Highways & Hostages (30 page)

“Uh, that’s nice.” Finn paused. “You going somewhere with this?”

“No. Just making conversation,” Julian said pleasantly.

Julian didn’t “just make conversation.” Finn ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t want this conversation to go any longer than it had to.

“Julian—” he began.

“You’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question.

Finn was taken off guard. “What?”

“You’re leaving,” Julian repeated.

Finn started to deny it, but stopped. This was exactly what he had come to tell Julian; why was he about to say otherwise? Was he really so hard-wired not to disappoint the man? “How did you know?”

“You had a certain look on your face each time you contemplated leaving before…not that you actually did. But this time, something’s different.”

“
I’m
different,” Finn said. “I used to think this was the life: cushy gig, expensive cars, nice place to crash—and it
was
when I was eighteen. But ten years on, I’m feeling like there’s something missing. When I’m old and gray, what use am I gonna have for the material stuff? Because right now, I feel like that’s all I have.”

“You have Alex and myself.”

Finn snorted. “And you two are supposed to keep me warm at night?”

“Ah,” Julian said. “Is that what this is about? A woman? Claudia?”

Finn felt his cheeks heat up. “No. I’m just ready for the next chapter. I’m ready to be own my man. Figure out the meaning of life and all that crap.”

Julian considered him. “What about your grandmother?”

Finn narrowed his eyes. “What about her?”

“Do you have a job lined up? How are you going to pay her rent?”

Is he going to bribe me to stay by taking care of my Gram?
“I paid the retirement place three months in advance, so I’ve got time. I’ll figure something out. Anyway, here are the keys to the Roadster.” Finn gently set the keys on Julian’s desk.

“That’s your car, Jacob. Think of it as a signing bonus.”

“I’m not taking it, Julian.”

“Well, I’m not taking it back.” Finn and Julian stared at each other.

Julian finally sighed, pocketed the keys, and sat down behind the desk. He pulled open a drawer, and for a second Finn tensed. Then Julian removed a checkbook.

“Julian—”

He waved a hand as if shooing Finn’s comment away. “Do you remember what I said to you the first time we met?”

Finn thought back to that hot, humid day in Florida on the pool deck over ten years before.

Finn had been working, doing landscaping around the hotel grounds right after the sun rose, and now he was cleaning the pool. Even though it was only eight a.m., he was already hot, cranky, and exhausted. He would have killed to be one of the guests staying in the fancy hotel so he could use the pool. Hell, he was tempted to say, “fuck this job,” strip out of his uniform, and dive in.

Since the pool didn’t open until nine, the pool deck was practically empty. An older man in typical tourist garb—straw hat, sunglasses, tropical shirt, linen pants, and sandals—sat at a poolside table under a large umbrella with a newspaper spread in front of him. He waved Finn over.

“I’d like a Bloody Mary, please,” he said in a clipped British accent.

Finn snorted. The nerve of the guy. The nerve of all the people who stayed here. This guy looked even wealthier than the hotel’s usual clientele, but it didn’t matter; these rich guys were all the same.

“Sorry, mister. Not my job.” He turned back to the pool and dipped his net into the deep end.

“Hey!”

Finn glanced back over at the guy to see him waving two twenty-dollar bills.
Now
he was speaking Finn’s language. Finn got the Bloody Mary and delivered it to him in record time. He gave Finn the money.

“Anything else?” Finn asked.

He held up a hand for Finn to wait as he took a sip of the drink. Finn fidgeted and glanced around; he didn’t want to get caught away from the pool.

“Just the right amount of heat,” the man said. There was no one else nearby, so he was either talking to Finn or himself.

Finn nodded dutifully and shuffled from foot to foot. “Look, I gotta get back to work.” He patted the pocket he’d stuffed the bills into. “Thanks.”

The man took off his sunglasses and narrowed icy blue eyes. “Do you like being a pool boy?”

Finn didn’t know how to answer. Who the hell actually wanted this job? He couldn’t say that, though. What if he was a plant placed here by Finn’s boss?

“It’s okay,” Finn mumbled.

The man stared at him a moment longer, and Finn started to feel uneasy. Was he going to invite him up to his room or something?

