Page 54 of Love and Loathing

“What? What is it?” Jessie asked.

He took her arm. “Come with me.” He led her to the front porch, shutting the door behind him.

“Alex?”

“If they were going to the Maldives, they’d have to make probably two stops between here and there, and the first stop would most likely be a bigger US city than Charlottesville.”

“You mean like Chicago?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then they are leaving the country, and there’s nothing we can do …”

“No, there’s nothing we can do.” He ran his hands up and down her arms. “Jessie, I have to go.”

She grabbed chunks of his shirt at his sides. “What … why?”

He sighed. “Now that Steve and Kevin are out of the way, Charlie and I need to talk about our next steps. Charlie is expecting me tonight.”

“Will you come back?”

“It could be a while,” he said.

“Oh.” Her stomach fell, and she took a step back. Here she’d been thinking they were on the verge of something; why else had he come last night? But now he was leaving. “Okay. Well, I just want to thank you … for—”

Before she could finish what she was saying, he’d pulled her to him and was hugging her tight. “I will be back.”

She choked back a sob. Then why did she feel like this was goodbye?

Chapter 22

“This feels really sketchy, Alex,” Charlie said. “Is it sketchy? It is, isn’t it?”

Alex quirked a grin at his best friend as they waited at the address his contact had sent him—a little diner in New York called, interestingly enough, Babylon. It gave the term “greasy spoon” a more literal meaning than Alex had ever seen. The tiled floors were broken and filled with dirt. There were watermarks on the ceiling and a smattering of crumbs across every table. An ant crawled past Charlie’s side of the booth, and he flicked it away. The kitchen was an open space in the middle of the restaurant, with a large grill. The chef had a dirty towel hanging from his surprisingly clean apron.

“It’s fine, Charlie,” Alex said. “Relax.”

A large man, with biceps easily three times the size of Alex’s, walked in and scanned the room. His eyes fell on Alex and Charlie for just a moment. Then he went up to the counter and ordered something in a language Alex couldn’t determine. After ordering, he came to their table. He glanced from Alex to Charlie and back again. He reached a hand out to Alex. “Alex.”

“Ike, you’ve bulked up.” Alex shook his hand and noticed his Army Night Stalker tattoo under the hem of his long-sleeve shirt, an emblem of the fifteen years he’d spent in the service.

“Doubling for Dean Spencer in his new action flick.” Without looking at Charlie, Ike slid into the booth next to him, causing Charlie to scramble to the other side. The guy was so big, all muscle, that Charlie barely had room, and Alex had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. Ike pointed at Alex. “You’ve shrunk.”

“Just got lean.” Alex smirked. “How’s Spencer to work with?”

Ike shrugged one massive shoulder, and Alex tried hard to figure out how the man had ever managed to double for him. “Pain in my neck—but pay’s pay.”

That was Hollywood for you. In Alex’s experience, few actors were an exception.

“Let me make sure I got this right.” Ike got straight to the point. “You have two men who stole millions of dollars from a bunch of small-town folk, one of whom seduced your little sister and then tried to seduce your woman, and now the schmoes have run off to the Maldives to avoid arrest. Is that all?”

Alex nodded. “Yes.”

Charlie raised a hand, then pointed to Alex. “Actually, the one guy also took off with his lady’s little sister.”

“And you want me to go there and bring them back to a town called—” His lips quirked up. “—Harvest Ranch, so they can stand trial?”

“Yes.”

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