Becoming Rain
Page 84
“Well, in that case . . .” He yanks me back to him and, taking my hand in his, he guides it back to his now full erection with a playful grin. “I swear, I’ll make it up to you.”
“Come over tonight. I’ll pick up dinner. Some lasagna or something.” I hear the smile in Luke’s voice.
“Is that your way of telling me you want me to make real lasagna tonight?” That’s a whole day’s production, if I want to make fresh noodles and everything.
And yet I know that I’ll do it if Luke asks me to.
“I’m just kidding. We can have whatever you want. There’s a great Thai place nearby.”
“Let me grab it. Say, seven?”
“Just text me when you’re on your way.”
“I’ll call. I like hearing your voice.” Texting has become too dangerous now. I can steer a live conversation, cut off words before they implicate anyone. But a message from Luke saying “Thanks for last night. You give amazing head” is pretty black-and-white in the transcripts.
My relief escapes in a sigh when I hear the line go dead. I have survived another recorded conversation without getting burned by Luke revealing what we’ve been doing. How I’ve broken my team’s trust and jeopardized my career, because of feelings I have for my target. Because this isn’t just about the case for me anymore.
I’m able to reconcile my guilt somewhat, telling myself that everything Luke has revealed to me, he’s revealed only because I’ve crossed the line with him. That rationale doesn’t come without side effects, though. Namely, the little voice in the back of my head that’s not so little anymore. That screams and yells at me. That tells me I’m an idiot. That Luke isn’t going to change, that he’s lying to me because that’s what he is—a liar and a thief. That I’ve dug myself into a hole that I need to start trying to get myself out of.
That I’m not really helping Luke by hiding all of this from my team. Maybe slapping handcuffs on his wrists and hauling him into the station, bursting his bubble about the fictional Rain, and making him admit everything that he’s admitted to me is the only way to help him.
Maybe . . .
My next call is to Warner, to set up cover. “I’m going over to 12’s place tonight, for dinner.”
“ ’kay.”
There’s a long pause of dead air, something I’m not used to with my handler. “Warner? You okay?”
Another long pause. “The Porsche was moved again three hours ago.”
“So, I was right. Vlad didn’t have it stolen.”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
I frown. Who else would want to steal Luke’s car, specifically?
“I’m assuming we’ve passed to a second fence. A two-deep fence line is what we’ve seen in the past for these big rings, so hopefully the next stop is the cargo container.”
The next stop. How much closer will that be to the person who can finger Luke in a lineup? “That’s good.”
“Yup.” Again, that tightness in his voice.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, just . . . Rebecca and I decided to take some time apart.”
So the girlfriend finally has a name. “I’m sorry, Warner.”
“It is what it is.” So matter-of-fact. “What do you have planned for today?”
“Uh . . . just some grocery shopping and stuff. I’ll talk to you later?”
“Sure.” The phone clicks awfully fast. He’s obviously more upset about his breakup than he’ll ever let on.
Maybe I’ll buy him a case of beer and invite him over later this week.
But today . . . today, I have something more urgent to do. Searching out Elmira’s phone number, I head over to the safe behind the painting and dig out my personal phone to make the call.
Chapter 45
LUKE
“Fuck!” I slam my phone down, earning Miller’s glare. “Sorry. The cops are still dicking me around.” My car was supposed to be released last week, but apparently they have a backlog in their investigations unit. They said I’d get it back next week. Maybe.
Miller grunts as he eases his body out of his chair and drops several checks on my desk. “Here. I guess you’re supposed to sign these now, right?”
“What is this for?” I eye all the digits staring back at me.
“Tax man.”
“Already? I thought all that got squared away with the lawyers when we changed ownership over.”
Miller laughs, an odd and grating sound. “You’re never squared away with paying taxes. These are the next installment. Don’t worry, the money’s already sitting in the account to cover it. You just have to sign it over.”
I scrawl my name across the line and hand it back. “Don’t ever leave me, Miller.”
He responds with another grunt as he ambles back to his corner. I pick up the plaque that showed up mysteriously on my desk this morning, tracing the engraved letters that spell out “Nurse Boss Boone.” And I smile. Tabbs and Zeke are obviously behind it. It’s their way of congratulating me, while still getting their digs in. I don’t mind so much anymore.
I can’t believe this garage is mine. Not bad for a twenty-four-year-old guy. Based on the numbers I just handed over to the government, and the earnings statements I saw while signing ownership papers, I could make a good, solid living off this place if I keep it up.
