I sighed, exasperated. “So it’s a dead-end then.” The reality of our uselessness began to sink in. “And I think it’s time to call the authorities. We have no idea what we’re doing. And Grant is depending on us.”
“Whoa, slow down there,” Sloan said. “You owe that snarky, lying intern nothing. We’re doing this to get your job back.”
“But that’s the point, we aren’t doing anything. We’re just spinning our wheels.” I stared into my mug, beginning to sulk. “And now we have no leads, either.”
“Again, hold on. I never said all that.”
I glanced up, trying to read her face. Coy, as usual. “What does that mean?”
“I said I believed he doesn’t know anything about Grant.” Sloan picked up her coffee. “I said nothing about it being a dead end.”
I sat silently, waiting. Staring. I knew her games by now.
Finally she gave up. She let slip a little smile and her mouth opened to speak. But then promptly shut again as her eyes caught on something.
“What the . . . heck?” She stared behind me, fascinated.
I turned to follow her gaze. A flurry of pink, rainbow, bleach blond and feathers was shuffling up the aisle, head down, kitchen doors swinging in their wake. Enormous black hi-top Chuck Taylor tennis shoes made their way toward us, incongruous with the rest of the frilly spectacle.
I tried to process the figure that came to a stop at the head of our table. A long-sleeved pink leotard and tutu clung to what was clearly a man’s frame. Below, rainbow leg warmers covered dark hairy legs. Above, multicolored boa feathers floated around the semi-muscular shoulders straining against the tutu material.
The stringy blonde wig atop the disconcerting sight shifted, finally allowing us a view of the figure’s face. The thick dark eyebrows and straight white teeth were unmistakable. A clearly embarrassed Sayid lifted his eyes to us and gazed back, silent.
Sloan’s eyebrows raised as she continued to gawk. “You look like Big Bird from my tween nightmares.”
He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Go ahead. Get it out of your system.”
“No offense, Sayid. But you make a very ugly woman. Without any makeup, anyway. You could’ve at least asked for some help.”
“It’s not a lifestyle choice, I promise,” he said through gritted teeth.
“So you’re not trying to get in on the covert work, too?” Sloan continued, amused. “Because I hate to tell you, but there are better ways to go undercover. You’re sort of missing the point.”
“So hilarious,” he grumbled. “None of this is my choice. Believe me.”
“Then why are you doing it?” I asked, desperately curious.
Sayid averted his eyes, his face now reddening. “I’m pledging. And someone asked me to.”
“Pledging, huh?” Sloan said. “So by that, you mean hazing. Isn’t that not allowed anymore, or something?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Not hazing. Just . . . playing around. Goofing off.”
“Right,” I said. “You look like you’re having a blast.”
He looked away again, shuffling his foot against the tile. “It’s only for a few days.”
“Well, I hope they’re worth it,” Sloan said, her face skeptical. “Personally, I don’t believe in friends who enjoy tormenting me.”
“Depends on your definition of torment.” I flashed her my own skeptical look. “I do believe you’ve been known to have a little fun at others’ expense.”
“Not the same at all,” she said, aghast. “That’s actual fun. Not mean-spirited torture.”
Sayid shook his head. “I’m fine. And it’s all I want. Then I’ll be part of the crew.” His chin lifted a little. “I just have to get through this first.”
“Uh oh,” Sloan said, straightening as she stared behind me once again. “Incoming.”
Who now? I turned to see Lucas charging through the front door, brow furrowed. His expression evolved as he moved closer, anger morphing into confusion. He slowed as he approached, getting a read on the strange figure before us.
His hesitation was abandoned when Sayid turned his way. A wide grin split his face. “What the heck happened here?”
Sayid’s head dropped again.
Lucas took a step closer to inspect. “Sayid?” He reached up to pull back a strand of long synthetic hair, revealing a red, grimacing face. “Anything new with you I should know?”
Sayid’s lips pressed tight together as he took a deep breath. He kept his eyes solidly on the floor. “Nope.”
