Page 75 of Illicit

Annette doesn’t care what I think of my own arm, she turns to the expert in the group. “Does he need stitches?”

Evie grabs my hand again and turns my arm over to inspect it closer. “How long ago did you do this?”

“The night before last. It’s fine.”

“The night before your move?” Micah produces a low whistle and looks over at Tim. “Your new young agent is going to give us a run for our money. He’s still got the ambition of a newbie even though he’s been on for three years. I’ll call Brax and King—warn them that Rocco is hell-bent on making us look bad.”

Micah and Tim aren’t worried about my arm, only cases. Tim says, “I’m counting on it.”

“I think he needs to have it looked at.” Annette turns to me. “At least it’s on your scar, right? You won’t have another one. But I’m worried you’ll get an infection.”

“The mom and the doctor are hitting me hard. It’ll be fine. I didn’t have time to go to the ER that night. It’s probably too late for stitches at this point.”

Annette gapes at me. “Who doesn’t have time to go to the ER when they have a slash in their arm?”

Someone who was anxious as fuck to get back to your daughter, but I can’t exactly say that since we agreed to the secret trial run. “It was late. I’m sure it will be fine. It can’t be worse than a third-degree burn, right?”

“If it gets infected,” Annette keeps on.

Tim puts a hand to Annette’s back and motions toward the door through the sea of people filing in for the ceremony. “Roc can take care of himself. We’re going to miss our daughter graduating if we stand out here in the heat for you to mother him.”

Annette lets her husband usher her in but turns around and points to me at the same time. “Keep an eye on it.”

“Let me know if it looks infected,” Evie adds.

It took me a few years, but I finally got used to Annette and everyone else. I have very few memories of my own mother giving a shit if I was hungry, let alone hurt. Those memories were before shit got really bad when she started using again.

And since you can’t give a shit about your kid when you’re in prison or dead, I’ve been taking care of myself for as long as I can remember.

Micah and Evie file in next to me.

“Tell me about the case that has you working on your way out of town that you’ll have to leave behind for someone else to claim the glory,” Micah demands.

I hold the door as we file through the crowd. “I’m not leaving much behind. This is international. I’m bringing it with me.”

Micah’s brows rise. He’s impressed, and it takes a lot to impress him. “No shit? South America?”

I shake my head. “Africa.”

“Impressive,” Evie exclaims.

Micah looks down at his wife. “You never say that to me anymore when I talk about work.”

“I’m always impressed with you,” Evie croons.

“I traced it to Nigeria,” I add. “There’s a local Mississippi man they tricked into being a mule. He’s in prison there, and his family wants him back since he was framed. I made some calls.”

“You’re coming in hard,” Micah says. “Now I’m jealous that Brax claimed you first. Young blood with all the excitement to get your hands dirty.”

“I know you’re still willing to get your hands dirty,” I reply.

“Maybe.” He smirks. “Where’d you get the lead?”

“It’s complicated and a long story. I’ll brief you when I get to Miami next week,” I explain, wanting to put it off for as long as possible. And there’s no way I’m throwing Teagan under the bus. The agents can’t keep a secret. I’ve known Teagan since she was a girl, but they’ve known her since she was a baby. If they find out what she did, they’d go to Tim in a heartbeat.

We file into the auditorium and take our seats. The women sit next to each other, and I’m flanked by Annette and Tim, who I’m usually more than comfortable with.

Today, not so much.

---