Becoming Rain (26 page)

I'm able to reconcile my guilt somewhat, telling myself that everything Luke has revealed to me, he's revealed only because I've crossed the line with him. That rationale doesn't come without side effects, though. Namely, the little voice in the back of my head that's not so little anymore. That screams and yells at me. That tells me I'm an idiot. That Luke isn't going to change, that he's lying to me because that's what he is—a liar and a thief. That I've dug myself into a hole that I need to start trying to get myself out of.

That I'm not really helping Luke by hiding all of this from my team. Maybe slapping handcuffs on his wrists and hauling him into the station, bursting his bubble about the fictional Rain, and making him admit everything that he's admitted to me is the only way to
help
him.

Maybe . . .

My next call is to Warner, to set up cover. “I'm going over to 12's place tonight, for dinner.”

“ 'kay.”

There's a long pause of dead air, something I'm not used to with my handler. “Warner? You okay?”

Another long pause. “The Porsche was moved again three hours ago.”

“So, I was right. Vlad didn't have it stolen.”

“Doesn't look like it.”

I frown. Who else would want to steal Luke's car, specifically?

“I'm assuming we've passed to a second fence. A two-deep fence line is what we've seen in the past for these big rings, so hopefully the next stop is the cargo container.”

The next stop. How much closer will that be to the person who can finger Luke in a lineup? “That's good.”

“Yup.” Again, that tightness in his voice.

“Are you sure you're okay?”

“Yeah, just . . . Rebecca and I decided to take some time apart.”

So the girlfriend finally has a name. “I'm sorry, Warner.”

“It is what it is.” So matter-of-fact. “What do you have planned for today?”

“Uh . . . just some grocery shopping and stuff. I'll talk to you later?”

“Sure.” The phone clicks awfully fast. He's obviously more upset about his breakup than he'll ever let on.

Maybe I'll buy him a case of beer and invite him over later this week.

But today . . . today, I have something more urgent to do. Searching out Elmira's phone number, I head over to the safe behind the painting and dig out my personal phone to make the call.

Chapter 45

■ ■ ■

LUKE

“Fuck!” I slam my phone down, earning Miller's glare. “Sorry. The cops are still dicking me around.” My car was supposed to be released last week, but apparently they have a backlog in their investigations unit. They said I'd get it back next week. Maybe.

Miller grunts as he eases his body out of his chair and drops several checks on my desk. “Here. I guess you're supposed to sign these now, right?”

“What is this for?” I eye all the digits staring back at me.

“Tax man.”

“Already? I thought all that got squared away with the lawyers when we changed ownership over.”

Miller laughs, an odd and grating sound. “You're never squared away with paying taxes. These are the next installment. Don't worry, the money's already sitting in the account to cover it. You just have to sign it over.”

I scrawl my name across the line and hand it back. “Don't ever leave me, Miller.”

He responds with another grunt as he ambles back to his corner. I pick up the plaque that showed up mysteriously on my desk this morning, tracing the engraved letters that spell out “Nurse Boss Boone.” And I smile. Tabbs and Zeke are obviously behind it. It's their way of congratulating me, while still getting their digs in. I don't mind so much anymore.

I can't believe this garage is mine. Not bad for a twenty-four-year-old guy. Based on the numbers I just handed over to the government, and the earnings statements I saw while signing ownership papers, I could make a good, solid living off this place if I keep it up.

A good, solid
clean
living, running this place and flipping cars, just like Rain suggested.

I eye my burner phone sitting next to my personal phone. Quiet and unassuming. I haven't gotten used to it. Do I really want to spend the rest of my life carrying one of those around? Wondering who's listening on the other end?

Do I really want to sit at a bar with my girlfriend and my uncle and worry about an angry Russian showing up to yell and spit at us?

I lay in Rain's bed last night for hours, listening to her breathe against my chest, thinking about everything. Wondering if, when she actually finds out what I've been doing with Rust, she'll change her mind and leave me.