“Ok, man.” He let the hair drop. “Cool either way. You do you.”
Sayid rolled his eyes, clearly biting his tongue.
“Be nice, Lucas,” Sloan chastised.
“I’m being supportive,” Lucas argued, smirking. “How was I not nice?”
“Anyway,” Sayid mumbled. “Dottie said this would be my new uniform if I didn’t come out here to say hello. So now that we’ve all seen the show, I can get back to work.”
We watched him lumber back down the aisle and squeeze his tutu through the swinging doors. Dottie’s uneven cackle echoed from the back as he disappeared into the kitchen.
Lucas turned to us, eyebrows raised in question. “Should I ask?”
I shrugged. “Stupid fraternity stuff.”
“Frats.” Lucas cringed. “Never got that.”
“Good thing,” Sloan said. “Because they’d never get you, either. But please be sure you don’t make fun of him. You know he worships you.”
Lucas glanced toward the kitchen, his eyebrows giving a little twitch of consideration. “Well, that’s his own poor decision.” He turned back, eyes now twinkling. “One of many, it seems.”
He shoved himself into the seat next to Sloan. “But at least someone is using a disguise,” he continued, his amusement rapidly disappeared, “unlike some people I know.” He glared at both of us. “People who promised to not only stay under cover, but to stay out of their normal lives. Surely no one would think to find you two here, huh?”
For once, Sloan looked sheepish. “It’s just a quick visit, since we were already out of cover,” she offered weakly. “Disguises go back on for good as soon as we head home. Promise.”
He scoffed. “I’ve heard that before. Earlier today, I believe.” He glanced toward the door. “How did you even get away with that, anyway?”
Sloan perked up a little, proud of her persuasive abilities. “I convinced our driver he can use it to check for tails. If someone’s looking for us here, they’ll figure out who. He’s on stakeout.”
Lucas rolled his eyes. “And I hear you already had your own little ‘operation,’ as you like to call it.” He grabbed the coffee from Sloan’s hand. “Visiting Salvatore in prison doesn’t sound much like staying out of your normal life, either.”
“No operation,” Sloan said, flippant. “Just a chat. And Sal is definitely not part of my normal life.” She yanked the coffee back from Lucas's hands mid-sip. “But finding her co-worker is my life right now. The only thing we’re concerned with.”
Lucas stared her down.
She was unfazed. “You said no questions, remember? We do what we want.”
He gave only a frustrated groan in response.
“So, just curious,” she continued, now playing nonchalant. “Obviously Sal’s in jail, as are most of his guys. But what about his boss?”
Lucas glanced up, studying her face a moment. “What do you mean?” He glanced to me, looking for answers. “What boss?”
I shrugged. I had no idea where she was going.
“Far as I know,” he finally said, his words careful, measured, “Sal’s in charge.” He sat back and propped an arm across the back of the seat, ropes of thick-but-not-too-thick muscles popping out of his black t-shirt. “Has been for a couple years now. Why?”
“Right, of course. He’s the boss.” Sloan fidgeted with her napkin. “But somebody’s gotta take over now, I figure. Since he’s out of commission and all.”
“We’re not sure if anyone has stepped up yet,” Lucas said. “So far it looks pretty chaotic. You’ve taken them down pretty good.” Concern edged into his face. “Why do you ask?”
Sloan bit her lip a moment, thinking.
His eyes softened. “Are you worried about who might be after you?”
Sloan hesitated. “Yes.” She let out a heavy sigh. “I guess that’s it.”
“Good,” Lucas replied, coldly. His face turned hard again as he straightened, his casual posture abandoned. “You should be worried. Maybe now you’ll get it.” He turned to gaze at me across the table. “That goes for both of you.”
I withered under his gaze. I didn’t believe Sloan’s little scared act for a second, but he could certainly intimidate me. And he has a point, doesn’t he?
“You’re right,” Sloan replied solemnly, giving him a direct look. “We’ll take it seriously.”
