Becoming Rain
Page 87
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Unless it’s serious.
“Sorry, I need to grab this. I was waiting for my mom to call.” I step over Licks and Stanley, curled up on what I’d now call the communal bed, and move to where Luke won’t hear the male voice on the line.
“Hi.”
“Can you talk?” Warner’s gruff tone fills my ear.
“Yeah.”
“We’ve got a big problem.” He sighs. “24’s body was found this morning.”
I turn toward the kitchen, away from Luke, so he can’t see the color drain from my face. “Why am I just hearing about this now?”
“Because I just found out an hour ago. I was waiting for Sinclair to make a call on our next move.”
Shit . . . “How bad?”
“Bad. Execution-style, in a black SUV. But he was obviously roughed up beforehand. The kind of roughed up when someone’s trying to get answers. I think this may have something to do with the Russians and this other deal.”
“No shit.”
Luke snorts in the background. I glance over my shoulder at him to find him staring at me in disbelief. “You talk like that to your mother?”
I turn away, feeling like I’m about to vomit. Luke’s listening to my conversation. I need to be careful what I say. “So what happens next?”
“Well, at first Sinclair was ready to bring 12 in and give him the hot-lamp treatment.”
“No!”
“He changed his mind. We don’t have 12 on anything solid. It’s better to see where his head’s at after he finds out. He may sing like a little choirboy. I just called Franky and Rix so they know. They’re listening in on this all right now. I’ve got more reinforcements coming. We need around-the-clock surveillance.”
“Is that the best choice?” I’m struggling to make my answers ambiguous to Luke but clear to Warner. “Is that the safest option?”
“It’s the only option right now because it’s what Sinclair has ordered. You need to stay on 12. Have your gun on you at all times.”
“How?”
“I don’t care how. Figure it out. If we lose 12 too, this case is dead.”
Lose Luke. I can’t even think about that without feeling a sharp pain piercing my heart. “Okay. Yeah, definitely. How long before . . .” Before Luke’s happy, oblivious bubble is crushed.
“Uniforms just pulled into his building. 12’s marked as his next-of-kin.”
Of course he is. And that’s why Warner called now. He had no other choice.
“Keep them from asking too many questions. We can’t let the locals fuck up this case for us.”
“Got it.”
“You can do this.”
“I’ll talk to you later, Mom.” I force myself to take a few breaths before I turn around. “Hey, sorry about that.” I can’t keep the shake from my voice.
Luke stands, frowning. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just . . . just some procedure my dad’s having done next week.”
“Is it serious?”
I swallow against the bitter taste of my lies. “As any surgery is.”
Luke pulls me into his side and kisses the tip of my nose. “He’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
“Thanks.”
Leading me back to the couch, he waves the remote toward the screen. “I’ll even watch this if it’ll make you feel better.” He has a sappy Nicholas Sparks movie highlighted.
I manage a laugh, which quickly morphs into tears. Why the hell am I crying? I’m an undercover cop and a criminal got himself killed doing illegal shit! I don’t care about Rust!
But I do care for Luke.
This is going to crush him.
Knowing that breaks the last of my defenses and suddenly the tears are flowing down my cheeks. For Luke, for what he’s about to go through. For the anguish of replaying what his uncle’s final minutes might have been like. Not the uncle who led a car theft ring. The one who raised him the way a loving father raises a son.
Wiping them away with the back of my hand, I manage to get out, “Nicholas Sparks movies don’t make me feel better.”
“Okay, I’m sorry.” Luke takes turns brushing and kissing away the steady stream. “What else do you want to do?” He glances out the window. “It’s raining outside. We could go run around in the park?” He pauses. “Naked?”
I burrow my face in the crook of his neck and he wraps his arms around me, his chuckles soothing.
That’s what makes the severe knock on the door that much worse.
“Million-dollar condos and security doesn’t screen anyone, do they? I’m sorry.”
I trail him over, nearly stepping on his heels. He checks the peephole and his face pales.
“Who is it?”
A momentary flash of him opening the door and Vlad being there with guns aimed hits me. With Rix and Franky watching, I know that’s not likely. Still . . .
He looks at me, worry etched over his face. “It’s the cops.”
Another second and another knock on the door.
Finally, he opens it. And steps back. I know what he’s thinking. That they’re here to take him in. I almost wonder if that would be better.
“Are you Luka Xavier Boone?”
He folds his arms across his chest. “Yeah.”
I stand three feet away and watch as the storm—the rain I’ve been trying to save him from—hits Luke.
