, and he bounces his head to the assumed beat. “Smith’s greatest achievement is keeping everyone under him in line by keeping them blind to everything and everyone else in his organization. No one knows who he is, no one knows where they are in the chain.” Mr. Smith is the puzzle Devon has been working on for years.
“And the cops are aware of the name Evie Porter of Brookwood, Alabama,” I add in a near whisper, as if I’m confessing my sins.
This admission makes his face turn toward me. “Details?”
I fill him in on our visit to the Bernards’ house and the conversation with the police while he works diligently on the page in front of him.
When I finish, he says, “I don’t like this. I don’t like that I can’t see where this is going. I think we bail.”
This gives me pause. We have found ourselves in a lot of situations where a positive outcome seemed doubtful, but he’s never mentioned bailing before.
“And then what? We knew coming in he was pissed I didn’t get the blackmail info on Connolly back for him. We also knew he’s trying to determine if I actually was successful but kept everything for myself. If Mr. Smith wants to take me out, bailing won’t stop him, but it severely limits where I can go from here, especially now that Lucca Marino doesn’t exist anymore.”
“I still don’t like it,” he says. “You’re going to be a sitting duck while you wait for the next set of instructions. And what if they never come?”
“The only choice I have is to continue moving forward.” We both sit in silence for a minute or so, lost in our own thoughts. Then I ask, “How’s Heather?”
He ducks his head and I think he’s going to ignore me, but finally says, “Good. She’s good.”
“We stay the course, Devon. That’s the only answer.”
He hesitates just a moment, then says, “Got the details on the next big shipment coming through Glenview Trucking this Thursday. It’s in the People magazine in front of you.”
“Good. I think it will confuse Smith when he sees I’m still working this job, even after that woman’s death.” Somewhere between the first and second round of delivering the information on Ryan’s business to Mr. Smith, I was regretting the part I was playing. Maybe it was the daydreams that Ryan’s home could really be mine or the wishing this identity was real, but in a particularly weak moment, I altered a few key data points on the financials and client names before turning them over. It’s not enough that Mr. Smith would notice, but just enough to give Ryan a fighting chance at keeping his business.
I plan to make similar modifications to this latest set of information before passing it along.
Devon doesn’t know I’ve done this and I feel bad keeping it from him. He would think I was taking an unnecessary risk. “I’ll drop it by the mailbox on my way home.”
Devon’s head turns just slightly in my direction. “That’s not your home, L.”
I flinch at his words, then grab the magazine in front of me, shoving it in my bag. I pick up my cup and stand from my stool. “I’ll be in touch.”
Just as I start to walk away, he whispers, “Please be safe.”
Chapter 16
Present Day
After I got back from meeting with Devon, Ryan and I spent the evening stuffing ourselves on take-out food, binging Netflix, and trying to forget about how horrible the day was. The calls and texts from Ryan’s friends throughout the day became so incessant that he ended up powering off his phone, which is something he rarely does. Neither of us got much sleep, so this Monday morning it seems especially hard to get up and moving.
Even though Ryan is taking the next several days off, he’s still got a full day since he offered to help with the planning of James’s funeral. While I probably could have taken the day off as well, I don’t want to be available to visit the Bernards again, nor do I want to be forced to devise a way to disappear around lunch to meet back up with Devon.
I’m in the kitchen filling up a travel mug of coffee for each of us when Ryan starts down the stairs.
“I’m heading to the Bernards’ first with a few of the guys,” he says. “Mrs. Bernard wants us to help her contact his work and let them know what happened. Then we’re headed to the funeral home.”
“Yeah, I don’t envy you today.” I hand him his coffee and start packing my bag for the day. “Shoot, I left my phone on the charger upstairs.”
By the time I’m heading back down, Ryan is waiting by the door with his bag slung over his shoulder, his coffee mug in one hand and his keys in the other. “I shouldn’t be too late tonight.”
I grab my stuff from the chair. “Me either. Call me when you’re headed home and I’ll duck out early,” I say, then follow him to the garage.
Just before I reach the door of my 4Runner, Ryan pulls me in close and kisses me gently. “I’m dreading today,” he says quietly. “Is it terrible that I don’t want to go over there?”
I run a hand down the side of his face, then wrap my arm around his neck, holding him close to me. He buries his face into the side of my neck.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper in his ear. I can feel my phone buzzing in my purse, but I don’t let go of Ryan until he’s ready.
I’m not sure how long we stand there holding each other, but he finally pulls away, giving me one last kiss before he lets me go and moves to his car.
I’m getting in my car as he climbs into his. As the garage door opens, he nods for me to back out first. I start inching out of the garage since it’s a tight squeeze, watching my passenger side mirror to make sure I’m not going to scrape the door of his car.
As soon as I’m clear, I pull out my phone to give it a quick glance since I rarely get notifications of any kind. It’s a text from an unknown number and my heart starts racing. I’m sure Ryan is wondering why I’ve stopped halfway down the driveway.
I open the text.
Unknown number: 911
Shit. That’s my warning from Devon to get the hell out of here. I look up to find Ryan is stepping out of his car, his attention drawn to the street behind me.
I check my rearview mirror, afraid of what I will see there.
Three police cars have pulled up behind me, blocking us both in.
It only takes a few seconds to realize there’s no getting past them. It also occurs to me that had I not lingered with Ryan in the garage, I would have seen Devon’s text as soon as I received it. Those few minutes may have cost me a clean getaway.
Ryan is out of his car and moving to my door, attempting to open it, but the car is locked since I’m still in reverse. I do a quick mental inventory as to what is in this car that could possibly get me in trouble, but know that there’s nothing.
He knocks on the window. “Evie, open up.” His eyes track the approaching officers.
With slow and deliberate movements, I put the car in park and cut the engine. The second Ryan hears the lock disengage, he opens my door and pulls me out.
His face is wiped free of expression. Even though I didn’t see him while he was talking to that rogue employee, I imagine this is what his face looked like then.
Does he think they are here for him because they have discovered his activities in East Texas? I do appreciate the sentiment when he steps between me and the cops, but the text from Devon tells me they are here for me and he can’t save me from what’s about to happen.
“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “I’ll handle this.”
He does think they are here for him.