Page 90 of Oddly Fine

“I asked Franklin the same thing, but he was adamant that Beckett would be the one to come by and get the dog,” Matthew said, with a shrug. “He wouldn’t tell me why.”

But Becket knew. He’d figured it out when he’d seen Franklin alive and well.

“Seeing him convinced me my brother wasn’t dead,” Beck said, blowing out a breath.

“The dog?” Matthew asked, as though afraid he might have misunderstood.

Beckett merely shrugged in response, not really willing to get into it right then. It wouldn’t make any sense to anybody else anyway.

“Well alright then. Might I suggest you go home, pack your bags, and we’ll falsify your way home on a plane?”

“Falsify our what now?” Hayes asked, thoroughly confused.

“If anyone checks, I need Beckett Thérault heading back to the US, having flown home after the funeral of his brother. I have two men standing by with—alternate credentials, waiting to impersonate you at the airport,” he explained, shrugging like it was a simple matter and not an elaborate, illegal con.

Beckett attempted to control his temper by cracking his knuckles because what he really wanted to do was smash them into Matthew’s too-perfect nose. But he knew doing that would not be helpful. It would be fun, though.

“Just in case you were wondering—I do not approve of your having a relationship with my brother.”

Matthew barked a laugh and smiled with genuine amusement. Real amusement this time. Certainly more authentic than the smarmy, fake smiles they’d seen up to now—since this smile actually reached his eyes.

“Well, join the club, Your Highness,” he declared before clapping his hands in the universal signal for “let’s get this show on the road.”

Chapter 15

Bidding his mother goodbye felt like betrayal. He wasn’t going anywhere. Not really. Yet, here he was, pretending to be heading to the airport, his mother’s tearful expression begging him to stay. This, more than any other moment in his life, reminded him of when he’d enlisted and she—along with his father—had dropped him off at the bus station. She’d been a teary-eyed mess then too. Unable to comprehend why her youngest child would do such a thing as enlist in the Canadian military when he had the actual world at his feet. Fuck, Beckett hadn’t even had the “paying my way through college” excuse, since attending college in Canada wasn’t nearly as expensive as it was in the US. She’d hugged him like she would never see him again, and he’d forced himself out of her arms, breaking her heart for the first time.

He didn’t break her heart this time—it was already shattered into a million pieces.

“It’ll be alright,” he repeated several times as she kissed his cheeks.

“Of course,” she replied shakily in between sobs.

She was still angry with him for what he’d said at the funeral—but not as pissed off as Jackson, who’d outright refused to bid him goodbye beyond a simple nod and a begrudgingly muttered “I love you.” Beckett was pretty sure he’d gotten those parting words only because Franklin had recently passed away, which reminded the entire family of how fragile life was.

“You boys come back soon,” Cynthia said, as she finally peeled herself away from him, shooting Hayes a stern look.

“Of course,” Hayes agreed with a placating smile. Hayes wasn’t a bad liar per se, but he certainly didn’t look comfortable.

They left a few minutes later after packing their belongings—two duffel bags—into the SUV, loading up Nickel and his three bags stuffed with his “essentials” and hit the road.

They had to return their rental car to make it look as if they were leaving Montreal. Matthew had promised to have a car waiting for them in the car rental lot. It turned out to be a huge black sedan that looked like a cross between a hearse and a limo. It screamed “I-know-a-guy-who-knows-a-guy,” but apparently people didn’t bother to hide connections to the Mafia anymore. Beckett popped the trunk before he got anywhere near the driver’s side—just in case there was a dead body lying in wait—or maybe a horse’s head. Who the hell knew, right?

“You’re driving?” Hayes asked, not surprised, just uncertain. Beckett gave a sharp nod and got in. He’d hardly driven since learning of his brother’s death, except for the time they drove home from the police station. In general, Hayes had driving duty, which gave Beckett time to think and grieve. But Beckett wasn’t grieving anymore. Franklin was alive, and all he needed to do was bail his ass out of this FBI dog and pony show. Easy enough, right?

After leaving the car rental lot, they enjoyed a comfortable silence before the nagging thoughts bouncing around in Beckett’s head became too much to keep inside. He had to share them with Hayes if he had any hope of remaining sane.

“There’s no way our testimonies are going to be worth a shit,” Beckett remarked, because while he’d agreed to go along with this ridiculous plan of Matthew’s, he had zero faith in it working out for them. The damned thing had more holes in it than a block of Swiss cheese.

“Of course not,” Hayes said, in total agreement. “Even if by some miracle Mario Rosario confessed to human trafficking while we were in the room—any lawyer worth two cents would figure out a way to discredit us on the witness stand. Wouldn’t even be that hard. We’ve been arrested twice in the past year.”

This was an excellent summary of the key points running through Beckett’s mind.

“I only agreed to Matthew’s piece of shit plan because I intend on doing some snooping every chance I get. Anything to get this case moving along so we can go home. And it beats sitting on my hands and fucking waiting for the FBI to do its job.”

“Of course,” Hayes replied calmly.

“So why are you going along with it?” Beckett asked, suddenly wondering why his partner was so noticeably docile. Not that Hayes wasn’t used to going along with his batshit crazy plans by now, but still—