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“Abby,” I sighed. “You can’t keep sticking your neck out for me. You have to stop. You’re getting in too deep, and if you’re caught, you’ll get arrested, too. If I go down for this, I can handle it. If you’re arrested, Pigeon … I’ll never forgive myself. You have to stay out of it.”
“Travis …”
“No, damn it! I know you’re scared, but you’re done.”
“I’ve already lied to the police and the Feds. If you go down, webothgo. I’m not going to let it happen.”
I scrunched my face. I felt helpless. I couldn’t fix it. I just had to wait for us to get away with it … or not.
“We have to be careful, Travis. Whatever it is, he’s one step ahead. I … I need to tell you something. And please know that I didn’t tell you right away because I didn’t want you to hate your job more than you already do.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “What the fuck did he do?”
“Remember when I ran into him in the parking lot after my lunch with Cami? He was acting really weird.”
“Weird how? Nervous or flirting?”
She hesitated. “He doesn’t strike me as a man who gets nervous.”
“So, he was flirting.” I felt murderous. “You think he’s trying to get me out of the way?”
“Surely not,” she said with a sigh. “That’s insane. Even for him. I made it very clear, as politely as I could, that he repulsed me.”
“Did he touch you?”
“Babe …”
I closed my eyes. “Did he touch you?” I said, my voice firmer than I’d intended.
She paused before answering again. “He kissed my hand. I pulled it away. Travis, listen to me. Breathe. Do not go back there and confront him about it. It’s probably what he wants. Travis?”
Every muscle in my body twitched uncontrollably. Rage welled up within me with such force, the only thing keeping me from sprinting out to my motorcycle and running it straight through Iron E’s glass wall, and straight at him, was the sound of my wife’s voice.
“You go after him and he’ll press charges. You can’t keep him away from me if you’re in jail. Please? Travis? Answer me, damn it!”
I took a deep breath. “I’m coming home to you as soon as I’m done.”
She exhaled. The next words she spoke sounded a hundred miles away. “You promise?”
“I promise, Pigeon.”
“I need you home tonight. Do not break your promise to me, Travis Carter. I don’t care what he says to goad you, you come home to me.”
“I’ll keep my promise. I love you. I’ll be home around nine.”
“It’s going to be okay, I promise. We’ll figure it out, and it’s going to be okay.”
I took a deep breath and nodded. “It will be.”
“Trav,” she warned.
“He’ll get his. But not tonight.”
“That’s good enough for me. I love you,” she said, emphasizing the last three words before ending the call.
I chugged the rest of my water, took a piss, and then stared at myself in the mirror while I washed my hands. I towel dried them, then checked my watch. I had a client in five minutes. I rushed out to my bike and headed back to the gym, but something caught my eye.
Brandon’s truck was parked at the Pizza Shack near the back, and he was standing next to it with his arms crossed over his chest, in deep conversation with two men in dark suits. The same two men we’d seen at Biasetti’s.
