rumble as he turned his head and kissed my temple, nuzzling until I lifted enough that he could rub his face in my sweaty hair. “I’m not ready yet,” he whispered, pressing kisses along my jaw.
I gave myself over to his care as his mouth found mine.
Eight
I checked Dallas’s phone when it chirped an hour later, and there was a text message with the name and number of my contact. There had been some dispute, the FBI’s undercover agent had reported, about who Ruben Suárez’s number two was, and it’d been interesting to watch the protocol in action. I had to type back a secure number that was also texted to me, and then both messages were deleted as though they had never existed. The Bureau was making sure that if someone was going to get burned, it would be because of their own miscalculation, not thanks to some random text message that someone forgot to erase.
The message also said that Nash Colter—my new alias—had been put into play and that I would not be waiting for the FBI to patch Brig Stanton’s phone through to me. My number had replaced Brig’s altogether, so anyone trying to get him would get me instead. I understood how the Bureau had wanted to stay in the loop, to be in charge of the information, and it would all go so much smoother, and made more sense, this way. It was impressive, but waiting was tedious.
I got the ball rolling and texted the number of Ruben Suárez’s contact and asked what time we were meeting. I got a reply moments later that said they would be in touch the following day. Since pushing was dangerous, and because drug dealers weren’t in the habit of leaving cell phone records of conversations for law enforcement to trace, I put the op out of my mind and got up to take a shower.
Once I was out and changed into a pair of jeans, and had borrowed one of Dallas’s T-shirts and a button-up cardigan, I went to the kitchen to see what he had on hand to cook. The muffins we’d had earlier that morning weren’t cutting it, but I ended up with nothing but disappointment as I explored my options. I had not seen an emptier refrigerator since my college days. It was astounding. I had no idea that grown men lived like this once they were supposed to be fully functioning adults.
Since Dallas and I had each other’s phone numbers, I figured if he woke up and found me gone, he’d call me, and so I took his car and went back to the plaza we’d passed the night before, where I’d noticed a Whole Foods Market. I ended up going a bit overboard, but Jesus, the man had no staples. Beer he had. There was good vodka in his freezer, but actual food…not so much.
When I returned, I was surprised to find a car sitting outside by the curb in front of his house, and the driver got out as I parked and shut off the engine. It hit me then that I didn’t have my gun on me, that in a matter of hours I had gone from vigilant and strapped to acting like I was on vacation.
I opened my door and exited cautiously, to find a young woman standing frozen near the back of Dallas’s car. She had clearly not been expecting me.
“Hi,” I greeted her, pretty certain that I was looking at his younger sister. Between the hair and her eye color, no one could deny their connection.
She struggled to smile but didn’t quite get there.
“I’m Croy,” I said, moving forward to offer her my hand.
She grabbed it, holding tight, and there were tears suddenly welling up in her eyes.
“Would you like to help me with the groceries and come in and talk about whatever it is that’s wrong?”
Quick head nodding.
“I’m good at solving problems,” I informed her with absolute certainty. “You’ll see.”
I got a wan smile over that boast.
It took us several trips in and out of the house, and she was not surprised that I’d bought out the store, because she’d never been over and had her brother offer her anything but water, beer, or vodka, and the occasional Hot Pocket, frozen burrito, or Pop-Tart. She was, however, stunned that he was asleep. She even checked on him and came back into the kitchen as I was putting groceries away, looking utterly gobsmacked.
“He doesn’t sleep. He never sleeps.”
I