Page 114 of Faded Gray Lines
He squeezed his phone, unable to meet my eyes. “I agree.”
Those two words hung in the air like a grenade. Mateo was lost in his own thoughts, but then again, so was I. Horrible, unspeakable thoughts that ripped my soul apart.
Someone wanted to hurt my baby.
My mother. My mother and Emilio. Alex. Alex and my father. Emilio. Emilio and my father. Finn. Finn and Alex. Everyone’s name swirled in my head like a diabolical game of spin the bottle.
My head pounded, nothing making any sense until one damning line broke through the noise.
“Oh, please, Leighton. I know what you’ve done. I’m the mayor. I have access to all police reports.”
I was about to excuse myself to be sick when Mateo closed his eyes and leaned back. “I think we should shower then head over to the townhouse and talk to Val.”
“You go ahead. I don’t feel well. I’m going to stay here and try to sleep it off.”
Kissing the top of my head, he headed toward the main suite. “Okay, get some rest.”
Once I heard the water run, I dug into the bag Eden sent over and finding my phone, I dialed the number on the piece of paper the concierge had given me earlier. She answered almost immediately.
“Leighton, I’m so glad you called—”
“Yeah, me too,” I said, cutting her off. “Listen, did you mean all that stuff you said about being there if I needed a friend?”
“Of course.”
“I need a friend. Preferably one who can be quiet.”
Her pleasant tone shifted. “Whatever you’re doing, I advise against it.”
“I’m doing this with or without you, Eden. With you, I might make it out alive.”
After a long pause, she sighed. “What do you need?”
Thank God.
“Mateo spoke of an IT professor who decrypted something for him. He said he’s the best. I assume he’s on the cartel payroll? You know who he is, don’t you?” It wasn’t a question. She was Val’s wife. She knew.
“Leighton, please...”
“Fine, I’ll find out another way.”
“Wait!” she called out just as I was about to hang up. “Professor Henry Bright at Rice University. Val’s sleeping. Give me thirty seconds, and I’ll text you his number.”
“Thank you.” I didn’t think she’d cave so fast, but I was grateful.
As promised, thirty seconds later, a number popped up on my text alert. After immediately dialing the number, a man with a corporate sounding voice answered.
“Hi, is this Professor Bright?”
“Yes, who’s this?” He sounded suspicious. I couldn’t blame him. Strange number. Strange woman. I probably wouldn’t have answered.
“This is Mateo Cortes’s wife. I need you to do a job for me.”
“I don’t know any Mateo Cortes,” he insisted.
Well played.
My heart pounded, and a layer of sweat built between my palm and the phone, but I hoped for the best. “Look, Professor, I realize you’re trying to protect your own ass right now, but we both know the bad mood my husband gets in when things aren’t done the first time he asks, don’t we?”
