Page 55 of Assigned

Chapter Twenty-Four

Lucas

Istare at my ex-wife’s phone number on the caller ID of my phone. Literally have been back in Virginia Beach for five minutes. I haven’t even gotten to my truck yet and there she is, making my heart sink down to my boots. It didn’t use to be that way. Even after we’d split up. Since she got engaged and moved, though, every phone call has been some sort of argument. I could hit the “ignore call” button. But no, I can’t. Mason could need something. I pause in the shade of the hangar where our plane just landed and accept the call, preparing myself for the barrage of how I did something wrong.

“We need to talk.”

Yup. Definitely should’ve hit the ignore button.

I drop my pack to the ground, pinch the bridge of my nose and force my voice to come out as steady and calm as possible. “Hello, Lisa. About what?”

“Your wife.”

I grit my teeth. Yeah, fuck no. I thought this was going to be about Mason. If I’d known she wanted to complain about Riley, I definitely wouldn’t have answered. “Lisa, you have no say over my personal life. Including who I marry.”

“You’re right. But I do have a say over who Mason is around. And your wife is untrustworthy. Our son is not in good hands with her.” There is a bite to her voice, as if she’s prepared to fight.

I take the bait even as I know I shouldn’t. I’m exhausted and my defenses are low. This training was hard. Not just due to the nature of the exercise, but also because I hardly got a chance to speak to Riley or Mason. I miss my damn family. I was in a place where I didn’t have a second to myself, but I still felt lonely. Now my arms ache to be around them both.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Riley adores Mason. She’d do anything for him.” The damn woman pretty much ripped the head off his teacher, fighting for his well-being. The pressure in my head and shoulders increases. I rub at the back of my neck, trying to release the tension.

“Yeah, well, then explain to me why she couldn’t go pick up Mason after she said she would. Riley didn’t even bother to call me. Instead, she sent someone else, some stranger. What was so damn important?” Lisa’s breath is audible through the phone. “Did she have a date or something?”

That was a low blow and she knew it. Was she really insinuating that Riley was stepping out on me while I was gone? When had Lisa started fighting that dirty? Well, dirty is as dirty does. “Fuck you.” I hang up the phone. Damn it. I’ve never cursed at my ex-wife. Hell, I’ve never cursed at any woman before. I was raised in a “yes, ma’am/no, ma’am” household. Well, I did swear at that one nurse that time, but that was because she reset my thumb after I dislocated it. Hurt like a son of a bitch. Mother Teresa herself would have probably told that nurse where she could shove it.

My priority can’t be to win a fight, though. It has to be Mason, and for Mason’s sake, I need to be on good terms with his mother. I take a deep breath and, opening my text messages, I shoot off an apology to Lisa for my behavior and tell her I will call later. Then I tuck the device into my pocket. This shitstorm is not what I wanted to come home to.

I shoulder my pack and stalk over to my truck, jump in and head home. My foot is heavy on the gas, thanks to the ball of anger swirling around in my chest. Of course, it’s only made worse when Lisa’s nasty response to my text pops up on the truck’s CarPlay.

“We can talk later, but I’ve already spoken to my lawyer.”

“Goddamn it.” I slam my hand against the steering wheel. She reported the incident to the lawyer. What the hell did Riley do? I know she wouldn’t do anything to endanger Mason. I know it in my bones. Something shifts in my chest. Then again, my bones have been wrong about her before. I gave her my heart and my soul once, only to have her stamp them with “Return to Sender” and walk away. Now I have to go home and grill her about what happened. Again, not what I wanted to do after the way I left things three weeks ago. The two times we spoke, it felt like we were putting that behind us, that we were back on solid ground. I’d hoped we could stay on that track once I got home, but this is my son, and I won’t lose my relationship with him for her or for anyone. She better have a good explanation for whatever she did that’s put a bee up Lisa’s butt.

I open the truck windows, hoping the ocean breeze will calm me down, but no such luck. Not on a ninety-degree day with the humidity hovering in the low seventies. The air is a damp physical force to fight through and I’ve had too much fighting already. I rub my hand over my face. That’s got to be it. I’m tired. Maybe this isn’t as bad as I’ve made it out to be in my head. Lisa was never one to fly off the handle before, but maybe that’s changed.

I’d better follow up and get a few more facts before my mind spins totally out of control. Opening my contact list on the screen, I press my lawyer’s number. As the phone rings, I formulate questions to ask, trying to think it all through calmly, rationally. Especially since Lisa sounded anything but. It’s a losing battle, though. When the call connects, my stomach plummets, anxiety gripping me by the throat.

“Misoulis, Summers, and Associates. How can I help you?”

“Hi, this is Lucas Craiger. I’m a client of Mr. Summers. Is he available?”

“Please hold and I will check.”

The music that comes on the line further grates my nerves. Who thought making a Muzak version of “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” was a good idea? The guy in the car ahead of me is driving the... Exact. Speed. Limit. Like why? Shaking my head, I move into the left lane and pass the slowpoke. It’s not hard, bro. Just press down on the big rectangle.

I shrug my shoulders to release some of the tension. The sooner I get off the road, the better. Driving this anxious, this angry, is not safe. Luckily, I’m not too far from home. Just need to hold on a little bit longer. I take a big deep breath and count to ten as I let it out.

“Mr. Craiger. Nice to hear from you.” Dean Summers’s voice comes through the truck’s speakers.

“Hey, Dean.” I take another measured breath. “Listen, just got home from training. Lisa called me pissed to holy hell. Said she reported an incident to her lawyer.”

“Yes. I was waiting for your call. Seems your wife, Riley, sent someone to pick up your son when she was supposed to be the one to do it. The person wasn’t on the authorized card the school had, so they reached out to Lisa. Took them about thirty minutes to get clearance.” There was a pause. “To say Lisa was distressed is a bit of an understatement.”

“Who picked Mason up?” Did Riley send Genghis Khan or something? She barely knew anyone in Virginia Beach. Who could she have sent?

The sound of papers shuffling comes through the speakers. “An Inara Martinez.”

Okay, this shouldn’t be too bad. Tony is actually on the emergency contact card as an authorized person to help with Mason. What’s the big deal? “She’s the wife of one of my teammates. Her husband is one of the points of contact, in fact. That doesn’t seem like something to blow a gasket over.”