Page 61 of Fixed Asset

I took that as the compliment it was meant to be.

“We’re lucky.”

“Glad to have you on the team, Catarina.”

I took that compliment and locked it deep.

“Good to be on the team.”

That meant when I walked away from Mason, I did it smiling.

Chapter Seventeen

Catarina stood with her backpack over her shoulder, arms crossed over her chest, eyes on my truck, frown firmly in place.

“If I’d seen this first, I would’ve been worried,” she strangely said.

I beeped the locks and reached for the door handle. “What?”

“It’s jacked up,” she rightly noted.

“Yeah.”

“Chevy Silverado HD, all blacked out and jacked up. That gives a woman pause, Jack. You know what they say about men with big trucks . . . they’re overcompensating for the small penises.”

I opened the passenger door and held out my hand. “Then it’s good you’ve seen my dick and know that’s not the case.”

Cat swung her pack off her shoulder and handed it over.

“See you tomorrow,” Mason yelled from across the parking lot as he pulled himself up into his truck.

Cat looked in his direction and waved. “Guess he’s not part of the Chevy family.”

Mason wasn’t part of any family except maybe Pete’s, but that didn’t extend to truck manufacturers.

“Mason is his own man.”

“His has a lift too.”

We’d just gotten off a six-hour flight from Belize. This after two hours in the car to get to the airport. It wasn’t late but it was well after dinner, and I was exhausted and hungry. Still, I’d stand in the parking lot of Brown Field having a ridiculous conversation about nothing if that conversation was with Catarina.

“I can’t say for certain,” I started. “I don’t have personal knowledge and don’t want it. But if the rumor is true, that lift on his truck says not one thing about what he’s packing.”

Mason’s Ram roared to life.

“What about the exhaust? Does that say something about what he’s packing?”

Mason gunned the engine, showing off for Catarina, and fishtailed out of the parking lot.

“Not sure what that says, baby. Hop up.”

Her foot went to the running board, and she heaved herself up. Before I could close the door, she asked, “So what’s the rumor?”

I should’ve known she wouldn’t let that go.

“That he’s hung like a horse.”

Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Damn, that must suck for him.”