Stupid, really. If I should be worried about anything, it's jail time, not losing my girlfriend. Yet Rain, and what she'll think of me, is the one constant worry that keeps popping into my head. Lately, it's even louder than my worry about disappointing Rust if I tell him that I think I want out.

What will he say?

Chapter 46

■ ■ ■

CLARA

“Did they give you any trouble?” Elmira closes in for a double air kiss on either side of my face.

“Not at all.” Aside from the registration lady's once-over of my jeans and black boots. By the time I made it through the security gate, a valet, and a front desk, I knew this was the most exclusive of exclusive clubs.

“Good. We pay enough in membership fees that they shouldn't.” She offers me her trademark smile—small, slightly standoffish—before gliding down a long hall with signs pointing toward the swimming pool. Other signs point toward the squash and tennis courts, a curling rink, and a golf store. Double-glazed doors with iron inserts hide a spa. I'm guessing the soothing smell of essential oils in the air is coming from there.

“Thanks for meeting me today.” Honestly, when I called Elmira this morning, I expected to get her voice mail, but she answered. I held my breath when I suggested lunch and I deflated with disappointment when she declined, saying her day was full. Then she suggested I meet her here, as she was on her way for her morning swim.

“Of course. You sounded like you wanted to talk.” She leads me into the spacious change room. “These are all visitor lockers.” She points to a row of cream-colored metal. “It's quite secure, so you're fine to leave your purse, your jewelry . . .” Dark, youthful eyes—free of all traces of makeup except some mascara—flicker to my chest, where my dragonfly pendant normally hangs. “I'll meet you out there in five?” She doesn't even wait before she disappears around the corner.

My wariness grows. She makes me uncomfortable. If it weren't for this case, and for Luke, I'd go out of my way to avoid her.

But she may know something that can help me, I remind myself, as I peel off my clothes, slide on the bathing suit that I stopped and bought on the way here, and head out to the pool. Elmira's already there, her shiny black hair tucked into a cap, making her look more like a little girl than ever before. We're the only two in the pool area. I do a quick scan of my surroundings, as I always do. No lifeguard, no cameras. No other swimmers.

That's a little surprising, given the people milling about the rest of the clubhouse. But this isn't a bathhouse with hidden, steamy alcoves, I remind myself. This is safe, neutral country club territory.

Still, the hairs on the back of my neck rise. If not for the wall of windows opposite me, overlooking the green, I'd be more than a little concerned.

Elmira dives off the edge with the sleek movements of a well-trained athlete and swims the length of the pool before pausing, her eyes trailing over my one-piece. “It's warm enough.”

Okay.

Inhaling a lung's worth of chlorine-scented air, I dive off the side and into the deep end, reveling in the feel of the tepid water. When I emerge, I find Elmira waiting for me, treading water in the center of the expansive pool. “So, how have you and Luke been, Rain?”

It could be my paranoia, but the way she says my name . . . “Uh . . . we're good. Great, actually.” What is it exactly about this woman that puts me on edge like this?

“Yes, Aref says that you and Luke are growing much closer.” She adds, almost as an afterthought, “Luke told him, at dinner the other night.”

I highly doubt that Aref and Luke were talking about our relationship, but I play along. “At Corleone's?”

“Yes. That's right.” She says nothing else, waiting. She's fishing. She wants to know what I know, what Luke has told me. Maybe she's here at her husband's bidding. The deal's in motion and he wants to know who can identify him, should things go sideways.

I'm not giving her anything. “I'm glad Luke feels that way.”

“Did he tell you that he and Aref struck a deal recently?” She mentions it so casually, as if we were drinking cappuccinos at a café patio and talking about our husbands' legitimate jobs.

I was counting on her knowing. The question is, what can I get out of her? “He mentioned it, yeah. I didn't get many details, though. Luke's still pretty tight-lipped.”

A small, amused smirk touches her lips. “I took you for a woman who would do whatever she needs to get what she wants.”

