Page 134 of Luck of the Draw

She just couldn’t think about that right now.

She forced a smile up at him. “I’m not worried.”

33

AVONDALE, LOUISIANA

They’d strapped a bullet proof vest on Brennan.

A bullet proof vest.

That couldn’t be a good sign.

They’d also strapped a bizarre pouch to his hips, under his slacks, which rested right on his groin, and Skye couldn’t help asking the obvious question.

“Is that to keep them from shooting your penis?”

Everyone shared a laugh over that, Skye included, but her laughter was chock-full of nerves. The pouch, she’d been informed, was a super-concealable gun holster, but they didn’t put a gun in it, rather a listening device. So Brennan was walking into an ugly situation with people who were likely armed to the teeth, with nothing more than a flimsy-looking vest and a microphone. And Skye was physically ill.

She and Brennan, Constance and Orson, and a whole slew of FBI agents had taken up temporary residence in a house for rent that sat right around the block from a small Italian restaurant where Brennan was to meet up with the mafia man and his thugs. He was set to meet with them at eleven o’clock, and he was to casually arrive at 11:06. He would carry a laptop bag, which he’d lead them to believe was full of cold, hard cash, but it actually just held a bunch of theater money. The plan was to engage them in conversation, to negotiate not handing over the money, rather propose an ongoing arrangement in which Brennan would finance further endeavors, the purpose of which was to simply piss them off and get them to threaten him by way of explaining what they’d done to previous people who didn’t pay up.

The goal was to get a confession and then get Brennan the hell out of there, and it all looked very good on paper.

Nevertheless, at 10:45, Skye was pretty sure she experienced her very first chest pain. She was convinced that at 11:06 her heart would stop altogether.

At 10:50, Brennan prepared to get in his car so he could circle the block before getting on the main road that led to the restaurant. Skye waited by the front door while he got some last-minute instructions from one of the agents, and then approached Constance, who stood up from a sofa while clutching a handkerchief so tightly that her knuckles were white. They hugged each other, he kissed her cheek, and she kissed his. She whispered something in his ear, and he lifted her hand to kiss it.

“Don’t say that, Mama,” he said in a low, steady voice. “This is not anywhere near as bad as a deployment. I’ll be back in no time at all.”

Constance pressed her face against his cheek and then stepped away, sitting down on the sofa again and holding the handkerchief to her nose and mouth. Brennan approached Orson with an outstretched hand, which Orson used to pull him in for a quick hug and a shoulder pat. Orson’s face was stoic, and the two men exchanged a few casual words. Brennan reached into his inside jacket pocket and produced a letter-sized manila envelope that was folded in half. He used it to gesture at Orson as he said a few more things, and Orson smiled warmly. He nodded before they shook hands one last time.

Brennan stepped away, crossing the room toward Skye, and still holding the envelope. He stopped in front of her, wearing a smile that she could see right through. His espresso eyes were chock-full of anxiety. If he was worried, there was no hope for the rest of them.

“Skye,” he said with a certain matter-of-factness.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve never had more admiration for a single person than I do for you.”

“You know what?” she said, attempting to match his casual tone. “I’ve never had more admiration for single person than I do for you.”

He continued to smile. “I appreciate that.”

She lifted up on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck. A lump lodged itself so firmly in her throat that she could barely breathe. Her exhale fractured through a choked sob. “You saved my life, Brennan. You one-hundred-percent saved me.”

He shook his head, his face to burying in her hair. “I one-hundred-percent did not. I just gave you a place to stay while you did it yourself.” Brennan pulled back his face while he stroked her hair and looked at her. “And you’re going to keep saving yourself in Las Vegas, and after that you’re going to create a life that you love and are proud of.”

Skye swallowed hard and tried to smile. That only made her bottom lip quiver harder than it already was. She rested her face against the side of his neck to hide her emotions from him.

Brennan braced his hands on her back, pressing their chests more firmly together. “I can feel your heartbeat, baby girl.”

“It’s gonna pound right out of my chest.”

“I can feel it like it’s right inside mine.” There was a small crack in the back of his throat.

Skye squeezed her arms tighter around his neck, and he was right. The thump inside her chest and the thump inside his melded together into a single, quick, steady beat.

“I can feel yours, too.” A tiny laugh burst from her, and fresh tears sprang to her eyes. “That’s the coolest thing even though it means we’re both terrified.”

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