Page 43 of Identify
“Okay, on the other phone though, not this one.”
The line disconnects before anything more is said.
“Thanks,” Mack grunts before moving off to the side of the room to take a call on one of his other phones, returning after a moment. “We gotta get him back.” He gestures toward David and nods to Reed, some sort of non-verbal communication happening between them. Then he comes over to me.
He puts his hands on my shoulders and squeezes them lightly. “I gotta go. You okay driving you and Quinn back?”
I nod.
“Thank you for tonight.” His words are casual, his expression is anything but, gripping my heart in my chest and squeezing tightly. He pulls me in for a quick hug, before he and Reed are out the door, half dragging-half carrying David between them.
I hear the SUV start and peel out of the drive, then turn to Quinn. She looks at me, eyes big, mouth agape. “What just happened?”
“They’ll use him as bait to get the other guy.”
“Will that work?”
I shrug in response. “I don’t know.”
“What do we do now?”
I want to say, “Good question.” But instead, I take her hand and lead her outside to the other SUV so we can leave. “Now? We wait and hope their plan works.”
22
Reed
I can’t even forcemyself to look at David right now. To hear him admit that he’s involved, regardless of his reasons, makes me sick. He’s cuffed and sitting next to me in the back seat of the SUV. His left eye is puffy and closed over, the skin over his right cheekbone is split, and the blood under his nose and on the side of his chin is dry and crusty. He groans in pain whenever the truck rolls over a pothole or uneven wear in the road. I don’t feel sorry for him. Not at all.
I watch the varying holiday light displays blur as we speed past them. It’s always amazing to me just how much effort people will put into decorating their homes for Christmas. It’s not something my parents ever did. A string of lights along the eaves of the front, but that was about it.
These houses have inflatable snowmen and reindeer looming large on rooftops, Santa statues with picturesque backlighting, and strings of lights on every surface—some blinking, some white, some colored. Holiday light and decor viewing has become an annual event for families. Homeowners’ associations give awards for the best presentation. Entire streets shut down and join to partake in this universal greater good.
And then, of course, you have assholes like David who embody the exact opposite of coming together for the greater good. He makes me sick.
I turn away from the window to face him. “You remember the cover story, right?”
He nods in response.
“Use your words, David,” I instruct.
“Yes,” he forces out.
“Tell me.”
He opens his mouth to speak, splitting his lip open anew from the effort. “Three guys dressed in masks jumped me in the back room of the house before you guys could get to me. You rescued me and got me to the safe house.”
“Close enough,” Mack calls from the front seat. “Do not veer from the story. Don’t improvise, don’t embellish, and most of all don’t answer any questions. Got it?”
“Got it,” David confirms.
We are nearing his house, where we’ll be dropping him for the night. He’ll have twenty-four-hour surveillance for the next week—through the day of the wedding. I still plan to attend as his best man, after which Mack and I will tail him on his honeymoon. A romantic two-week trip to Maldives with my FBI partner is not exactly something I’m looking forward to. We still have to work out the logistics, so maybe it will end up being better than I think it will.
That’s a lie. I don’t believe that at all. Having Quinn go with me would be much nicer. Seeing Quinn in a bikini would make everything better. I think back to earlier tonight, when I had her in my arms and we almost kissed. How hard I was, how good she felt; her soft body pressed against me—
David slams into my side, I’m sure on purpose, as Mack makes the final turn onto the street in the affluent area where David lives. The house is Laurel’s; David moved in with her shortly after they were engaged. It’s much nicer than anywhere he’s ever lived before. Seeing it reminds me of a conversation I had earlier this week with Mack, who is convinced that David is using Laurel for her money and was not shy about telling me. He considers it a long con. Though, to me a con has a payoff and an end date. Which means, unless David has a plan that includes divorce and no prenup, this doesn’t really qualify. Because I’m certain Laurel’s family are the type of people to demand a prenuptial agreement, regardless.
We pull up in front of the house, Mack turns off the engine and pivots to face us.