“Come over tonight. I’ll pick up dinner. Some lasagna or something.” I hear the smile in Luke’s voice.
“Is that your way of telling me you want me to make real lasagna tonight?” That’s a whole day’s production, if I want to make fresh noodles and everything.
And yet I know that I’ll do it if Luke asks me to.
“I’m just kidding. We can have whatever you want. There’s a great Thai place nearby.”
“Let me grab it. Say, seven?”
“Just text me when you’re on your way.”
“I’ll call. I like hearing your voice.” Texting has become too dangerous now. I can steer a live conversation, cut off words before they implicate anyone. But a message from Luke saying “Thanks for last night. You give amazing head” is pretty black-and-white in the transcripts.
My relief escapes in a sigh when I hear the line go dead. I have survived another recorded conversation without getting burned by Luke revealing what we’ve been doing. How I’ve broken my team’s trust and jeopardized my career, because of feelings I have for my target. Because this isn’t just about the case for me anymore.
I’m able to reconcile my guilt somewhat, telling myself that everything Luke has revealed to me, he’s revealed only because I’ve crossed the line with him. That rationale doesn’t come without side effects, though. Namely, the little voice in the back of my head that’s not so little anymore. That screams and yells at me. That tells me I’m an idiot. That Luke isn’t going to change, that he’s lying to me because that’s what he is—a liar and a thief. That I’ve dug myself into a hole that I need to start trying to get myself out of.
That I’m not really helping Luke by hiding all of this from my team. Maybe slapping handcuffs on his wrists and hauling him into the station, bursting his bubble about the fictional Rain, and making him admit everything that he’s admitted to me is the only way to help him.
Maybe . . .
My next call is to Warner, to set up cover. “I’m going over to 12’s place tonight, for dinner.”
“ ’kay.”
There’s a long pause of dead air, something I’m not used to with my handler. “Warner? You okay?”
Another long pause. “The Porsche was moved again three hours ago.”
“So, I was right. Vlad didn’t have it stolen.”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
I frown. Who else would want to steal Luke’s car, specifically?
“I’m assuming we’ve passed to a second fence. A two-deep fence line is what we’ve seen in the past for these big rings, so hopefully the next stop is the cargo container.”
The next stop. How much closer will that be to the person who can finger Luke in a lineup? “That’s good.”
“Yup.” Again, that tightness in his voice.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, just . . . Rebecca and I decided to take some time apart.”
So the girlfriend finally has a name. “I’m sorry, Warner.”
“It is what it is.” So matter-of-fact. “What do you have planned for today?”
“Uh . . . just some grocery shopping and stuff. I’ll talk to you later?”
“Sure.” The phone clicks awfully fast. He’s obviously more upset about his breakup than he’ll ever let on.
Maybe I’ll buy him a case of beer and invite him over later this week.
But today . . . today, I have something more urgent to do. Searching out Elmira’s phone number, I head over to the safe behind the painting and dig out my personal phone to make the call.
Chapter 45
LUKE
“Fuck!” I slam my phone down, earning Miller’s glare. “Sorry. The cops are still dicking me around.” My car was supposed to be released last week, but apparently they have a backlog in their investigations unit. They said I’d get it back next week. Maybe.
Miller grunts as he eases his body out of his chair and drops several checks on my desk. “Here. I guess you’re supposed to sign these now, right?”
“What is this for?” I eye all the digits staring back at me.
“Tax man.”
“Already? I thought all that got squared away with the lawyers when we changed ownership over.”
Miller laughs, an odd and grating sound. “You’re never squared away with paying taxes. These are the next installment. Don’t worry, the money’s already sitting in the account to cover it. You just have to sign it over.”
I scrawl my name across the line and hand it back. “Don’t ever leave me, Miller.”
He responds with another grunt as he ambles back to his corner. I pick up the plaque that showed up mysteriously on my desk this morning, tracing the engraved letters that spell out “Nurse Boss Boone.” And I smile. Tabbs and Zeke are obviously behind it. It’s their way of congratulating me, while still getting their digs in. I don’t mind so much anymore.
I can’t believe this garage is mine. Not bad for a twenty-four-year-old guy. Based on the numbers I just handed over to the government, and the earnings statements I saw while signing ownership papers, I could make a good, solid living off this place if I keep it up.
