Page 47 of Illicit

They’ve been to New Orleans more times than I can count since I started my time here three years ago. Whenever they do, they find reasons to visit the office. I’m basically the golden retriever in their fictional family.

But I’m no pet and riding coattails isn’t my jam. If anyone in this world has something to prove, it’s me.

More like I have to prove what I’m not. I have the scar to remind me day in and day out.

The thing is everyone knows I’m tight with the Miami clan. What they don’t know is they’re all I have. And Taylor doesn’t know that I’ve known Teagan since she was eleven. She was right when she said I was emotionally unattached back then.

I gave that shit new meaning, and the Colemans gave me a family.

And for that reason alone, I will not be hitting Teagan, even though the thought has eaten away at me for the last two years. It’s gnawed away so long, Taylor was spot on about a cold spell. There’s been no one since my first kiss with Tim Coleman’s daughter.

I look up at him. “Good luck with the paperwork. This could be your breakout case. I can say I knew you when. I’ll contact Robichaux and set up a meet. Let me know if you need anything else.”

Taylor gives me a shove on the shoulder. “Go get her, Romeo.”

“Fuck you,” I mutter.

His grin spreads across his face. “No, fuck her.”

With two days left in New Orleans, I don’t need the drama of an OPR investigation, so I choose not to punch him in the face.

Look at me … in control. It doesn’t seem to be an issue with anyone but Teagan.

My cell vibrates in my pocket, and when I look at it, I know it won’t be a short conversation no matter how hard I try to make it one. But this is my chance to escape a conversation with Taylor about Teagan.

Even if it is with a phone call from her father.

Karma is hitting me from every direction.

I look to Taylor before I leave. “I’ve got to take this. See you later.”

The moment I connect the call, Taylor yells, “Good luck!”

“Good luck with what?” Tim asks in lieu of a greeting.

“The move,” I lie. “Just wrapping things up before I head out of town.”

“Gotcha. About that. I need a favor.” He sounds busy and distracted, which he should be. He manages five enforcement groups.

“Seeing as how you pushed my transfer through to get back to Miami, I owe you.”

“You’ll never owe me for that, but Annette and I are in a predicament. Sammie is … well, she’s always been an energy suck. You know this. But she’s single and dilated to an eight.”

Again with the vagina stats. It’s like Saturday morning Game Day during football season. This can’t be normal.

I try to keep the wince out of my tone. “Yeah, I heard.”

“And Teagan graduates this weekend,” he adds. “FYI … doesn’t matter how old your kids are, they can still be needy as fuck.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I mutter as I push out the door and head to my car.

“We don’t want to be away from Sammie for long. I’ve got a flight in and out just long enough for us to see Teagan walk across the stage. Annette is too busy fussing around Sammie and spending money on baby clothes to worry about details, so I told her I’d call you. I know you’re heading south anyway. We need you to help Teagan get loaded up and follow her so she’s not on the road by herself.”

I start my car and crank up the AC. What I want to say is that Teagan has no problem flying solo when doing sketchy shit, no matter how bad of an idea it is.

When I don’t answer, he adds, “You know Teag. She hardly has anything. Her studio apartment came furnished. Everything she has should fit in her car.

Her car with no windows, but that’s beyond the point.

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