I liked Destiny. If I was really who I said I was, we would be friends. But I had to learn from Finley’s horror show of an outcome. My relationship with her—from my end—was professional and not at all personal.
I checked my watch. I couldn’t be out too late. If I was back at the apartment by ten—ten-thirty, that might be reasonable. Any later, and Destiny might grow anxious.
Though, maybe she’d be asleep and not notice. She had asked to switch our schedules so she could have my red-eye since I’d be out late.
Fine by me.
Still, the sooner I built trust, the sooner I’d be home in Striker’s bed.
Incentive to get out of here early.
“Hey!” Auralia called with her arm raised.
Gator’s sisters, Auralia and Genevieve, sat at the round table with Lula and Christen. Someone had brought Christen a headband with a four-inch bridal veil that she was wearing in her pixie haircut like a good sport.
Colorful drinks sweated in glasses. Platters of ooey-gooey hors d’oeuvres had been picked at. Everything was so normal. The smiles so wide.
This is about Gator and Christen, not about you, I reminded myself.
While Lula and Christen were besties from childhood, they’d each gone their own way. Christen into the Army. Lula to law school—and into her covert job at the CIA, where she was one of the color code. Johnna White.
The problem was, that was top secret.
I shouldn’t know.
Unless and until Lula was the one who told me that information. I had to act as if that information didn’t exist in my brain.
Lula was not responsible for my issues getting a divorce from Angel.
I wasn’t going to let that beast rear its head here.
This was about fun. Friendship. And last-minute details for the wedding.
And I would play nice.
“Yay! You’re here!” Genevieve was up from her seat, giving me a massive hug. Followed by Auralia.
The waiter showed up. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Perrier and lemon, please.”
“What, you’re not drinking?” Auralia asked.
“I have work later tonight. And I’m driving. Besides, my stress fell off the minute I walked into this place. Hey, Christen. Welcome home.”
She raised her glass of champagne. “I’ve been looking forward to this for so long. Glad to finally be here.”
Chapter Thirty
As fun as it had been to hang out at the bar, it made it that much harder to pull on my “Esther” outfit of jeans, a T-shirt, and beat-up tennis shoes.
My back was sore—my shoulders. My feet throbbed.
I could say for sure that being a server wasn’t my happy place. I was exhausted and yet felt like I hadn’t had exercise in days.
Bed would feel excellent, even if it was an air mattress, a couple of crappy pillows, and a sleeping bag. Right now, I’d be fine curled up on the back seat of my car.
All I needed was some darkness and some quiet.
I’d left my shift this afternoon at the diner and met up with Prescott and Finley. They debriefed me. Checked to see how I was handling the situation. Reviewed the tapes and videos and pronounced things to be on track.
Fast track, I hoped.
I needed to come up with excuses for being away Thursday night for the Davidson’s reception. Then, of course, Friday, everyone in the bridal party would be hanging out at my house. And Saturday I’d be gone all day for the wedding.
Fake an illness?
Tell Destiny I was going on another bucket list adventure?
I already had off Friday and Saturday, so that might work. I could say I was going to Hershey, Pennsylvania, to see how kisses were made or something.
Next time I talked to Finley, I’d see if he had a better game plan.
Climbing the rickety wooden stairs to the upstairs door on the side of the garage, I noticed the bedroom light was on.
As I reached my key toward for deadbolt, heebie-jeebies lit my nerves.
I stilled.
A long, slow inhale quieted my mind as I expanded my senses, trying to understand the threat.
I hadn’t seen anything on my way up the street, my car was parked around the corner, and no other vehicles seemed to be in this area.
Just this morning, I’d talked to Destiny about heightened reflexive actions, but this was heebie-jeebies, and they had never been wrong before.
Resting my ear against the door, I held my breath to listen.
Nothing.
I turned to put my back to the wall. With one hand shielding my eyes from the overhead light, I searched. Too late, my night vision had been corrupted. Around me, the night sky was moonless.
Pulling the door toward me and slowly turning the knob, so there would be no squeak or rasp, the door gave.
Unlocked.
Unusual.
My heart thrummed.
Now, I exhaled. Reprocessing, I released the knob slowly so that it made no sound.
Stepping back, Striker flashed into my awareness. After I jumped into the fight in the parking lot, I’d have to be very careful here.
Calling in backup was the right thing to do, even if it felt a little like overkill.
I sidled soundlessly down the steps to the ground. Hugging the shadows, I wound my way around the garage.
No dogs barked in the neighborhood.
The guy who owned the house was elderly and hard of hearing. He usually fell asleep in his recliner in front of the TV, and then around ten, he’d make his way to his bed.
When I drove past to go park a moment ago, the blue light of the television had been flashing in his curtainless picture window. By the time I parked and hiked back, the