It's an art, speaking as Elmira does. The average person would miss it. Or, if they were already paranoid, they'd stumble and stutter over their words, giving her the answers she's looking for without uttering a word.

But I know how to search for the crack in her armor. “Like you?” I volley back. Elmira is clearly more than just arm candy. Does she actually help
run
their empire?

She smiles. There's something that looks like respect. Does she realize that she's finally met her match?

That's why her next words are so jarring. “You need to get him to back away from the deal.”

I swallow my shock. “Why?”

“There are things in play now. Plans that began some time ago, before Luke ever became involved, and when they come to fruition, there will be no room for Luke in them. The less involved he is, the better.”

My heart is pounding against my chest as I digest what I begin to realize is more warning than threat. “What things?”

The creak of a door introduces several ladies, chattering and laughing as they enter the pool area in their bathing suits. When I turn back, Elmira has begun her laps again. I guess our conversation is over, for now. I trail her in the next lane, using this time to process.

There are things in play? What plan? And who does it involve? Obviously Aref, but who else? Have Aref and Elmira figured out that there's a full FBI investigation underway? Aref sure as hell isn't playing on our side or
I'd
know. And she can't know who I am, or he wouldn't have gone through with this deal to begin with.

I almost wish I had worn a wire today, so that I could talk through this with Warner. Then again, nothing would have been captured while in the pool.

It finally dawns on me.

This meeting spot was a very intentional choice on her part.

I eye her black-capped head as she glides over the water with a smooth breaststroke. Elmira suspects that I'm wired. Or she's at least afraid of it.

We continue our laps for a good twenty minutes, until my arms are sore and my breath is ragged, and I still haven't figured out what angle she's playing here, what benefit there is for her in warning me.

“Hey,” I call out as she pulls her lithe body out of the water and grabs her towel. The only sign that she's tired is a slight pant. She peels off the cap to let her long black hair cascade over her shoulders, and then crouches down beside me as I hold myself over the side of the pool with folded arms.

“If you care about Luke, get him to back away from this deal. It won't end well for him otherwise,” she says, her words hard and slow and unmistakable. “Aref likes Luke. But he loves money, and he's a businessman who keeps all of his doors open.”

My mind begins spinning with possibilities. “Is one of those doors Vlad?”

“Enjoy the pool.” She stands. “And trust that I'm saying this for your benefit. And Luke's.” I watch her stroll toward the change rooms.

Trusting that woman is the last thing I see myself doing.

I wait five minutes before ducking out, hoping that I might tail her.

She's already gone.

■ ■ ■

“Come on, just one episode!”

“Why do you like this show so much? You don't even get to see anything. They blur all the good stuff out!”

Luke's brow spikes. “The good stuff?”

I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I don't.” His fingertip tugs at the V at my T-shirt, exposing the lace on my bra. “Why don't you show me.”

I smack his hand away with a smile and point at the screen.

“Fine . . . Maybe there's a good movie on. One
without
aliens.” He scrolls through the pay-per-view channels, taking a second to check his phone screen. He frowns.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing, just . . .” His frown deepens, and he moves to set his phone back down on the end table. “Nothing. I was just expecting a call.”

“Oh yeah? A work call?” The dragonfly pendant hanging around my neck weighs ten pounds tonight.

Elmira's words weigh ten times that.

I've replayed them all afternoon, twisting and turning them, trying to read between them. Unable to figure out her motives. Aref's wife wants Luke and Rust to back out of the deal. She can't know I'm investigating him; otherwise she'd never bother trying to get me to steer Luke away from business with Aref.

Unless she knows that I've already been sabotaging the case so far.

I'm torn between doing my job—or at least, making it appear like I am—and relaying Elmira's warning, something I can't do with ears on me.

“I'm just waiting for Rust to call me, to sort something out.”

Perfect intro. “How is he after last night? Did he and that Vlad guy work things out?”

He snorts. “I doubt it. That guy's an asshole.”

