My ego was bruised, but I was glad we were finally going to find out what Jean-Claude was up to.
“Speaking of Tom Clancy,” Ana said to Jake, “who do
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you think was better in those movies? Harrison Ford or Ben Affleck?”
Someone sang “A Little Less Conversation” as Jake said,
“Harrison Ford. Everyone knows that.”
I woke up the next morning to a ringing sound and Ana thumping my head like it was the snooze button of her alarm clock.
I lifted a heavy eyelid and searched for a clock. It was ten in the morning. The ringing continued, and I wondered if I had a hangover.
Then I remembered I’d only had one drink—barely.
“Phone,” Ana mumbled, pulling a pillow over her head.
My cell phone, I realized with a start. I rolled out of Ana’s bed, stumbled toward my backpack, which was still buzzing.
I found my phone, flipped it open, and mumbled something in the way of a greeting. I think it might have been “Hello”
but may have come out as “Yo.”
“Sleeping late, are we?”
I padded into Ana’s living room, flopped onto her sofa, and drew a chenille throw over my bare legs. I’d borrowed one of Ana’s T-shirts and a pair of boxer shorts—I didn’t want to know their origin—to sleep in.
“Good morning to you too. You never were a morning person,” I said.
Kevin grunted. “It’s practically afternoon. Loverboy tire you out?”
I ground my teeth, rubbed the sleep from my eyes. “No, Ana tires me out. She hogs the covers.”
Banging my head with my fist, I wondered why I’d said anything at all. Why did I care if he thought I’d slept with Bobby?
Why? We. Were. Over.
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Heather Webber
Done.
Finito.
Right?
Ugh.
“But your mother . . . Never mind,” he said.
Ah. My mother probably assumed I’d changed my mind last night and gone home with Bobby after all. Probably I should have told her I was going out with Ana and that I’d decided to stay the night at her place. I’m sure my father had filled her in by now.
“Earth to Nina” I heard in my ear.
“What?”
“Talk about not being a morning person.”
“Is Riley okay? Is that why you’re calling?”
I yawned. Doing recon took its toll.
“He’s fine,” Kevin said. “I just dropped him off at work.
Can you pick him up?”
“Sure.”
“Great. All right, I’ve got good news and bad news.
Which do you want first?”
“Good,” I said. I could use a pick-me-up.
“The Grabinsky yard has been cleared. As soon as you get the go-ahead from Greta Grabinsky you can finish the job there.”
Oh, like that was going to be easy.
I debated whether I should tell him about the conversation in Greta’s kitchen I’d overheard. Decided it was the right thing to do. Taking a deep breath, I told Kevin about the threats.
“And how do you know about these threats?” he asked. I heard irritation in his voice.
“I, um, told you. I overheard.”