“What’s your name?”

“Finn.”

“What kind of name is Finn?”

Finn bristled. “The kind my mom gave me. Anyway, it’s what everyone calls me.”

“And your real name?”

Finn stared the man down. “Jacob. You gonna make fun of that one, too?”

The man gave him a faint smile. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a business card.

“Well, Jacob, when you get tired of being a pool boy, give me a ring. I’d like to help you unlock your potential.”

“I thought you were going to ask me to be in a porno or something,” Finn said with a small grin.

“Not quite,” Julian said, scribbling on the check. “I told you I wanted to help you unlock your potential, and I meant it, even if that potential isn’t here with me.” He ripped the check from the billfold and held it out. “I only ask that you keep in touch through…discreet channels. The FBI will be looking for you.” He stood up and looked at Finn. “I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask you one last time: are you sure you want to go?”

Finn met Julian’s gaze full on. “It’s not that I want to go. I
need
to.”

Finn strode into Alex’s bedroom without knocking. He quickly regretted it when he saw Alex’s latest diversion straddling his lap. She tried to leap off, but her foot caught in the bed covers and she hit the ground hard. Alex looked over at Finn, unfazed. “What’s up?”

Finn looked at the girl scrambling next to the bed and raised a brow.

“Rosa, honey, we need some alone time. You’ll come visit me tomorrow, right?”

Rosa stood up, face aflame as she tugged on a pair of jeans. She stormed to the door, giving Finn the evil eye as she passed him. The door closed behind her, and he heard her click-clacking down the hall.

“I’m leaving town,” he announced.

Alex merely blinked. “Oh?”

Finn put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall next to the door. “That’s all you have to say?”

“You whine about leaving, like, twice a year. What’s so different this time?”

Finn pulled out Julian’s check and waved it in the air. Alex instantly knew what it was, having received them often while growing up.

Alex sat up straighter. “Holy shit. You’re really leaving? And he’s just letting you go?”

“Yep. He told me some bullshit about angelfish.”

“They’re his favorite,” Alex said.

“So I heard.”

“You’re gonna leave me here? Like this?” Alex gestured at himself.

Finn shrugged. “You’re gonna be fine. Besides, you’ve got Yvonne to look out for you.” He paused. “And Rosa.”

“It’s not the same, you selfish asshole.” Alex scowled.

“Look who’s talking.” Finn pushed away from the wall. “You know I wouldn’t leave if I wasn’t sure you were in good hands. You’re like my brother.”

“You’d abandon your brother if you had one?”

“You’re acting like I’m never going to see or talk to you again. I’m just leaving town.”

“Where are you going?” Alex asked grudgingly.

“Not sure where—or if—I’ll settle down, but I’m going to visit my grandma in Florida first. I haven’t seen her in a long time and she won’t be around forever.”

“When are you leaving?”

Finn ducked his head. “Tomorrow. Super early.”

“What? So you’re going to dump this on me, then go ghost? C’mon, man. There’s gotta be something I can do to make you stay.”

And that’s what it all boiled down to: the Beckhams and the von Rothschilds of the world thinking they could make him do anything they wanted, like he was some kind of mindless puppet. Worse, Julian and Alex didn’t even realize they were doing it. But Finn wouldn’t allow it anymore.

“Nope. My mind’s made up.” He went over to the bed and tried to give Alex a hug that turned into an awkward back-patting thing. “I’ll stop by on my way out, okay? Try and stay out of trouble till then.”

“Me? Trouble?” Alex grinned, flashing a dimple. “Never. Stay off the news, okay?”

“Roger that.” Finn was about to turn and walk to the door when his cell phone rang. Alex lifted his eyebrows. Finn didn’t recognize the number, so he shrugged, then answered the call.

The voice on the other end was breathless. “Finn—hi. It’s Stella.”

“…I wanted to thank you for the recipes. They’re amazing—are you sure your grandmother won’t miss these?” Stella asked, stroking the envelope.

“I scanned them all in before I gave them to you; it’s fine.” Finn’s voice was cold.

“Oh, uh, okay. I was just checking.”

“Is that all? I’m busy,” he said gruffly.