“I'm sure your uncle wouldn't want to lose his business, though, right?” I choose my words carefully so as not to repeat anything we've shared in our private moments, going off only what's been captured on the wire. But it's getting harder to distinguish the conversations; there have been so many private moments now.

“No, not yet anyway. Not until he has things up and running with Aref.”

I curl up into his chest. Hating myself for setting him up like this. “How long will that take?”

“Well, we've got a deal with Vlad next week and one with Aref in about a month, so we'll see how that goes.”

I close my eyes against the sound of that “we.” “Big ones?” I hear myself ask.

He sighs. “Yeah. One of them's worth—” A phone rings and Luke's hand jumps, his words dropping off. But it's not his phone ringing. It's mine. There are only two people who have that number besides Luke: Sinclair and Warner. But neither would be calling me while I'm meeting with my target.

Unless it's serious.

“Sorry, I need to grab this. I was waiting for my mom to call.” I step over Licks and Stanley, curled up on what I'd now call the communal bed, and move to where Luke won't hear the male voice on the line.

“Hi.”

“Can you talk?” Warner's gruff tone fills my ear.

“Yeah.”

“We've got a big problem.” He sighs. “24's body was found this morning.”

I turn toward the kitchen, away from Luke, so he can't see the color drain from my face. “Why am I just hearing about this
now
?”

“Because
I
just found out an hour ago. I was waiting for Sinclair to make a call on our next move.”

Shit . . .
“How bad?”

“Bad. Execution-style, in a black SUV. But he was obviously roughed up beforehand. The kind of roughed up when someone's trying to get answers. I think this may have something to do with the Russians and this other deal.”

“No shit.”

Luke snorts in the background. I glance over my shoulder at him to find him staring at me in disbelief. “You talk like that to your mother?”

I turn away, feeling like I'm about to vomit. Luke's listening to my conversation. I need to be careful what I say. “So what happens next?”

“Well, at first Sinclair was ready to bring 12 in and give him the hot-lamp treatment.”

“No!”

“He changed his mind. We don't have 12 on anything solid. It's better to see where his head's at after he finds out. He may sing like a little choirboy. I just called Franky and Rix so they know. They're listening in on this all right now. I've got more reinforcements coming. We need around-the-clock surveillance.”

“Is that the best choice?” I'm struggling to make my answers ambiguous to Luke but clear to Warner. “Is that the safest option?”

“It's the only option right now because it's what Sinclair has ordered. You need to stay on 12. Have your gun on you at all times.”

“
How?
”

“I don't care how. Figure it out. If we lose 12 too, this case is dead.”

Lose Luke. I can't even think about that without feeling a sharp pain piercing my heart. “Okay. Yeah, definitely. How long before . . .” Before Luke's happy, oblivious bubble is crushed.

“Uniforms just pulled into his building. 12's marked as his next-of-kin.”

Of course he is. And that's why Warner called now. He had no other choice.

“Keep them from asking too many questions. We can't let the locals fuck up this case for us.”

“Got it.”

“You can do this.”

“I'll talk to you later, Mom.” I force myself to take a few breaths before I turn around. “Hey, sorry about that.” I can't keep the shake from my voice.

Luke stands, frowning. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it's just . . . just some procedure my dad's having done next week.”

“Is it serious?”

I swallow against the bitter taste of my lies. “As any surgery is.”

Luke pulls me into his side and kisses the tip of my nose. “He'll be fine. Don't worry.”

“Thanks.”

Leading me back to the couch, he waves the remote toward the screen. “I'll even watch this if it'll make you feel better.” He has a sappy Nicholas Sparks movie highlighted.

I manage a laugh, which quickly morphs into tears. Why the hell am I crying? I'm an undercover cop and a criminal got himself killed doing illegal shit! I don't care about Rust!

But I do care for Luke.

This is going to crush him.

Knowing that breaks the last of my defenses and suddenly the tears are flowing down my cheeks. For Luke, for what he's about to go through. For the anguish of replaying what his uncle's final minutes might have been like. Not the uncle who led a car theft ring. The one who raised him the way a loving father raises a son.