Page 84 of Philly
Enough time to get there, but not a lot to spare. That wasn’t unusual. Protocol required that a driver only be told the pickup location and time, the drop-off location, and who to call for the next leg. Nothing more than that, and even that was held close to the vest.
“And where am I taking her?”
“Him, it’s a kid. Well, not legally. But he turned eighteen last week.”
Christ. “Where am I taking him?”
“Lucy in Point Reyes has the next leg.”
“Got it,” he said, pulling the bathroom door closed behind him so he wouldn’t wake Callie. Although she was a light sleeper—no surprise there—and was probably awake already. “I have her contact.”
“I wouldn’t have asked, but you were off the schedule for today anyway since you weren’t supposed to be back from Utah until tomorrow,” Mantis said.
“Don’t worry about it. Callie and I will take a honeymoon in a few months when the investigation quiets down.”
Mantis hesitated. “I’m going to put someone on her when she’s not at HICC.”
Philly stilled. “You feel it, too?” He hadn’t been ignoring his gut, but he hadn’t really been listening to it, either. “Nolan isn’t done with her, is he?” His stomach tightened when he thought about how close the hitman had come to them. If they hadn’t been awake, talking, the man might have been in and out before either of them could take their next breath.
“I don’t think he is, no.” Mantis paused. “And he won’t like that she can identify his hitman’s voice.”
“It might be worth putting it out there that she’s signed on with HICC,” he said, tugging on his jeans, his phone cradled between his ear and his shoulder. “You know, ensure word gets around that she isn’t the only one with information on Aiden Nolan.”
“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do.”
It might not be enough, though, not when dealing with a man like Aiden Nolan. Sure, he’d prefer sending herandallthe information she had on him to her grave, but if he couldn’t accomplish both, he’d settle for one.
“Thanks,” he said, setting his phone down and yanking his shirt over his head. “I should be home by four or five, depending on traffic, so it’s only this morning she’ll be alone. And I’ll tell her what to expect so she doesn’t misread the situation.”
Mantis chuckled. “She’s not going to love you putting a watchdog on her.”
“Me? You’re the one doing it, you overprotective bastard. I’m just the one who can’t stop you even though she’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself,” he replied. The fake argument wouldn’t fly with her, but a man could try.
Mantis laughed. “Let me know how that logic works for you.”
“I don’t think I will, thanks.”
Mantis’s laugh faded to a chuckle, then quieted. “Be safe today.”
“Always,” he replied. “I’ll call when the package is delivered and I’m on my way home.”
“Deal.”
They ended the call, and he finished his morning routine, which consisted of brushing his teeth and going to the bathroom. He’d grab his jacket and shoes from the mudroom on his way out.
Taking a moment, he ran through his mental checklist of what he needed for the day. Then, confident that he had it under control, he exited the bathroom, plunging himself into darkness when he flicked the light off.
“You can leave that on if you need,” Callie said, her voice sleepy but alert.
He crossed the room and sat on her side of the bed. Then, because he couldn’t help himself, he trailed his fingers down her bare arm, brushing a lock of hair over her shoulder. “I have to head out on Falcons business,” he said.
She sat up, holding the sheet to her chest. “What does that mean?”
He couldn’t miss the tension in her voice if he tried. “It’s not like last time,” he said, remembering that her only experience with that part of the Falcons’ business had been Stacey Harris’s murder. Her dark eyes studied him. “I will have to do extractions when needed—we all do. But today is just a transport,” he said before explaining the mechanics, if not the details, of what his morning would entail.
“You’ll stay in touch?” she asked when he finished.
He nodded. “Once I’m on my way home, I’ll call.”
