Wrong Turn, Right Direction

  I feel bad that I let him down, but I have to put Tee and me before his feelings. Like he said . . . I’m a survivor. “Maybe you could teach me to play something other than crazy eights. I’m ready to take a bigger risk on that.”

  “Is that so?” He holds out his hand. “Okay, then. Let’s do it.”

  I give him my cards and he shuffles the deck, taking a moment to move his chair closer to the table. “I could teach you how to play poker. Then we’ll see how good you are at bluffing.”

  “Sounds good.” I pause, smiling devilishly at him. “Not that I want to be good at fooling you or anything.”

  He shakes his head at me. “You think you’ve got me on the run, don’t you?”

  My heart skips a beat at his flirtatious tone. “I don’t know. Do I?”

  “Maybe,” he says, shuffling the cards again. “Maybe you do.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  One thing Thibault failed to get at the warehouse store was feminine products. He’s kind enough to drive me first thing in the morning to the convenience store and wait in the car with the baby strapped into his seat as I shop for what I need. I have just enough money left in my wallet. I’m pretty sure I’m their first customer of the day.

  As I climb back into the SUV with my bag in hand, Thibault’s phone rings. He picks it up.

  “Thibault.” He glances at me in the rearview mirror, giving me a thumbs-up and a questioning look.

  I nod. “All good.”

  Thibault goes back to his phone call. “Yeah, no, it’s fine. Perfect timing, actually. You got lucky, because I usually don’t have a signal. I thought you were going to email me.”

  He laughs. “Yeah, yeah, keep bragging about your big hands, man. You’re wasting your time, though; I don’t play for that team. Just buy a bigger keyboard, why don’t you.”

  A man’s voice comes dimly through the phone’s earpiece. When it stops, Thibault responds. “You did? Great. What did he say?”

  I try really hard to listen in, but the voice is muffled by Thibault’s ear.

  He lifts the phone away from his face when he catches me staring at him. Then he puts the mouthpiece near his lips. “Hold on a second. I’m going to put you on speaker.”

  “Are you sure you want to do that?” a male voice says, coming out into the car.

  “Yeah. You’re on speakerphone. You were about to tell me what you found out.”

  “Uhhh, okay. Hi, Mika. Are you there?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Okay. Cool. Hi. Sooo, what was I saying? Oh, yeah. You wanted to know what I found out after talking to Holloway.” He pauses. “A lot, actually. I’m not sure the guy knows the definition of the word confidential, but anyway, he was happy to fill me in on the details, which was mighty convenient.”

  Thibault looks at me apologetically. I shake my head. Turns out I’m working with one of the Keystone Cops. Great. Just my luck.

  “There was no pushback whatsoever.”

  “Lay it on us,” Thibault says. “You’re making me worry.”

  “Okay, so this guy . . . Pavel Baranovsky? He’s a really bad dude.”

  “Yeah, I got that impression already.”

  I nod. He’ll get no argument from me there.

  “No, I mean like notoriously bad. Like, he’s kingpin-murdering Russian-mafia asshole bad.”

  I smile bitterly. Yep, sounds about right. Leave it to me to find the very worst Russian of the bunch and then get a job with him. God, I was so young and naïve.

  “Yep. Got it. Mika was pretty clear about that.”

  “He’s moving drugs, guns, women . . . the works.”

  “Guns? I didn’t hear about that from her.”

  I shake my head at Thibault when he looks up at me. I have no idea what Dev is talking about.

  “Yeah. Guns. If there’s something illegal going on in Louisiana, he’s got his hand in it.”

  “Why haven’t we heard about him before?” Thibault asks.

  “Because he’s FBI material. The local PD usually hands those cases off to them and just gets out of their way. Our contract’s for work on local stuff only. You know that. He’s first-generation Russian mafia, not one of our homegrown gangbangers.”

  “So why is the district talking to her and not the FBI?”

