“I’m leaving you two out of it,” I promise.
“Like hell,” Luca says, spinning on his stool to jab a finger into my chest. “You aren’t taking all the credit for our success.”
“Is that what you call it?” Jack asks dryly.
“Okay, I’ll leave Jack out of it,” I clarify.
“And you make sure she knows that Cairo was—”
“Tell her what you need to tell her, brother,” Jack says quickly. The last thing he needs is another fight breaking out over what happened in Egypt, especially since this time it would be his bar taking the damage.
“Whatever. Listen, want to grab lunch?” Luca asks. He checks his Rolex. “Or maybe early dinner? Whatever you eat at three in the afternoon.”
“High tea,” Jack offers dryly. “Aren’t you going to ask me?”
Luca rolls his dark eyes. “I’d ask you, but let’s face it, you’re married to this joint.”
“And it’s true love,” Jack says with a grin.
“I’ve got plans tonight and I need to prepare,” I say with intentional vagueness.
“Plans? With whom?” Jack bats his eyes in feigned innocence.
“I had no idea you needed to check my schedule,” I say, dodging the question.
“We’re just curious,” Luca says. “It must be important if you can’t buy lunch for the man who saved your life.”
“You’re getting your stories mixed up,” I tell him. “I thought I saved your life.”
“Boys,” Jack interrupts us. “Let’s not fight, especially since I’m the one that saved both your asses.” He slides a glass to Luca. “Stay and have a drink with me. We can mourn the taming of our dear friend, Sterling.”
“And the loss of his balls,” Luca adds, while Jack uncaps a bottle and begins to pour.
“I have no idea why you two are still single,” I say flatly.
“It’s a mystery, right?” Luca agrees. He takes a sip of the whiskey Jack just poured him. “Celebrating her new job?”
A primal urge awakens in me and I take a step closer. “How do you know about that?”
“She lives down the hall from me, remember?” He waves his napkin in surrender. “Don’t worry. I’m not sniffing around your girl.”
“I never said you were,” I say stiffly. I need to get this whole caveman thing under control or I’m going to catch more hell from both of them. “Or that she’s my girl.”
Luca sniffs his glass and looks up at Jack, continuing to sniff the air. “What’s that smell?”
“What smell?” Jack asks, looking around the bar quickly, his forehead wrinkling with concern.
“Something stinks.” Luca swivels back to face me. “Some kind of shit. A bull’s, maybe?”
I hop off the barstool. “Well, this has been fun, truly. The next time I need to talk about a woman, I will call my sister. I have somewhere to be.”
“Stalking is illegal, my friend,” Luca calls after me, but I ignore him.
I’m two steps onto the sidewalk when a familiar figure blocks my path. Like the rest of us, Noah Porter has filled out since our Army days. His wallet hasn’t, however. The suit he wears is a typical FBI affair: black, boring polyester. His hair is still cropped closely to his head, and he makes no effort to hide the angry scar that runs down the side of his face. But unlike most FBI agents I’ve encountered—and I’ve encountered quite a few—he looks like he might burst through its seams at any moment. Staring at him now, it’s hard to remember that we used to have so much in common. Now, we’re as far apart as night and day. We don’t even exist in the same time.
“It’s been awhile,” Noah says. He slides his gas station sunglasses off and looks me up and down. I wonder what he sees. Is it the same funhouse reflection that I see? A version of his life he decided against? It could have been different. I could be standing in his shoes if I’d made different choices. He knows it. I know it. It’s what makes it so hard for us to look at each other, let alone coexist. We are one another’s might-have-been.
“I didn’t know you were in town.” I shove my hands in my pockets and tell myself this is just two old friends catching up. But I still check my periphery for signs of other officers. The street is empty and quiet. He’s come alone, which means he doesn’t plan to arrest me. Whatever he has on me must be flimsy. Not that it matters. Anything is blood in the water where he and I are concerned. Noah will circle and wait. I’ve lost him a few times. Shaken him a few more. But, like a bad penny, he always turns up. I’m not sure why I thought he might let me go when I came to Valmont. Because it would mean I was keeping a low profile? Because I’m not actively working for any clients? Because as far as he knows, returning to Valmont is like the un-prodigal son finally coming home?
“Didn’t you?” He flashes a cold smile full of straight teeth, perfectly aligned by some Midwestern orthodontist. “After you went to all the trouble of carrying your girlfriend off to her room?”
Fuck. He had seen me that day. I keep my face carefully neutral and shrug like I’m drawing a blank. “Girlfriend?”
“The pretty redhead.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.” I sell this easily, because it’s true. Adair has made that clear.
“Why did you come back, then?”
“I had a business opportunity,” I say, knowing that’s as bad as admitting to any of my dealings. Just that statement alone is like throwing chum in front of a great white. But it will distract Noah from Adair, and that’s all that matters.
“So you didn’t come home for Adair MacLaine?”
Of course, he knows who she is. He has access to files full of information I’d rather he didn’t see. But, as careful as I am, the FBI usually manages to collect a few. That’s the trouble
