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My mind fills with a thousand similar scenes where Clive shouted at me, blaming me for things that weren’t my fault.
“Not good,” I murmur.
“Exactly. So let’s go and put your mind to rest.”
He opens the car door and nods towards it.
Curious, I drop into the passenger seat.
“So where are we going?” I ask once he’s climbed into the driver’s seat,
“I’m taking us to the bank. I’ll withdraw enough cash to give this Lyla enough time to find a new job. And that way you won’t have her weighing on your conscience.”
I gasp, staring at him wide-eyed. “Are you serious? You’d do that?”
He reaches over and squeezes my leg. “For you, my little artist, I’d do anything.”
Chapter Fourteen
Zack
I sit in the car across the street from Lyla’s house as Zoey goes inside to give Lyla the cash. My chest tightens as I watch my woman walking up to the rundown apartment building, the envelope clasped in her hands, seeing the way she approaches with care and affection evident in her every movement.
My cellphone rings out on the dashboard.
I’m calling my old friend Thomas, a man with connections to the CIA and half a dozen other intelligence agencies, some of them known to the general public and others not.
Rage is still swirling around my body as I watch Zoey walk into the building, my blood pumping when I think about the way that Clive motherfucker spoke to her.
It’s lucky he did as he was told and backed off because even if it would’ve been bullying to kick his ass, I’m not sure I would’ve been able to stop myself.
Glancing at the clock, I mark the time. I wanted to go into the apartment with Zoey, but she asked me if I could stay behind. Apparently, her work colleague, Lyla, is the proud sort and Zoey didn’t think she’d be willing to take it if a stranger stalked into her apartment offering her money.
We compromised by agreeing to wait five minutes and then – if Zoey hasn’t texted me back to let me know she’s okay – I charge in there and make sure nothing has happened.
This would seem like paranoia to most people, but there’s no damn way I’m going to risk what Zoey and I have when we’ve only just begun to build it.
“Zack?” Thomas says, in his usual clipped way.
“I need a favor,” I tell him.
He laughs gruffly. “I appreciate the bluntness. Get sick and tired of people calling me up for favors and then beating around the bush for the best part of an hour before coming out and saying it.”
I smirk. “You know that’s not my style.”
“What do you need?” he asks. “You know I’d do anything for you.”
I clench the steering wheel at his words. He thinks because I saved his brother in that op that went bad, that makes me a good man. But he never stops to mention the other men who lost their lives, the screaming and the pain and the hellfire of it all.
“I need a deep dive on a man named Jerry Schmidt,” I say. “He worked at Holy Hope summer camp a few years back, and he’s currently in the same city as me. He’s a tall bastard and swollen with steroids, but my contact tells me he used to be much leaner, just so you know for the ID.”
“His name and his place of employment should be enough to go on. Are you looking for anything specific?”
“I just need to know how dangerous he is.”
Thomas pauses, and then mutters, “Are you in any trouble, Zack? You know there’s a hell of a lot of people who’d come to bat for you if that was the case. I know you feel bad about what happened, how it went down, but nobody blames you.”
Except maybe me. I blame myself.
But I don’t elaborate, just wait for Thomas to go on as I drum my fingers against the steering wheel and watch the street.
“This shouldn’t take too long. I’ll go the extra mile for you, of course. How urgent is it?”
“That depends on how dangerous he is.” I laugh gruffly. “Just do what you can.”
“I always do. And Zack?”
“Yeah.”
“I meant what I said. Nobody blames you. Nobody ever has.”
He hangs up before I have a chance to reply, leaving me to ponder his words. I know that technically speaking, he’s right. I didn’t face any charges for what went down. If I were to look at it on paper, objectively, I’d come to the same conclusion as him.
But it’s far easier to be forgiving when you’re standing on the outside, looking in, not wrapped up in it all.
I check my phone as the five-minute mark approaches, relieved to see that my woman has texted me back. All good. She’s going to take the money. I’ll be out soon xxxxxx
