by Tabatha Kiss
I lean back against my fridge. “Okay, well… we’ll figure it out.”
“How? I have no money. I have no space for this. We need—”
“Caleb, calm down,” I say. “I’m going to take care of us. You’re barely pregnant, remember? We have time.”
My phone vibrates. I twist my wrist to read the text message.
Order up!
“Look, Caleb, I gotta run but we’ll talk more later. Okay?”
“Okay, be safe.” She sighs. “I love you.”
I clear my throat. “I love you, too.”
“Super safe.”
I smile. “I will.”
“Stay with Fox.”
“I will.”
The call ends but I keep the silent phone to my ear for another minute.
Oh, God.
What the hell am I doing?
I’m going to be a father. It’s hasn’t even been a whole day yet. I haven’t had time to stop and consider exactly what being a father requires.
We really are so screwed.
I look over at Fox again. His smug smile is gone. He’s never been the I-told-you-so type but he still stares back at me with sympathy.
I drop my phone into my bag and throw it over my shoulder again. “I’m gonna go meet Milo,” I say to the room. “You guys stay here.”
Lilah shoots up off the couch. “Hold on. You’re not going by yourself.”
“I’m a big boy. I’ll be fine,” I say with rolling eyes.
“Yeah, I’m not concerned. I’m suspicious.”
“Lilah…” Dante warns with a protective hand on Lucy’s thigh.
“How do we know he’s not going to run downstairs and call the police?” she asks.
“Call the police?” I repeat. “And send them here? Where I keep all the evidence to every heist I’ve ever pulled? Come on.”
Fox stands up. “I’ll go with him.”
“Uh, no,” Lilah argues. “He’s on your team.”
“Love, we’re all on the same team here,” Archer says.
“Lilah, cool it,” Dante says, still steady as a rock.
She inhales to argue with him but Archer stands up in front of her.
“I’ll go with him,” he says. “Will that make you feel better?”
She squints, still angry but she backs off. “Yeah, okay.”
Archer smirks and walks toward me while rubbing his palms together. “Team Sparky, together again,” he says. “This should be fun.”
I chuckle. “I don’t know, man. The last time we teamed up, you started banging the target like a week later. You’re not gonna fall in love with Milo, are you?”
His head tilts. “Is he pretty?”
“Archer,” Lilah growls.
He spins around and holds up his hands. “No worries, love. We’ll be back before you know it.”
I look at Fox and he gives me a nod. “Back soon,” I say.
Archer and I step out into the hallway and I pause to input my code.
“Sorry about Lilah, mate,” he says. “I get the feeling she doesn’t like you all that much.”
“That’s okay,” I say, flashing a smile. “Caleb doesn’t like you either.”
He frowns. “What? Really?”
I start down the hallway toward the stairs. “Really.”
“Why doesn’t Caleb like me?” he asks. “Women love me. I’ve got the accent, the wavey, blond hair, the chiseled jawline…”
“And all of that is supposed to impress Caleb Fawn how?” I ask.
He blinks. “I see your point.”
We pick up our pace down the stairs, politely passing a few nameless neighbors as we go. I hold open the door at the bottom and Archer steps outside onto the busy Boston street.
“And besides,” I say. “Why do you care if she doesn’t like you? You and Lilah seem pretty committed.”
“We do?” he asks.
“I mean, I’m no expert on relationships, but hooking up in airplane bathrooms seems pretty high on the commitment ladder.”
He winces. “Was it that obvious?”
“Little bit.”
“Balls,” he murmurs. “To answer your question, there’s no crime in wanting to be well-liked. Especially by beautiful women.”
“Beautiful women you never ever have a chance with?” I ask.
He twists in my direction. “Says who?”
“Uh, me,” I answer. “Her husband.”
“You think I don’t have a chance with your wife?”
I pause my stride and turn to look into his joking eyes. “Archer, I have a better chance of stealing Lilah from you than you have of ever sleeping with Caleb.”
“Bullshit.”
“You wanna bet?”
He squints. “No. I don’t much care for taking candy from babies.”
“Good, because I have a pretty iron-clad policy against sticking my dick in crazy.”
Archer shakes his head as we start forward again. “Lilah ain’t crazy, mate. She’s just misunderstood.”
“Aren’t we all?” I exhale, turning serious. “How’s she doing?”
He hesitates, his eyes wandering along the crowd passing us by. “Hell, I don’t know…” he says. “How would you be if your twin were gunned down in front of you?”
“Not good.”
Archer nods. “Just when I think she might be dealing with it, she pushes it a little further down.”
“Kinky,” I joke.
He glares at me but his lips curl.
“I know. I’m an ass.” We pause at a crosswalk. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “Elijah wasn’t exactly high on the list of people I’m cool with but… I can empathize with her. That’s rough.”
“Thank you,” he says. “And how’s Caleb?” His hand twitches downward. “How’s she dealing with the whole, you know, being a mum?”
The light changes and we continue across the street.
“Well…” I say. “She’s not happy about being benched because of it, that’s for sure.”
“Honestly, I half-expected you to stay home, too.”
“Really?”
