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Rather than give him directions to her home, she punched a few buttons on her phone and engaged her vehicle’s GPS. He spent the next fifteen minutes listening to Brodie’s excited chatter and Liv’s encouraging comments.
When they finally pulled to a stop outside a modest gray and white bungalow, he knew everything about the boy’s day. Right down to the clump of disgustingness that his friend Liam pulled from his right ear during lunch. The interplay between mother and son was both charming and exhausting.
He had only one burning question left unanswered. Opening her door, he asked, “Married?”
She swallowed before answering. “Widow.”
The tension in Zeke’s gut eased. He’d figure out who Pierce was later.
He held out her keys. “Are you going to be okay?”
“After a few ibuprofen, I’ll be fine.”
“And the. . . incident?”
“I’ll deal with it.”
Any other woman might have sobbed in his arms after getting bashed in the head. But not Special Agent Olivia Westcott. The only thing that streamed from her eyes was the promise of retribution, now that she knew her son was safe.
Had her assailant threatened the boy? It was the only thing that explained her single-minded flight to the school.
Brodie jumped down from the backseat, his eyes fixed on the action streaking across the tablet in his hands. Zeke squeezed his narrow shoulder. Something he’d done a thousand times with his brothers. “It was nice meeting you, Brodie.”
The boy said nothing, absorbed in his death and dismemberment fest.
“Is that Fortnite?”
Brodie shot him a wary glance, though he nodded.
“Have you made it to Champion Division yet?”
The boy’s eyebrows rose as he shook his head. “Have you?”
“Not yet, but I’m close.”
“Thank Zeke for driving us home,” Liv said.
“Thanks.”
Liv nudged him toward the house. “Let’s get you inside, sweetheart.” She started to walk away, but paused and looked back at Zeke. “Thank you for driving. It was—” she grimaced as though a bug had flown into her mouth “—the right decision.”
He suppressed a grin. “We have some unfinished business. Tomorrow?”
The bug must have latched onto her tongue, because her grimace deepened. “There’s a restaurant, Plate It, on the corner of Baldwin and Granite. I’ll meet you there at nine a.m.”
Every step Liv took away from him made his gut contract tighter and tighter until he realized his lungs hadn’t expanded for a while. He pushed out a breath and turned away.
Pull it together, Blackwell.
Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he tapped the ride share app, punched in his information, and moved to the foot of the driveway to wait.
It would be the longest ten minutes of his life.