“Sorry, I need to grab this. I was waiting for my mom to call.” I step over Licks and Stanley, curled up on what I’d now call the communal bed, and move to where Luke won’t hear the male voice on the line.
“Hi.”
“Can you talk?” Warner’s gruff tone fills my ear.
“Yeah.”
“We’ve got a big problem.” He sighs. “24’s body was found this morning.”
I turn toward the kitchen, away from Luke, so he can’t see the color drain from my face. “Why am I just hearing about this now?”
“Because I just found out an hour ago. I was waiting for Sinclair to make a call on our next move.”
Shit . . . “How bad?”
“Bad. Execution-style, in a black SUV. But he was obviously roughed up beforehand. The kind of roughed up when someone’s trying to get answers. I think this may have something to do with the Russians and this other deal.”
“No shit.”
Luke snorts in the background. I glance over my shoulder at him to find him staring at me in disbelief. “You talk like that to your mother?”
I turn away, feeling like I’m about to vomit. Luke’s listening to my conversation. I need to be careful what I say. “So what happens next?”
“Well, at first Sinclair was ready to bring 12 in and give him the hot-lamp treatment.”
“No!”
“He changed his mind. We don’t have 12 on anything solid. It’s better to see where his head’s at after he finds out. He may sing like a little choirboy. I just called Franky and Rix so they know. They’re listening in on this all right now. I’ve got more reinforcements coming. We need around-the-clock surveillance.”
“Is that the best choice?” I’m struggling to make my answers ambiguous to Luke but clear to Warner. “Is that the safest option?”
“It’s the only option right now because it’s what Sinclair has ordered. You need to stay on 12. Have your gun on you at all times.”
“How?”
“I don’t care how. Figure it out. If we lose 12 too, this case is dead.”
Lose Luke. I can’t even think about that without feeling a sharp pain piercing my heart. “Okay. Yeah, definitely. How long before . . .” Before Luke’s happy, oblivious bubble is crushed.
“Uniforms just pulled into his building. 12’s marked as his next-of-kin.”
Of course he is. And that’s why Warner called now. He had no other choice.
“Keep them from asking too many questions. We can’t let the locals fuck up this case for us.”
“Got it.”
“You can do this.”
“I’ll talk to you later, Mom.” I force myself to take a few breaths before I turn around. “Hey, sorry about that.” I can’t keep the shake from my voice.
Luke stands, frowning. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just . . . just some procedure my dad’s having done next week.”
“Is it serious?”
I swallow against the bitter taste of my lies. “As any surgery is.”
Luke pulls me into his side and kisses the tip of my nose. “He’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
“Thanks.”
Leading me back to the couch, he waves the remote toward the screen. “I’ll even watch this if it’ll make you feel better.” He has a sappy Nicholas Sparks movie highlighted.
I manage a laugh, which quickly morphs into tears. Why the hell am I crying? I’m an undercover cop and a criminal got himself killed doing illegal shit! I don’t care about Rust!
But I do care for Luke.
This is going to crush him.
Knowing that breaks the last of my defenses and suddenly the tears are flowing down my cheeks. For Luke, for what he’s about to go through. For the anguish of replaying what his uncle’s final minutes might have been like. Not the uncle who led a car theft ring. The one who raised him the way a loving father raises a son.
Wiping them away with the back of my hand, I manage to get out, “Nicholas Sparks movies don’t make me feel better.”
“Okay, I’m sorry.” Luke takes turns brushing and kissing away the steady stream. “What else do you want to do?” He glances out the window. “It’s raining outside. We could go run around in the park?” He pauses. “Naked?”
I burrow my face in the crook of his neck and he wraps his arms around me, his chuckles soothing.
That’s what makes the severe knock on the door that much worse.
“Million-dollar condos and security doesn’t screen anyone, do they? I’m sorry.”
I trail him over, nearly stepping on his heels. He checks the peephole and his face pales.
“Who is it?”
A momentary flash of him opening the door and Vlad being there with guns aimed hits me. With Rix and Franky watching, I know that’s not likely. Still . . .
He looks at me, worry etched over his face. “It’s the cops.”
Another second and another knock on the door.
Finally, he opens it. And steps back. I know what he’s thinking. That they’re here to take him in. I almost wonder if that would be better.
“Are you Luka Xavier Boone?”
He folds his arms across his chest. “Yeah.”
I stand three feet away and watch as the storm—the rain I’ve been trying to save him from—hits Luke.