She picked up the large bag on the seat next to her and shoved her shoulder into Lucas. “Now let me out.”
He slid out of the booth and offered his hand to her. She ignored it and hoisted the bag onto her arm as she emerged.
“But first I just have one final loose end to tie up,” she said. “I have to get changed for my date.”
She twirled and strolled into the back hallway toward the restrooms, Lucas staring in her wake. He finally turned and directed his glare toward me. Boy, he’s good at that death look.
“Date?” he spat. His green eyes bore into me. “What is she talking about?”
I gulped. The accountant from the other day had just walked in and was strolling up the aisle toward us. I didn’t want to be in the middle of it. Whatever it was.
“Quinn, right?” The man approached with a friendly smile and reached his hand out, his formal manner matching his tailored navy sport coat and khaki slacks. “Sloan’s friend?”
I returned a quick shake. “Yes, good to see you. She’ll be right out.” I glanced at Lucas, unsure how to proceed. “I’m just gonna . . . go see if she needs anything.”
I scurried toward the back before he could stop me. But I froze just around the bend when I heard voices resume. The two men were interacting. And I had to know.
With only a momentary twinge of guilt, I slid silently to the corner to listen.
“Sloan’s date, huh?” Lucas said, his voice lightly tinged with hostility. I pictured him looking the guy up and down. “You’re not exactly her normal type.”
“Guess I’m just lucky, then,” Christopher replied cheerfully, trying to diffuse the situation. “We go way back. And you are?”
“A big problem.” Heavy-soled shoes stepped forward. “For you. If you so much as look at her the wrong way.”
Christopher’s voice became uneasy. “Ok, man. You, like, her brother or something?”
“Or something.” Light hostility was replaced with icy venom. “Man. Just keep your hands off, show her the pleasant, boring evening I’m sure you excel at, and then say goodnight.”
There was a long pause. Finally Christopher’s voice reemerged, now very quiet. “You got it.”
“Then I think we’ll get along just fine.” Lucas's tone became overly smooth and easy-going. “But if you know Sloan, you understand you never really know who’s in the shadows. So watch your back.”
After another long pause, I heard the boots again, headed for the door. I was dying to see Christopher’s face, but knew I would surely be caught peeking. I had done enough snooping for today.
I turned for the restroom, hoping my face wasn’t red with guilt. Sloan emerged before I could reach it, looking amazing in a summery spaghetti-strapped dress.
“You look great,” I threw out quickly, hoping to head off any show of surprise from her that would give me away to Christopher. I spun on my heels to return, as if I had been with her the whole time.
She flashed me a smile as we turned the corner to find a pale-faced Christopher. Sloan didn’t seem to notice. Despite his appearance, he pretended nothing had happened. Cheerful and polite, just as before.
After quick goodbyes, they took off, leaving me to mull what I’d seen while I nursed my coffee. I was stumped. And I daresay, disappointed?
No, that couldn’t be it.
Maybe Sloan is mistaken. Perhaps the protectiveness Lucas always displayed was not simply family protectiveness, as she believed. Maybe that annoyingly sexy display I’d just witnessed was a sign . . . he was in love with her.
He could’ve fallen for his brother’s fiancé in his absence. Loss brings people closer. It happens.
And if true, could Sloan feel the same, deep down?
Maybe I would need a slice of pie, too, just for good measure.
FIFTEEN
After a quick survey of my new room in the safe house, all set up and partially unpacked for me in my absence, I was ready to wash the day off and pass out. New homes, new identities, new objectives. And no real privacy. It was all a little much at once.
At least my new personal space was nice and cozy. And utterly devoid of security personnel. There was even an old fireplace to add hominess.
But what thrilled me at the moment was the en-suite bathroom, complete with vintage clawfoot tub. I quickly undressed and headed in to try a long soak. It was a luxury not afforded to me as a student with cramped, shared spaces for many years. Almost eight, to be exact.
Within minutes steam filled the room and I felt myself begin to relax. It would be a welcome change.
