“What’s going on?”
I exhale, shifting against the seat. “Ramirez’s paranoia isn’t going away. I’m concerned about the plan working.”
Katherine is quiet for a beat. “What do you suggest?”
“We stop trying to cover our tracks. We let Ramirez think he’s figured it out, let him believe he’s found the leak.”
“You have a plan?”
“Yeah,” I say, a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth.
“Will she go along with it?”
I run my thumb across my fat lip. “Yeah, she’ll go along with it.” And likely love every second of it.
Chapter 37
Cybil
I-35 Texas
Sunday evening
If I had a dollar for every time I told myself, “This is probably fine,” before doing something wildly not-fine, I could pay off my student loan. At least one of them. Okay, maybe half of one.
Still. Way too many times. But all those other times, I was the only one at risk. This time, it’s more than my life at risk.
I take a curve a little too fast, my tires skimming the gravel. A mile marker blurs by, followed by the smear of what remains of an armadillo that clearly didn’t make a great decision today.
“You’re sure this will work?” I ask, voice low.
Ben’s answer comes too fast. Too sure. “I trust you.”
I grip the wheel tighter, knuckles paling. The planshouldwork. Ben’s confident tone assures me it has all the makings of a covert success, but there’s one problem.
Me.
Two weeks ago, when Ben’s smug face came back into my life, I would have had no problem with the plan. Nine days ago, when Ben found me in Italian velour splattered with smashed fruit and tried to cover up his laughter at my expense, I might’ve hesitated, but today?
Today, after Ben’s confession, my heart hasn’t stopped doing thisswoopy, fluttery thing. Romantic in theory. Completely inconvenient when you need to fake confidence in front of a mobster.
“You’re sure I’m the right person for this?” I ask. “Because there’s a fine line between brilliantly unhinged and ‘Please notify next of kin.’”
Ben’s laugh crackles over the line. “You’re the one I want.”
My heart swoops even though he’s not saying it in the way my heart wants to believe. “That’s brave considering you could probably pick someone who doesn’t still daydream about payback involving hot sauce and duct tape.”
“You dream about me?”
His voice is teasing, rich, and far too smug for someone who’s trusting me with his life. I roll my eyes and will my heartbeat back to normal. “Not in a ‘you’d enjoy it’ kind of way.”
He laughs, low and pleased with himself. “That sounds like denial, Langford.”
“That sounds like ego,Miller.”
“You wound me.”
“Not yet,” I say, but I’m smiling now. The tension in my chest eases—not gone, but quieter.
