Page 73 of Philly
By the timethey pulled onto the highway to start the drive to Las Vegas, they’d gone through the two remaining condoms, had a quick breakfast and a not-so-quick shower, and stopped by the police department to pick up their weapons. They’d agreed to leave early, which Philly both regretted and welcomed. Lounging in bed would have been nice, but the speed with which they’d moved through the morning left no time for any awkwardness.
Not that there was any. Well, not much.
Not regret—never that—but more like putting on a pair of new boots for the first time. A little stiff and uncomfortable, but theyfit. And, given time and miles, the awkwardness of the novelty would relax and grow into the best, most comfortable pair of shoes.
He frowned as he stared out the window.
In the driver’s seat, Callie glanced over. “What’s wrong?”
“I just compared our relationship to a shoe. A boot, to be precise,” he said. “In a good way, of course. But then I questioned that comparison. It’s not a very flattering one.”
He turned to find her staring at him. “You might want to keep your eyes on the road.”
“We have lane assist and a collision warning, and there are no other cars on the road.”
A grin spread over his face. “Does that mean we can…”
She laughed, then turned her attention back to the road. “No, we cannot. I have to touch the steering wheel every minute or so. And besides, I’m wearing jeans and boots. In the confines of a car?—”
“You may as well be wearing a chastity belt,” he grumbled, drawing another laugh.
Several miles clicked by, and he watched a series of expressions chase across her face. It didn’t take a psychic to know she was running through all the intel they’d collected. And with her brain working on overdrive, he didn’t feel the need to pitch in; he was happy simply observing the process.
Which lasted all of ten minutes.
“Who do you think sent the hitman?” she asked.
They’d stopped at a too-cute café before hitting the road, and he grabbed his coffee from the cup holder. “Are you really asking that?”
She flashed him a look, then exhaled. “Okay, Aiden sent him, but why? Why would he kill his own son?”
“My guess?”
“Yes, please.”
“Joe was so excited to see me that he probably sent one of those pictures of the three of us to his family, thus alerting both Rian and Aiden to our presence in his life. And if Aiden found out about your visit to their offices in DC, it would be too muchof a coincidence for him to write off when you showed up here. And Joe isn’t exactly discreet. Not that I think he has a clue about Aiden’s activities, but he knows the business. Enough to give us insight—and possibly directions to look—if we add it to what we already know. Simply put, Aiden didn’t want Joseph accidentally telling us something he doesn’t want us to know.”
A few more miles ticked by. “I hadn’t thought about the picture, but the rest is pretty much what I came up with, too. Which means two things: Aiden really is a cold-blooded bastard. Not only is Joe his son, but killing him is like killing a puppy. And?—”
“We’re getting close,” he said.
She nodded. “It doesn’t feel that way, though. I know we’re closer than we were ten days ago. And in a different ballpark altogether from where I was before joining HICC. But the pieces still aren’t coming together. There are fragments, lots of meaningful fragments, but no clear picture.”
“The picture may not be clear from an evidence perspective, but it’s clear from every other perspective,” he replied. She glanced over again, her silence asking him to continue. “Aiden is funneling money from the company to either bribe his way into lucrative contracts or create a situation, like the bombing that killed Liza, that encourages a buyer to move ahead with a contract. He’s using Rian as his shield and not Joe because Rian is well-regarded and well-respected in the business community and suspicion is less likely to fall on him. Hedidn’tpick Joe because anyone who spends more than two minutes with Joe would never believe he’d engage in that kind of conduct. Not because he’s not capable but because making more money isn’t what drives him. He wants the company stable because of how many employees rely on the work, but amassing wealth isn’t how he wants to spend his life.”
He paused and took a sip of his coffee, grateful for the complementary reusable—and insulated—mugs the resort had given them.
“Now, the one part we have yet to work out is whether Liza was targeted or whether the Operation Nationalists sensed they had a mole, andshewas the target that night, with Liza being beneficial collateral damage. And yes, I hate saying that.”
“But it’s your training,” she said on an exhale. Reaching down, she picked up her own coffee but didn’t take a sip. “You’re good at this. At distilling things down to what’s essential,” she said. “I’m not surprised. I noticed it when we worked on Juliana’s situation and then Lina’s, but I guess…”
“You never expected us to be having this conversation?”
Her head bobbed from one side to the other. “More like I never expected us to have a real conversation of any sort.”
He chuckled. “We had more than a conversation last night.”
She glanced over. He waggled his brows. She shook her head to hide her smile. “Do you think Rian and Aiden will be at the hospital when we get there?”
