we get started on the infiltration plan.”
Five minutes later, Rigo and Godiva sat again in the Phantom, the art deco-designed car that Rigo and Alejo had rebuilt. She covertly brushed her fingers over the old-fashioned armrest, wondering whose hands had put it there. This car was full of her son’s touch, as well as her . . . what should she call Rigo? Her ex-lover? One-time lover, she decided. That seemed neutral enough. And she shut the door on the hovering question: could it happen again?
“It’s about two thousand miles . . .” Rigo began as he started the car, which purred smoothly. Yes, he’d definitely upgraded the engine. Is that what he did on that ranch he’d mentioned? Godiva told herself there would be plenty of time ahead to find out.
“ . . . so call it thirty hours altogether,” Rigo finished.
She realized she had missed everything he’d said about routes and so forth. Which didn’t mean squat anyway. So she got to what mattered, testing him again. “Thirty hours not all at once, I hope. We’re not racing against a ticking bomb.”
He laughed. “Can I say I’m glad? Though Alejo would probably think it cool. He still helps Lance with the occasional Guardian missions.”
“I’ll want to hear more about this Guardian stuff,” Godiva said, aware that she was still testing him. “Especially if there are secret handshakes and codes. But right now, the practical stuff. Hotels or motels, I don’t care, as long as they’re clean. Separate rooms. I pay for myself.”
“Whatever you say,” he responded.
“And no complaining about frequent bathroom breaks along the road. If I gotta, I gotta,” she warned.
He stopped at a stop sign, and shot her a wry look. “Did I ever complain to you about anything?” he asked.
“That was years ago,” she shot back. “We’re two different people now.”
“I’m still a basilisk,” he said mildly.
She gave in to the instinct to laugh. So far, all points to him. “Got it. I can be ready in ten minutes.”
He sent her another of those innard-warming smiles. “It’ll take a bit longer than that to return to my motel and get my gear. I’ll be back in half an hour. Does that sound all right?”
“I’ll be waiting,” she said.
He pulled up in her driveway a short time later. She got out as soon as he stopped, and hustled inside.
The actual packing really would only take five minutes. Dealing with her guests might take longer, if they showed a tendency to hover, to worry, to issue cautions. She hated being treated like a doddering oldster, even if people were well-meaning, so she had to get her mind in the right space to be pleasant and grateful for the attention.
She found Wendy in the kitchen, in the midst of chopping veggies for the crockpot. The pungent aromas of fresh onion and carrot and greens hung promisingly in the air.
Tough, irascible Eve was unloading the dishwasher, and dignified, quiet Lily sat at the breakfast bar, keeping them company. Out in the garden, visible through the window, Wendy’s little boy was intent on some game, sunlight winking off his glasses.
Godiva stood in the doorway, braced herself, and stated, “I’m going on a road trip. The house is yours while I’m gone, of course.”
Wendy laid down the carving knife as the other women fell silent.
“Shouldn’t be real long,” Godiva said into the silence. “This is to Illinois and back.”
Eve set a cup on the hook and turned. “With?”
“Someone from my past.”
“You’ve got us on speed dial, right?” Eve said. “For ‘in case’ scenarios.”
Godiva tapped the pocket of her purse where her phone lived.
“When are you leaving?” Wendy asked.
“He’s picking me up in half an hour.”
“Shall I pack you both a sandwich?” Wendy asked.
“Thanks—I’m good,” Godiva said. “And I don’t even know what he eats anymore. Guess I’ll find out.” A quick scan of faces, and she knew they wanted to ask questions, but wouldn’t unless she gave an opening.
Which she couldn’t do now. If ever.
“You’re all awesome,” she said, and retreated to her room, her throat stinging a little, though this was just a road trip, not a Grand Move.
But she knew what that sting was: they cared. She had come to this town entirely alone, expecting to end her life alone. But gradually she’d somehow become a part of this . . . whatever it was.
She laughed at herself as she hauled out her suitcase once again. Wow, had her feelings . . . really, everything had done a 180.
She