“I would have,” he says. “If there were even a small chance I’d leave my child fatherless, I would piss right off.”
I taste bile in my throat. “Wow. Thanks, Arch.”
“Just being honest, mate.”
“Anything else you want me to feel like crap about today?”
He pats my shoulder. “Boxcar, you’re doing what you feel is best for your wife and child. Fuck all what anybody else thinks. Furthermore, I admire your choice. It was the stronger decision, one that I could never make myself.”
I let it sink in. “Oh.”
He smiles. “So, where are we headed?” he asks as he looks around.
“He’s usually parked around the corner here,” I say, pointing straight ahead.
“Parked?”
We turn the corner and I smile at the taco truck on the other end of the street.
“There he is,” I say.
Archer reads the side of the truck as we walk closer. “Hot Sauce?” he asks.
“Yep.”
“It’s a taco truck, mate.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Your man works in a taco truck named Hot Sauce?”
“He owns it,” I answer. “Best damn steak burrito in town.”
His lips twitch. “It’s a front, isn’t it?”
I snap my fingers. “Bingo. Sell tacos and burritos out the front to the public. Run money, stolen goods, and other fun things out the back for the Irish mob. The truck makes it so he’s constantly moving, always inconspicuous, and never suspected.”
He laughs quietly. “I knew a bloke in Sheffield who did the same thing back in my MI-6 days.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Except he sold pasties.”
I smirk. “Big market for nipple covers in England?”
“No, you stupid American,” he bites.
“I’m kidding, Arch. I know what a
pasty is.”
He sighs. “Bloody hell.”
We approach the truck and I look up to see a familiar face poking out the window. He chats up an adorable blonde while a short line lingers nearby, waiting to be served.
Milo Murray. Short, brown hair and a permanent smirk. Whatever he’s dishing out this girl is taking, but that’s always been easy for him and his multi-colored eyes to pull off.
After a moment, he looks over at me and grins.
“Boxcar!” he shouts.
I raise my hand. “Hey, Milo.”
He reaches down and gently nudges the girl’s chin, making her blush as he whispers something for her ears only. She walks off and his eyes jump from me to Archer as he waves us to the front of the line.
“What can I get for you?” he asks.
“Just the special I called in for,” I say.
He tilts his head at Archer. “What’s with the bodyguard? Who’d you piss off this time?”
“Nobody. This is my friend, Archer. He’s cool. Archer, this is Milo.”
“Hello,” Archer says.
Milo’s jaw drops. “A Brit?”
“Yes.”
He dips his head, staring down at us over his sunglasses with suspicion. “A cool Brit?”
Archer furrows his brow. “Yes,” he says again.
“I’m just fuckin’ with ya.” He grins and waves at us again. “Come on back.”
I step around the blushing blonde and walk to the backside of the truck. Archer follows behind me, his face piqued with interest and amusement.
Milo stands by the door with his hands in his jean pockets beneath a dirty, white apron.
“I must say,” he begins, “this was not the order I expect when I get a call from you, Box. Who’s the girl?”
“Just a friend,” I answer, vaguely.
“Last we spoke, it was computer bugs and worms and all that.” He leans forward. “You’re not… trafficking this girl, are you?”
“What?” I blink. “No!”
“Because I have a very strict line for what I allow my work to be used for.”
“She just needs to get out of town for a while,” I say. “Same as us, so… if you don’t mind…”
His eyes jut toward Archer. “You running from somebody? Who?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, man.”
He laughs. “Sounds about right.” He leans back into the truck and grabs a paper to-go bag from a lower cabinet. “Same day rush delivery. I think you’ll find the sauce hot and satisfying, as usual.”
I reach for the bag. “Thanks, man. I’ll get the money wired to you soon.”
Milo pulls it back. “Soon?”
“You know I’m good for it, Milo.”
He eyes Archer again. “Didn’t you just pull that hotel job? Paying for this should be drop in your bucket.”
“I did,” I say with a nervous nod, “and it is, but that money is kind of claimed at the moment. I need to move it around a little. I’ll get back to you.”
He furrows his brow. “Since when are you so fiscally conservative?”
I sigh. “Since I ran across the country to save my wife who I haven’t seen for two years from a bunch of assassins who shot me which turned out to be not that bad because it brought us back together but now she’s pregnant and I’m not sure how the hell we’re going to afford it so I need some time to move some money around, okay?”
Milo leans back, his eyes widening more and more with each word that tumbles out of my mouth.
Finally, his throat clears. “I have questions,” he says.
I rub the bridge of my nose beneath my glasses. “Yeah, I know.”
“But I can sense you’re going through kind of a rough patch, so I’ll just…”
He slowly shifts forward and drops the paper sack into my hands.
“Thanks, Milo,” I say.
I peek into the bag, finding a brand-new passport and Lucy’s photo ID inside.
“I know you’re good for it,” he says with a shrug. “And I know that you know the kind of company I keep so I know I don’t have to worry about you stiffing me…”
I hand the bag off to Archer and he checks it with continued interest.
“I just need a few days,” I say. “No need to send your people after me.”
“Good.”
