Page 135 of Illicit

“You’re making me edgy. What the hell is going on?”

He inhales an audible breath before he puts it out there. “It’s your father. He called the Division after your last day. When I called the office about the negotiator, the clerk who answers the general calls asked if Rocco’s dad ever got hold of him. Dude, he’s out of jail. Did you know?”

“Fuck,” I hiss. I grip the steering wheel so tight, my knuckles turn white. “I found out recently. Brax has been keeping tabs on him.”

“Big bro has your back. Lucky man.” The radio crackles again. “But this is what you need to know. Daddy Monroe sweet-talked the southern lady on the phone who likes to chat with everyone. I guess he acted like you two were close. He asked for you to begin with, then told the clerk he wanted to surprise you with a gift for your new house. It took her about ten seconds to realize she fucked up after she told me this and I freaked the fuck out on her. She’s in deep shit with the Division for giving out personal information. But dude, she told your old man you transferred to Miami. And that’s not the worst part.”

“No,” I growl. “She didn’t…”

“She did. She gave him your forwarding address. Did you give them the Colemans?”

I should be relieved.

But there’s nothing to be relieved about.

“No.” My gut tightens as I think about it. “I gave the office my new one. The house I’m closing on next week.”

“Oh.” Taylor exhales with relief. “That’s good. You’ve got a week to figure that shit out then. Or burn the house down. One of the two.”

I drag a hand down my face, thinking about being there today with Teagan. There’s a decent chance he wasn’t there.

But there’s always a chance he was.

“Dude, did I lose you?”

“No, man. I’m here. Thanks for the heads-up. You’re one of maybe three people in the New Orleans Division that even knows about my old man. Appreciate you.”

“Hey, the negotiator just rolled up. I’ll call you.”

“Stay safe and let me know,” I say.

“Later.”

I disconnect and exit the highway to turn around. My appointment will have to wait.

The last words Rodney Monroe ever uttered to me ring through my head.

“You’ll pay for this, boy.”

Those fucking words.

They’ve haunted me for years. But today, they have a much different meaning.

And I’m not taking any chances.

31

BOY

Teagan

“We just got these in,” the clerk says as she checks me out. “They’re gorgeous, and the color will compliment your skin tone beautifully.”

“Um, thanks.”

I’ve never shopped for sexy anything before, let alone lingerie. Wearing thongs doesn’t count. That’s just underwear. Who wants panty lines anyway?

Buying lingerie is a whole new experience, but so is a salesclerk complimenting me on how I’ll look in it.

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