it out, I was headed to the last place on earth I wanted to go—home, to talk with the last person on earth I wanted to talk to. My mother.
The really sad part about the whole probably doomed enterprise was that I couldn’t be sure she’d even recognize me when I showed up on her doorstep. And if she did, there was no guarantee she’d let me in. Maybe she’d welcome me with open arms. Prodigal son, slaughtering the fatted calf, and all that guff.
Ha. If only.
I must have scoffed out loud because Leo turned curious eyes on me from the passenger’s seat of the SUV Miranda had thrust us into a little over a week ago.
In sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, his cheeks shadowed with stubble grayer than the salt-and-pepper hair curling over his ears in a very non-regulation way, Leo Shook didn’t look much like an FBI agent anymore. Then again, he hadn’t exactly been acting like an FBI agent for a while. For example, he hadn’t arrested me even once. Then again, who amongst us was the man he had been before this all started?
“Something funny?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Just thinking.”
“About going home? Or about when you left?” he asked quietly.
He might not be an agent anymore, but he was still perceptive, damn him. Against my better judgment, I liked him. Despite the ten-year difference in our ages, it sometimes felt as if he and I were the only grown-ups in this group of merry men.
“Yes. I’m afraid thinking about the past tends to make me maudlin. I’ve been told I was a rather…dramatic…child and sometimes the voice in my head can take a turn for the theatrical.”
The dim light of the SUV’s instrument panel gave off just enough illumination for me to see his small smile. “You? Dramatic? I’m shocked.”
“Well. Sometimes it can be an asset in my line of work.”
“You never said why you left,” Leo said mildly. “I assume whatever job Charlie has for us has something to do with that.”
He didn’t admonish me or press for details which was admirable considering I had told the guys almost nothing about this ridiculous quest Charlie had sent me on.
If Charlie hadn’t already been dead, I would have killed him for guilting me into this. Even from beyond the grave, the bastard still thought he could tell me what to do, still thought he knew what was best for me.
The thing was, sometimes he’d been right. Then again, sometimes he hadn’t been. Only time would tell which it was this time.
A blue sign on the side of the highway promised food, gas, and lodging at the next exit. The Denny’s sign rising from the trees and glowing brightly against the night sky made good on that promise.
“Should we stop for some food?” Leo asked.
“I could eat,” Steele said.
It went without saying that Breck and Ridge would always be happy to stop and eat. At only twenty-one, they were still growing boys.
Danny was the one who most needed to eat and the one who would never ask. He seldom asked for anything and seemed surprised by anything that was given to him, no matter how small. I wasn’t the only one who went out of his way to bring home little gifts for our youngest crew member. Very often the gift was edible because after two years of living on the streets and dealing with the food insecurity that came with the lifestyle, Danny never turned down food. Wesley, no stranger to hard times himself, kept an eye out for food hoarding and made sure to eliminate any potential health hazards while leaving enough of a stockpile to keep Danny’s anxiety at bay.
Not that I was judging. I’d had my own times of not knowing where my next meal was coming from.
I knew Danny was missing his red-headed hacker boyfriend, but Miranda had needed him, so he’d stayed behind at some undisclosed location. He and Miranda were focusing on two separate tasks. One, finding more information on who was after us. And two, keeping Bigolb-Autumn Enterprises—the legal face of Charlie’s empire—running. Even after death, bills had to be paid, and without Charlie’s schemes, all Charlie’s estate had to bring in cash were the legitimate businesses. Since Miranda was adamant that all the businesses operated as ethically as possible, profits weren’t as high as they could be and our little escapades weren’t cheap. Not to mention whatever Josie was doing. None of us had seen or