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“Chicago? No shit? I lived there for a while.”
Samuel regarded Harper a moment longer. “One of my step-sisters has a heart defect, and she qualified for a program there that might help.”
“That’s great that she’s getting help. Think she’ll be okay?” Harper got the feeling this wasn’t something Samuel shared with just anyone. Not that Harper could blame him. They’d worked together almost a year and knew squat about each other.
Samuel lifted a shoulder and cast a critical gaze Harper’s way. “Gives her hope. I can’t say how it’ll turn out, but at least she’s living her life. You really should have those pants taken in a little.”
“Seriously?” Harper looked down at himself. He’d gone out with Jamie to buy the damn clothes. Harper hadn’t expected his best friend to lead him wrong. “I just get what I’m told.”
Samuel held up a tie. “You’ll pass for tonight. We’ll want to get you some better-fitting clothes if you’re going to be around the rest of the family. You need to look like you belong in their circle. You do know how to tie this, right?”
“I think I can manage.”
He tossed the subtly patterned material at Harper.
“Samuel, relax.” He slid the tie around his neck and let his hands work the magic. “Tonight is just about her. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“What sorority was she part of?”
“She’s a Tri Delt. She did a lot of fundraising for cancer research. Her social circle is still mostly her sorority sisters. Despite how her father likes to play it, their family fortune came from her mother’s chain of motels and hotels. Her mother—now there’s an interesting lady—was an advocate for illegal immigrants and refugees. She went out of her way to employ displaced people. Her business has thrived after her death in large part to the man currently running things, who happens to be an immigrant from… Shit. Africa. Civil war?”
Samuel’s brows rose as if he were surprised. “Burundi. He’s originally from Burundi.”
“Damn it,” Harper muttered.
“Cool it.” Samuel passed Harper a lapel pin that would double as a listening device. “No showboating.”
He sighed and fixed the pin on his jacket. “I’ve got this.”
Samuel passed a critical eye over Harper’s clothing. “Make sure to keep the jacket on.”
He frowned at the other man. “What? After all that work, I have to keep it on?”
“If you take your jacket off, how am I supposed to hear you, dumb ass?”
Then what was the point of all that ironing?
“Fine.” Harper groaned then checked the time. “Got to go. Hope we put on a good enough show for you.”
“No showing off,” he called after Harper.
Seriously, Samuel needed to relax. Harper was taking a beautiful woman on a date. That was it. There would be no milking for information tonight. Just more establishing trust. Besides, he doubted they would talk about employees at all. It was random information crammed in Harper’s head.
More than anything, he needed to remember that this was a job. Not a real date. Robin was a mark, someone he needed to use to get to the big fish. He’d feel guilty about it later, not now.
There had been times yesterday afternoon when it was difficult to recall that he wasn’t talking to Robin for his own benefit. This was work. And yet, another time and place he would have liked to have spent time with Robin just for himself.
He did feel a little guilt at deceiving her. Only a little. If he’d learned anything this last year working with the Task Force, it was that sometimes they had to do unsavory things. If Robin’s uncle really was who Zora said he was Harper couldn’t make room for guilt.
Fifteen minutes later he pulled the car along the street in the heart of the Garden District with its stately old homes.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” he muttered eyeing the homes.
It was one thing to understand that the Garden District homes were where the wealthy lived. It was another thing to see it. The old, stately homes were from another era. He found it hard to believe he’d have anything in common with people who lived in homes like this.
He almost missed Robin’s house number because he was so engrossed in admiring the buildings themselves.
Robin’s family home was one of many antebellum-styled buildings. It was two or three stories with lots of columns and balconies. More wrought iron framed the place along with trees that had to be close to a hundred years old at this point.