“But we have time for a cup of coffee and a cupcake, if you want to ask some of those questions. I owe you that much.”
He shakes his head. “Can’t.”
I look at the line wrapping around the front of the truck. “Right. You should probably get back to your tacos. Want us to bring you something back?”
“No, I mean. You can’t,” he says. “Muffin Top got shut down.”
I gasp. “What? Why?”
“The mob shot it up last week,” he explains. “The guy running it closed it for repairs. Doing a total remodel.”
“No cherry-cherry cupcakes?” I pout.
He shrugs sadly. “No cherry-cherry cupcakes.”
I frown. “Dammit. This whole trip feels like a waste now.” Archer nudges my arm. “Anyway… we have places to be.”
Milo shakes my hand. “Take care of yourself, Boxcar.”
“I will.”
He extends his hand toward Archer. “And you… take care of Boxcar. He owes me money.”
Archer sighs. “I’m not a bodyguard, mate.”
Milo snickers. “Mate.”
We turn around and walk off, leaving Milo to tend to his truck. I pound the pavement, beelining forward across the street.
“Oh, Boxcar.”
I glance up at Archer beside me. “What?”
He strides in front of me, stopping me in my tracks, and towers over me with a wise, knowing stare. “How are you really feeling about being a father?” he asks.
“I’m fine,” I say quickly.
His brow arches.
“Really. I’m fine. I’m excited.” I pause. “Or I was this morning.”
“What changed?”
“Reality sunk in,” I say. “I mean, Caleb has no savings and a lot of debt. I’ve never had a real job. The only way I know how to make money is by stealing it, which she would not approve of. So, how the hell am I going to support a family?”
“You get a job,” he says.
“How? With what resume? With what work experience?”
Archer laughs. “Boxcar, you are the most talented hacker I’ve ever met. You forget that I used to work in intelligence, so me saying that means something. You will have no trouble finding a legit job.”
I run a hand through my hair, roughing it out of place. “And I don’t want to live in Los Angeles,” I admit. “It’s hot and crowded. And… dirty.”
He nods. “Gotta agree with you there.”
“I don’t know how to tell her that. How do I ask Caleb Fawn to drop everything she’s built for herself because I think sand is a little overrated?”
“Sounds like you need to sit down with Caleb and talk it out.”
I shake my head. “I can’t suddenly come home with doubts after convincing her that everything was going to be okay. I’m gonna screw it up. Just like always.”
“Well…” He chews on his lip. “If you want my opinion…”
“Yes. Please.”
“You want this child, yes?” he asks.
“Yes,” I answer. “Of course, I do.”
“And she wants it, too?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“And you’re happily married?”
“For now,” I joke from the edge of my mouth.
“Then, this child is officially far better off than I ever was.” He leans in. “Forget about what you don’t have, Boxcar, and take a moment to stop and appreciate what you do have. Believe me when I say that what you have is worth more than the dollars in your bank — or lack thereof. You took a bullet for this woman. I think you’re way past the awkward stage of the relationship, Sparky. Talk to her.”
I b
link. “Wow.”
“What?”
“If you can’t get Caleb to sleep with you, I probably will.”
He rolls his eyes and turns around with the paper sack clenched in one hand. “Come on.”
“No, really,” I say, following behind him. “You’re totally right about that accent. If I wore panties, they’d be around my ankles right now.”
“I assume your jovial tone means you value my opinion?” he asks.
“I do.” I tap his shoulder, stopping him. “Thank you, Archer. I really needed to hear that.”
“You’re welcome.” He gestures forward. “Now, let’s get back before Lilah gets bored and kills someone.”
I wince. “Speaking of the awkward stage of the relationship.”
Archer shakes his head. “You have no idea.”
Sixteen
Dani
ROXIE ROBERTS MISSING.
Well, this isn’t good.
I adjust the baseball cap on my head as I focus an ear toward the TV mounted on the wall behind the cash register. This was supposed to be a quick trip in and out to grab snacks and caffeine for the road. I didn’t expect the media to catch wind of my latest disappearing act so quickly.
“LAPD officers are asking for any witnesses to come forward concerning the sudden disappearance of actress Roxie Roberts and the murder of her assistant, Lena Wilde,” the reporter reads aloud. “Ms. Wilde was discovered late last night in a theatre storage room with two gunshot wounds to the head. This marks the second time Ms. Roberts has gone missing this year and conspiracy theorists are already linking this horrific event to the terrorist organization known as Snake Eyes.”
I sigh. “Oh, boy...”
I should get out of here while the guy at the register is practically glued to the TV. Hopefully he’s so entranced, he doesn’t bother to look up as he rings in my candy and soda.
I lay the items on the counter and the guy turns in my direction, giving me nothing more than a passive nod before tapping away at the register with his attentions still locked on the screen.
“Please, I’m begging you, Roxie...”
My ears twitch at my father’s familiar voice. I raise my head to look at him. He stands in a huddle of reporters with microphones surrounding his head from all angles. I almost don’t recognize him. He was always the fit, clean-shaven type but he’s clearly let himself go in the few weeks since I last saw him.