Tub almost full, I surveyed the room for toiletries. Nada. The security guys had neglected to empty bathroom essentials. I stepped from the fog to eye the towering stack of unopened cartons in the corner of the bedroom. I was less than enthusiastic at the prospect of going through them. It was not the time to dig.
I flipped off the faucet and stared at the water in the tub, swishing and splashing, inviting me to ignore my missing bath products. Just this once. I dipped a toe into the warm water. It felt nice.
Who needs soap?
Just as I stepped into the tub, I noted the sudden lack of silence. I could’ve sworn everything had been quiet a moment ago. There was now a hum in the empty house.
It was water, coming from next door. The shower. Sloan had arrived home early.
I grabbed a towel from the rack and wrapped myself in it as I crossed the bedroom, on a mission. Sloan’s door next to mine stood open. Her own luxurious bathroom lay just beyond the large bedroom, also with matching fireplace. She had won the coin toss for the master suite. The shower was nicer.
There was a thump from across the room, then the hum disappeared. The house was hushed again. Only quiet drips remained. Perfect timing. I rushed to the closed bathroom door and knocked hurriedly, now shivering in my towel.
After a few seconds the door yanked open, warming me instantly with a wall of steam. But gazing back through the haze was not Sloan. It was a glistening god.
Lucas stood in the doorway, hands busy tucking the corner of a plush white towel slung low across his hips. Beads of moisture clung across his torso, muscles gleaming. He reached to run a hand through his messy wet chestnut hair, shaking out moisture. I stood mute, watching.
After a long moment I gathered myself together and took stock of my unwitting reaction. I clamped my gaping jaw firmly shut and took a deep breath. But I couldn’t quite remember what I was supposed to say. Why am I here again?
Lucas gazed back at me directly, the darkened wet hair making his emerald eyes glow more intensely. “Just hopped out, so you’re a little late.” His smirk was mischievous. “But I could probably be persuaded.”
Reason returned rapidly as heat rushed to my face. Who does he think he is? My mouth made incohe
rent noise as I stumbled over my words for a response.
Lucas wet his grinning lips as he stared back, clearly amused by my fluster. He said nothing. Just let me flounder in front of him.
Finally his chuckle broke the awkwardness. “Relax, kid. I’m just playing.” He moved to paw again at his hair in the fogged mirror before looking back at me, one eyebrow raised. “Unless maybe . . . I’m not the one you were hoping to catch?”
That’s it. He was toying with me, trying to shake me on purpose. “Maybe that would be preferable,” I snapped back, my voice returned. “But I’m just here for the shampoo.”
He paused, seeming to notice my own towel-attired state for the first time. My stomach dropped as his eyes did a quick once-over. I did not own oversized towels. He suppressed a quick grin before averting his eyes and turning toward the shower. “Anything else?”
“Soap would be nice,” I called to him. “What are you doing in here, anyway?”
He returned with bottles of shampoo, conditioner and bodywash. “You forget this was my hideout first. It’s usually my room, on the occasion I need one. But I’m happy to be a gentleman.” He glanced at the labels as he handed them over. “Hopefully this’ll do?”
“It’s great,” I mumbled, turning to flee, bottles pressed to my chest as protection. “Thanks.”
Lucas leaned casually against the doorframe, watching my hasty escape. His voice was teasing as he called behind me. “Be just down the hall if you need me.”
***
The nerve of that man.
My annoyance and, I must say, embarrassment at the scene the evening before had occupied me through the night and was invading my fresh-start morning. Although I had to admit, tossing and turning over something other than the mob-related mess I had created was a welcome change.
Without a clue as to what a day in this new and hopefully temporary life would hold, I emerged from my room and headed downstairs. I was immediately assaulted by a heavenly aroma filling the first floor. Breakfast.
But my momentary dreams of coffee and fresh-cooked bacon were quickly halted. My appetite dropped away when I entered the kitchen. Lucas stood at the sizzling stove, spatula in hand.
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