Page 70 of Too Late

“Steph. She’s a singer. She’s why I was almost late, actually. She signed a recording contract today and she called to tell me about it.” He looks proud when he talks about her.

It almost makes me laugh, because there is no Steph. He just made all that shit up on the fly, and Asa swallows it down like a warm glass of milk. “That’s cool,” Asa says.

Asa likes Dalton. I can tell by the way he looks at him—without any suspicion at all. Not like the way he looks at me.

“Something wrong with your fucking mouth, Carter?”

I glance at him and raise my eyebrow.

“You’re rubbing your goddamn lip raw.”

I didn’t even realize I was still rubbing my lip. I pull my hand from my mouth. “All good,” I say, taking a bite of the meatloaf. The last thing I want to do is provoke him. Not with the way he’s been acting lately.

Asa takes a bite of his meatloaf, and then he rests his hands beside his plate. “So,” he says. “I have a little surprise.” He smiles, and then looks over at Sloan. I can see the roll of her throat when she swallows.

“What is it?” she asks cautiously.

Asa opens his mouth to speak, but he’s cut off by a loud banging on the front door. I can see the irritation in his eyes as he turns to glance at the living room door. A second loud knock occurs.

He drops his silverware with a loud clank onto the table and looks around at all of us. “Any of you expecting company? In the middle of fucking dinner?”

No one speaks up.

He scoots back from the table and slaps his napkin beside his plate. When he turns to walk into the living room, Sloan glances across the table at me. She looks scared, but also relieved that his big surprise was just interrupted. I turn to Dalton and he raises an eyebrow.

We all look at Asa as he peers through the peephole. He stares for several seconds and then presses his forehead to the door. “Fuck.” He turns and rushes to the kitchen, grabbing Sloan by the arm and pulling her up out of her chair. He grips her shoulders and says, “Go up to the room and lock the door. Don’t open it whatever you do.”

I scoot my chair back and stand up. Dalton does the same. We both look at each other and then back at Asa.

“Who’s at the door?” Jon asks, pushing his chair back as well. I don’t think any of us have ever seen Asa this worried.

Asa glances up the stairs and around the room like he’s trying to find a way to escape. “It’s the fucking FBI, Jon. It’s the fuckinggoddamnFBI!”

What?

I immediately turn to Dalton, but he shakes his head to let me know he’s just as unaware as I am. I also notice his fists clench at his side. “Shit!” he says. To Asa, I’m sure Dalton’s reaction is expected. But to me, I know why he’s really mad. The FBI are about to walk into this house and ruin the investigation.

More pounding against the door.

Asa pulls his hands through his hair. “Fuck!Fuck!”

I see him glance toward the back door. I can already see him trying to plan an escape route. I step forward to get his attention.

“If they’re here to arrest anyone, they already have the house surrounded, Asa. They may just be here for questioning about your father. Just open the door and act normal. We’ll all stay seated at the table like we have nothing to hide.”

Dalton nods. “He’s right, Asa. If we all run, they’ll have reason to think you’re hiding something.”

Asa nods, but Jon shakes his head. “Fuck that. We’ve got shit all over this house. If we open the door, it’s over. For all of us.”

Asa’s eyes are wide as he tries to figure out what to do. We all look at the front door when the banging resumes.

I can see the veins in Dalton’s neck, and I know he’s fearing that all the work we’ve put in was basically for nothing. The entire investigation won’t mean shit, because it will now be in the hands of someone else.

We’ve seen this happen a couple of times—an investigation being taken over by a higher-ranking force. But Dalton has put so much into this, it’s going to be impossible for him to watch it go up in flames.

“Go to your room, Sloan,” Asa orders. “You don’t need to be here when I open that door.”

Sloan glances at me, concern in her eyes. She wants to know if she should follow Asa’s orders—if she should leave the room.

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