Of course Finn wasn’t going to make this easy. It wasn’t his style.

Stella sighed. “I was also calling to say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like shit. I was just trying to say that we were in a pressure cooker—so much was happening, and we were cooped up in the car together for so many hours. Something was bound to happen. To be honest, the trip wouldn’t have been the same with anyone else.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone. It went on for so long, Stella thought Finn might have hung up.

“Thanks,” Finn finally said. “It’s just…I—” His voice wavered slightly. “Never mind.”

“What?” Stella asked. “I know something’s wrong.”

“I wouldn’t have cared, you know, about what you said. But I’ve been dealing with a lot of shit since we got back, and it really fucking sucks. I’m leaving town. Going back east, maybe.”

Stella shook her head vigorously even though he couldn’t see it. “You can’t do that. You can’t run just because things got a little hard. You chose this life, right?”

“You’re not helping.”

“Well, Finn, I’ve been dealing with a lot of shit FOR THE LAST FIVE DAYS and I’m still here. I didn’t run off with my tail between my legs, and I’m not going to let you do it either, at least until you’ve really thought about it.”

Finn was silent.

“Look, are you free for dinner tomorrow? At my place?”

Finn hesitated, then said, “What time?”

Stella hadn’t really thought it through. “You pick. I don’t want to cut into your mini-golfing time.”

“It’s
real
golfing, and I don’t have a tee time tomorrow anyway.”

“Okay, okay, Mr. Prickly. I’ll text you my address. See you at six.”

“Wait a second. Did you just call me—”

“See you tomorrow.” Stella ended the call with a satisfied grin.

“A wire!” Christoph thundered. “A fucking wire.”

Billy sat still, trying not to cower as Christoph thumped across the office with his walking stick. He rounded on Billy, who nearly fell off the backless chair.

“Who is he working for?” Christoph asked, looming, his eyes steely.

“I-I don’t know,” Billy spluttered. “I don’t know anything about wires. And I haven’t talked to him since we fought in the foyer.”

Claudia folded her arms and leaned against the wall. “It has to be the FBI. You know they’ve been snooping around for a while.”

Christoph turned his attention to Claudia, and Billy let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“What do they know? What does
he
know?” Christoph asked, agitated.

“He knows about the ivory, so we have to assume
they
know,” Claudia said. She locked eyes with her father. “The real question is: what are we going to do about it?”

Billy looked from Claudia to her father. It felt like the temperature in the room had dropped several degrees in a matter of moments. Something big was about to happen…probably involving Finn. But it was his fault for working with the FBI…right? Finn always said, “Snitches get stitches.”

Guess he was about to get sewn up.

Finn lay on his back in bed, staring up at the ceiling. By the time he’d gotten home from the mansion last night, the high of Stella’s call had worn off, replaced with an urgent need to bolt. But he would stay, because he’d promised Alex he’d swing by, and if he was honest, he was really looking forward to seeing Stella one last time. Finn’s sleep had been fitful; the anticipation of seeing her kept him awake most of the night. He’d gotten up and done some packing in the middle of the night, finally collapsing after the sun rose.

Sighing, he got up and pulled on a clean shirt and a fairly clean pair of jeans before heading into the living room.

Finn ran a loving finger over the track of his miniature train set and glanced around the condo. He didn’t see anything else he wanted to take with him. He’d already filled two pieces of luggage with all of his clothing and shoes. Funny that he’d paid a crazy amount for this place and hired a Julian-recommended interior designer to fill it, but now that it was time to leave, there was barely anything he wanted to take with him.

Finn went to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and sat down on the couch. His phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out: Claudia. What reason did
she
have for calling? Finn thought about letting it go to voicemail, but curiosity got the best of him.

“What do you want?” he answered.

“Is that any way to talk to your ex-girlfriend?” Claudia purred.

“It is when she’s a raging bitch. The last time I saw you, you were screaming insults at me.”

“I know,” Claudia said. She sounded almost apologetic—a big feat for someone who thought she was always right. “That’s why I’m calling: to say I’m sorry and that my behavior was inappropriate.”

Finn lifted his eyebrow. This was new. “Did your father put you up to this?”