  “From what I could gather, it’s some political game-playing. Not that Holloway came out and said that, but he made some comments. I think they’re tired of being shoved in a back drawer by the FBI, so they’re looking to get some cred for themselves before they hand the evidence over.”

  “Bastards,” I say. How dare they involve me in their ego-driven politics!

  Thibault nods, agreeing with me.

  “Hey, you know how it works over there; they play jurisdictional games all the time. This is nothing new.”

  Thibault looks right at me when he asks his next question. “What’s Mika’s reputation over there at the district?”

  “Well . . . ah . . . She hasn’t given them a whole lot yet. They were trying to get her to give them his movements, but she was playing hard to get. At least that’s what he said. He said she was always acting cagey.” He pauses. “Sorry, Mika. I’m just repeating what I heard.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” I thought I had a friend at the NOPD, but I guess I was wrong about that. I look at Thibault, realizing I need his help now more than ever, or I will seriously be all alone. Me and Tee against the world . . . a world that happens to be owned by Pavel.

  “Do they have a theory on why she was doing that?” Thibault asks. He reaches out and taps my knee once. I take it to mean he’s being supportive. It eases the pain in my heart just a little.

  “They thought maybe she was getting cold feet.”

  “Did you tell him she was pregnant?”

  “No. Was I supposed to?”

  “No.”

  “Cool. Anyway, they heard through the grapevine that she disappeared, and they also talked to Toni before, who told them she knows where Mika is, so they’re wondering what’s going on and what we know about it.”

  “None of them realized she was the one on the news with the baby? Did you tell them anything?”

  “No, they didn’t. I told Holloway that we heard from her, but that was it. He was glad she’s still alive. He pushed to get more info from me, but I told him I didn’t have any.”

  “Good. Perfect. So you confirmed that she’s definitely a CI and she’s on their payroll?”

  “Yep. It’s all legit. But she’s not on the payroll. She’s working voluntarily and isn’t taking any money from anybody for it.”

  “Did they tell you what it was she was going to provide to them specifically, besides his movements?”

  “Well, they know that she does his finances, so they’re hoping she can give them some hard evidence, but they don’t have a specific idea about what exactly that will be.”

  “Did you tell them the stuff on the list I gave you?”

  “No. I thought I’d tell you this first and then let you decide our next move.”

  “Okay, good. Could you hold on a sec?”

  “Yeah, no problem.”

  Thibault looks at me, covering the phone with his hand. “Can we give Holloway that list?”

  Panic hits me like a punch to the chest. “I’m not sure what I should do.”

  Thibault fixes me with a stare. He looks like he’s trying to see into my head. “You said you don’t have a computer or any other electronics. How are you going to access all the information on Pavel if you’re leaving?”

  Can I trust you, Thibault, or are you going to screw me over too? I look down at my son sleeping peacefully in his seat and then back up at the man who’s offered me sanctuary. I learned watching him play poker last night that every time he tried to bluff me, he moved his jaw left and right. Right now, it’s completely still.

  “I put all of the data on a cloud account. It can be accessed from anywhere as long as you have the account number and passwo
rd.”

  Thibault nods, chewing his lip as he thinks that through. Then he puts the phone back up between us. “Dev?”

  “Yep, I’m here.”

  “Do me a favor and don’t share that stuff outside the team yet. I’ll get back to you.”

  “Okay. I have one more thing to say, though.”

  “Sure, go ahead.” Thibault’s expression tells me he’s as curious as I am.

  “I know we deal with criminals all the time, but they’re small-time in comparison to Pavel. This guy is operating in other states, too.”

  “Mika, did you know this?” Thibault asks.

  “I know he does deals with people overseas, but as far as I know his business is concentrated in Louisiana.”

  “He might keep that stuff separate from what Mika’s working on. But the fact is, she knows a lot about his enterprise, and it’s a big one, so he’s gonna want to find her. And he’s got a lot of dough; I’m talking millions.”

  His words send a shiver through me. I already know this, but to be reminded of it is enough to make me want to run to the farthest reaches of the globe.

