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Earlier in the day, he’d been friendly. Borderline flirty.
The bright sunlight blinds me the second I step out of the building, and I pat down my pockets for my sunglasses.
There’s an SUV parked illegally on the street. The backseat passenger door is open. A man with a shaved head is driving, and Ivan is in the front passenger seat.
“Hey, Damian,” Gemma calls from the back seat.
With my hand sheltering my eyes, I attempt to peer into the backseat, but it’s difficult to see into the vehicle.
“Hi. What’d you do with Sophia?”
“Right here,” a familiar voice calls. and I turn, scanning the sidewalk. An odd sense of relief washes over me as she approaches, striding down the sidewalk with the confidence of a runway model. “Had to park.”
Rafael thrusts his hand in front of me and gives it a firm, quick shake. “I’ll be in touch.”
He gets into the back seat and the door slams shut. Sophia settles against me, her arm wrapping naturally around my lower back, and we both wave. She’s wearing sunglasses, but I squint into the sun until the SUV turns right at the stop sign and moves out of view.
One car parked on the opposite side of the road peels out, pulls up to the stop sign, and turns right. On a bench, an older man in a fedora reading a book gets up from the bench in front of the dry cleaners and nods, then strolls out of view, around the corner.
I glance up and down the street. Confident that’s the last of our CalTan teammates, I gesture to the office door.
“Should we go inside?”
Sophia weaves her fingers through mine and tugs, leading us in the opposite direction of the Toros and the fedora man.
“Everything okay?”
“I think so. Just feeling the need to talk where we won’t run a risk of being heard.”
Adrenaline surges. It’s something I’m fully aware of because the bright light becomes painfully brighter, the sound of passing cars louder, and an irrational desire to wrap Sophia up and haul her behind a bulletproof shield rises.
“Did something happen?”
“Yes.”
I scan the street ahead of us. A mother pushing a stroller approaches from the opposite side of the street. Two parked cars line the street, but both are empty. We’re the only two pedestrians on this side of the street, although a cyclist approaches up ahead. I scan the roofline.
“Go ahead,” I tell her, my grip around her small hand tightening. I’m not carrying, but I crave the comfort of my Glock at my waist.
Of course, she doesn’t need my clearance. She’s conducted the same risk assessment.
“Lauren ran into us. I played it off. But Gemma might be suspicious. If felt like she was thinking about it on the way to meet you guys.”
“Something was off with Rafael when he left too. It could have been a text he received—”
“From Gemma?”
“I couldn’t see his phone screen. Or, right before he left, he was digging into my family history. He may have realized I’m not an ideal candidate.”
“How did it go before then?”
“Good. Seemed interested in my business. Asked me my views on a few different investment strategies.” I think back on our afternoon together. There was also a lot of nothing discussion. Best surfing locations, hang gliding, windsurfing. He struck me as someone who felt much more comfortable shooting the shit than actually discussing business.
“Everything was fine until he got a text?”
“Yeah. He asked Ivan to locate you. Said they needed to go.”
Our stroll slows. Up ahead is a busier intersection, and we’ll be in the mix of pedestrians.
