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“The woman refused to testify?”
“He paid her off.”
She frowns, a look that announces her disquiet and maybe even disgust. She’s not the only one. I lost full use of my leg, my contract, but the lad who’d been about to kidnap and rape an innocent woman had lost nothing. He’d even gone on to have a magnificent career—only to revert to form. Years later, he was arrested for trying to rape a different woman.
We stop in front of the soup kitchen. People are lined up. The smell of beans and peppers fills the air.
As if she’s used the silence to put the details together, Dee says, “The papers began to spin a different story. You went after him in a drunken rage. Him shooting you was self-defense.”
“Team had to spin it that way or the squad would’ve lost two star players.”
She grabs my hand, surprising me. Her hand is warm and soft.
I swallow.
She says, “They didn’t have to. The fact that they would’ve lost games or money was no reason to lose their morals. You deserved better.”
The warmth of her skin releases the knot of emotion in my throat, giving way to something else.
Gently, I pull my hand away.
Clenching and unclenching my damp palm, I tell her, “Next time we talk, I want to hear about you. About how you came to be a nun. Deal?”
A troubled expression crosses her lovely face. “That story would be filled with more errors than those articles written about you.”
With that bit of makes-you-wonder, she turns and enters the soup kitchen.
6
DADA
Seated on the floor of my sparse room at the convent, I wave my wrist—chipped with a security device and GPS tracker—over my laptop.
The computer beeps mechanically.
A moment more and I’ve entered a secure site on the dark web. I stare at a blue screen, until there’s another beep and a box appears with my sister, Justice, inside.
A smile cracks her sharply angled face as she begins to laugh. “Do they make you wear that fucking hat in your sleep? The shower?”
I’ve gotten so used to the habit that I forgot I have it on. I click my teeth together and glare. Justice’s Indigenous heritage has blessed her with the kind of regal beauty that makes her fierce and combative nature seem all the more incongruous.
Thankfully, she is most comfortable with someone who is blunt, and I’m happy to oblige. I’m nothing if not adaptable. “Laugh all you want, abrasive one, but remember I’m doing all of this for your mission.”
“Testy,” Justice says. “It’s the celibacy thing, isn’t it?”
She laughs at her own joke, but before I can respond, another box appears. Gracie. The side of her face and her red hair are the only thing visible as she focuses on one of the many computer screens in her office.
“Hey,” Gracie says, finally looking at her central monitor. Her green eyes widen. Her hand comes up, smothering her laughter.
Joyous news. This is the way my night is going to go.
Tony pops on, chewing something he nearly spits out as his laughter booms over me like a car horn on full blast. His hazel eyes focus on the screen. “D,” he says, wiping at tears running down his face. “You found it. The one cover ya can’t pull off.”
“There’s a reason Momma only adopted two boys,” I tell Tony.
Unbothered, he says, “All the male cool needed to balance out you twenty-six lame-o’s.”
Something about Tony’s South Philly accent makes his humor hard to resist. My betraying mouth begins to give way.