  “How do you know that? Did Jenny find stuff on him already?”

  “No, she’s not on it yet. She had a problem with Sammy yesterday that kept her up last night, but she’s going to work on it all day today. I heard this from Detective Holloway.”

  “Oh.” Thibault reaches out and takes my hand. I let him because I need the human connection. It’s very uncomfortable for me to listen in on two men discussing my life like this. I feel untethered, no longer linked to the world. Thibault’s touch brings me back down to earth.

  “Also, this guy Pavel doesn’t live large like you’d expect him to, so they suspect he’s got a lot of money hidden away. If he wants to find Mika, he’s got the resources for it. And if he’s hiding his money somewhere, she probably knows where, and he’s not going to want her telling anyone about it. You need to be real careful.”

  My ears are burning. Dev is clearly doing his job, but he basically just told my knight in shining armor that he’s holding a ticking time bomb. Me being the bomb, of course.

  “Remind Toni and Lucky to be sharp,” Thibault says. “I destroyed her phone but not soon enough, probably. He could have started a trace that’ll get him close to my neighborhood.”

  “Will do. But I think they’re already on it. Jenny said something about them having their house tented for termites or something? I think they’re moving in with May and Ozzie until the fumigation is done, anyway.”

  “Cool. Thanks, man. I gotta go.” Thibault hangs up and lets go of my hand. He doesn’t turn around, though. He keeps looking at me.

  “Pretty ugly, huh?” I ask. “Welcome to my life.” I reach over and pull Tee’s blanket up higher.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he says.

  “Not yet, you’re not,” I say.

  He turns around and starts the truck. We leave the parking lot and drive all the way back to the cabin without exchanging another word.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  When we get back to the cabin, Tee needs to be fed, changed, and bathed, and so do I. It takes up most of my morning and thoughts, but when I’m finally done and the two of us smell and look clean again, I settle down on the couch with a book. Problem is, I can’t concentrate on the words.

  “What’s that you’ve got there?” Thibault asks, dropping down into the chair across from me.

  I flip it over. “Me Before You.”

  “No, don’t read that one,” he says, frowning.

  “Why? I heard it’s good.”

  “Yeah, but do you have enough tissues? Because it’s going to make you cry your eyes out.”

  I laugh. “Did you read it?”

  “Hell, no. Do I look like a man who would read romances?”

  The banter is silly, but it lightens the mood. “I don’t know. You seem pretty sensitive.”

  “Well, I’m not that sensitive.” He pauses. “May read it. She was a mess. It was when she and Ozzie were living at the warehouse, before they bought their house together, so she finished it before we came in for work. She’d stayed up all night, and damn, she looked like hell. Her eyes, even her nose, were swollen. I thought she got in a fight with Ozzie or something.”

  I put the book on the table. “Okay, that’s all I need to know. My life is already sad enough; I don’t need to read about someone else’s misery.”

  “It’s not all bad,” he says.

  I pick Tee up from the couch next to me where he’s sleeping. Staring down into his face, I have to agree. “I do have this little guy going for me, at least.”

  “He’s getting big already,” Thibault says.

  “Well, he should with how much he eats.” I reach down and squeeze his tiny thigh through his blanket. It is bigger. It makes me proud. At least I’m doing something right.

  “How about we play some more poker? I’ll teach you some different variations.”

  “Nah, cards are boring.”

  “How about if I up the ante . . . We can play for money.”

  I laugh. “What money? I just spent my last dime on sanitary pads.”

  He stands and gestures at me. “Come on. I’ll show you.” He takes the baby’s car seat and sets it down near the kitchen table. I follow him and place the baby inside. Tee doesn’t even twitch an eyelid, he’s so sound asleep.

  Thibault deals the cards. “Okay, so here’s our money.” He reaches around to the shelf behind him and grabs a bag of Cheetos, opening them and spilling them out. He divides them between us. “Big ones are worth ten, little ones five.”

  I’m trying really hard not to laugh. He’s acting so serious, but now he’s got Cheetos dust on his nose. I’m not saying a word.

