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“If you’d like, Rosie and Stern can stay here. I’ll take good care of them and they’ll be ready whenever you’d like to pick them up, whenever that may be.”
“Dammit, I…thank you. Thank you, Ridge, you’re one hell of a guy. I knew you’d understand.” He stands up, holding out a shaky hand. “We’ll be heading out bright and early, so I’ll say my goodbyes now, if you don’t mind.”
I stand and give his hand a firm pump, knowing full well I’ll be seeing him in the morning. Then I release him and watch as he walks toward the door.
“When you’re ready for help loading, I’m here. Come to me. Tobin shouldn’t be doing all the lifting at his age.”
He stops at the door, coughs, and with watery eyes, looks at me again. “I wish like hell I could take you up on that. I truly do.”
As soon as he closes the door, I pull out my phone. Finding the number I need in the contacts, I punch it and wait for the ring.
It only takes one. I’d be surprised if it was any different.
“Barnet? Hell of a big storm, wasn’t it? You okay, man?” The familiar Oklahoma twang over the line makes me grin.
I’m not surprised Quinn Faulkner is just as buried as I’ve been. He lives on a smaller farm ten or so miles away, his grandpa’s old place where he used to spend his summers.
“Yeah, it’s me. Should I kick your ass now or later for ever mentioning the words ’Dallas, North Dakota’ without telling me about the winters?”
“Aw, shucks. You’d have never moved here to keep me company if I scared you off.” His deep laughter echoes in the phone. “Tell me what’s really got you pissed. Finally decided you need a real man in one of your movies? I’m ready.”
“I’d call Andrews if that was the case, Faulk,” I say jokingly.
The three of us were in more than one mission together that went sideways during our years in the service, and Joel Andrews never quit boasting about how good he’d look on the big screen.
Faulkner chuckles again. “Good luck with that, bro. He’s in South America, living it up in Panama or something on a budget.”
“I heard,” I tell him. “Well, maybe Grady deserves his fifteen minutes of fame. Any dude raising two little munchkins alone is more man than I’ll ever be.”
After a short pause, he says, “Seriously, Ridge, what’s going on? I’ve been thinking about you lately. Haven’t met up since we had a beer shortly after New Year’s.”
“Better question: how are you?”
“You know me, I’m always good every day I’m working for myself. Spying on cheating husbands and dropping trackers on guys with minor warrants beats getting shot at any day.”
I laugh. Faulkner has always been full of himself, and since leaving the service, he’s made a name for himself as a private eye after serving several years in the FBI.
I haven’t needed to use him until now. Enlisting his services for anything seemed far-fetched until recently.
“Listen, I’m calling to ask a favor. Can I trust you with a secret?”
The laughter stops. I hear him take a sharp breath, realizing how serious I am.
“Sure. What’s up?” he asks.
“I need intel on a man. ASAP.”
“You got it. Give me a name and I’ll dig up everything right down to his birth certificate.”
“Nelson Sellers. Lived in Wisconsin. Milwaukee first, and then moved somewhere outside of it. Owned a pumpkin farm.”
“Pumpkins? Shit, do I even want to know? Is this some weird movie star thing?”
“Faulk, just trust me on this. I’ll explain the rest later.” I’m sure he expected me to be asking about a big-time star or politician, someone far more high profile than a random pumpkin farmer from Bumfuck, Wisconsin.
“Okay, okay. Give me an hour or two and I’ll send something back. I’ve gotcha covered, Barnet.”
The line goes dead.
I click off and stand up, ready to have a few words with Tobin.
7
No Surrender (Grace)
“What’s so interesting? You haven’t even looked up once, Gracie.”
I finally glance up at Dad’s voice, startled that I hadn’t heard him walk in the cabin.
Oof. I’ve been deep in the weeds, scouring every Wikipedia tidbit and gossip rag I can find for info on Ridge Barnet.
I flip my phone down against the plaid cushion of the sofa before Dad sees. He’s no stranger to gossip, but I’m not sure he’d approve of me snooping on our host.
“Oh, just browsing decorating sites and Pinterest boards,” I tell him, flashing a smile that hurts my face.
It’s not a complete lie. That’s what I’d started out doing, but of course curiosity got its hooks in, and I wound up creeping on Ridge instead.
Can you blame me?
It hasn’t even been a full forty-eight hours since my whole world was turned upside down for the second time by this gorgeous Bruce Wayne who decided to play real life Batman.