  He deals the cards. “We’re going to play seven-card draw. Aces wild. Small Cheeto ante.”

  I play along, all the while trying to decide if I should go all in with Thibault, share the username and password to the cloud account so his team can get the information they need and give it to the police. I could finally leave and start my new life out in the world while Pavel starts his in prison, assuming no one screwed me over along the way.

  “That’s the fifth time you’ve grinned at me like that in the last two minutes,” he says during our sixth hand. “Stop trying to psych me out.”

  I’m tired of playing and anxious to move on. With everything. I’ve overheard his phone conversations, one of which he let me listen in on, and I’ve yet to hear him try to double-cross me. In fact, he’s withholding information the cops want, people he works with, in an effort to help me out. If I’m going to trust anyone right now, it has to be him.

  I move my cards up to hide my mouth. “Don’t try to make excuses so you can get out of the game. I’m about to take all your money.”

  He looks down at the table. There are thousands of Cheeto bucks at stake. “Please . . . ,” he scoffs. “I’m gonna be snacking all day on my winnings. How many cards do you want?” He gestures at me with his chin, trying to look like a badass Vegas dealer.

  “Give me two,” I say. “Two good ones. Don’t be givin’ me any more of that junk, either.” I slide two cards over, and he gives me two in return.

  “I’m not going to take any,” he says, his jaw moving back and forth. “I’m satisfied with what I have in my hand here. Your bet.”

  I smirk. It’s almost too easy. “I bet you thirty Cheeto bucks I’m going to win.” I slide three large Cheetos over to the pot, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

  “How about this . . . I’m all in.” He pushes the rest of his Cheetos into the center of the table to join the others.

  “Fine. I can handle it.” I slide my few remaining snacks into the center of the table too. “I call. I’m good for the rest.” I gesture at the uneven pot balance.

  “What do you have?” he asks.

  “Let’s put them down at the same time.” I smile really big. My triumph is near and I’ve decided: I’m going to
tell him everything.

  “Fine. Show me what you got.”

  We both put our cards down.

  “Full house,” I say, shimmying my shoulders and snapping my fingers. Then I point at his crap cards on the table in front of him. “And all you have is a pair of twos. Poor Thibault, you lost to a girl.” I give him a giant fake pout for a few seconds before going back to my shimmy dance.

  He folds his arms. “Damn, girl. You’ve been holding out on me.”

  I reach out and put my arms around the pile of Cheetos so I can drag them over to my side of the table. I take one off the top and crunch down on it. “I’m a pretty lucky person most of the time, actually.”

  “Oh really? Do tell. I can’t wait to hear the evidence you’re going to try to use to back this claim up.”

  I sit back and fold my arms over my chest to mimic his posture. “I ran you over, didn’t I? Wrong turn, right direction.”

  He laughs so hard it makes the veins stick out in his neck. “Damn,” he finally says when he can speak again. “If that’s good luck, I’d hate to see your bad luck.”

  I know he meant it as a joke, but he’s right. My bad luck is pretty bad. “No, you don’t want to see that.” I stand and stretch, my shirt coming up to expose my skin. I catch him looking. I stand straight and pull my shirt down. “Stop staring at my fat belly.”

  “Your belly is not fat. And I wasn’t staring.”

  I look down at myself. “I used to have a totally cute stomach. I guess that’s over now.” It seems silly to worry about my body at this point, but I’m sitting across from a gorgeous man who at any other moment in my life I’d be drooling over and wishing I could date. I have more than a few regrets about the way things rolled out.

  “You’ll go back to the way you were before. But I think you look just fine now. Better than fine.”

  I gather the cards together. “Stop flirting with me. You’re not supposed to do that. I’m pretty sure it’s against the rules.”

  “Whose rules?”

  “Your rules.”

  “Screw the rules.”

  I pause, looking at him to see how drunk he got with those beers he drank during lunch. “Are you sure you’re allowed to say that, Superman?”