“Where you headed?”
“Vegas.”
“You don’t say?”
“Yeah. My sister and her boyfriend are out there on vacation and invited me to come out. I’m taking a friend.”
“A lady friend?”
“No, my buddy Chance. He loves Vegas.”
Mouse nodded toward the passenger seat. “Get in, I’ll give you a ride to the airport.”
“I was planning to take the train.”
“No, really. Get in.”
Wes knew better than to argue. But his feet were heavy as he walked around to climb into the front seat. “Thanks.”
“Nice day for a drive,” Mouse said casually, pulling away from the curb and easing out of the parking lot into traffic. The big man maintained a stoic silence until they merged onto the connector leading south to the airport and put a few miles behind them. “The boss is going to be happy you paid off your debt, but with this much money, he’s going to ask questions.”
“Tell him I won it in a poker game.”
“Were you playing with someone from the Treasury Department? Those are brand new bills.”
Wes swallowed hard and decided not to answer.
“Or maybe it’s reward money from the D.A.’s office for snitching?”
Wes jerked his head around. “What? No!”
“So you haven’t been talking about our headless friend who wound up in the morgue?”
If he lived to be a hundred, he’d never forget pulling the teeth out of the decapitated head and leaving it in a field for the birds. “You never told me the guy’s name, remember?”
“But you could’ve tagged me for being involved.”
“I didn’t, Mouse. I wouldn’t snitch on you.”
“You don’t have to. I didn’t off the guy.”
Wes gaped. “You didn’t?”
“Nah, it was one of Dillon’s guys.”
“Someone who worked for The Carver’s son? Was it Leonard?” Leonard was the muscle head his probation officer was engaged to.
Mouse looked surprised. “You know Leonard?”
“No.” Wes held up a hand. “Forget I said anything. I don’t want to know.” He already felt guilty about not telling E. Jones her boyfriend was bad news.
“So the cops have been leaning on you.”
Wes was relieved to see the sign for the airport exit. “They can lean all they want—I’m not talking.”
Mouse sighed. “The problem is, it looks bad—you cashing out like this, then skipping town.”
“The money didn’t come from the cops, and I’m not skipping town.”
Mouse smiled. “I knew you wouldn’t run out on your baby, not after what your daddy did to you.”
Wes chewed on his lip, then grunted. “Turns out, the baby’s not mine.”
“No shit? Aw. Is that good?”
“Mostly,” Wes admitted.
“Bet Meg is happy about that.”
Meg Vincent and her sweet strawberry mouth were done with him. “Actually, she couldn’t care less. Go to the south terminal.”
Mouse took the turn. “So you don’t have a reason to stay here.”
Wes looked over. “My sister is here, and my dad, remember? The feds are still holding him in the pen.”
“No offense, but I got the feeling your dad doesn’t want anything to do with you.”
Hurt and anger fused in Wes’s chest. It was true Randolph hadn’t initiated the paperwork necessary to allow Carlotta and Wes to visit him. And when someone Mouse knew inside the pen had tried to communicate with Randolph on Wes’s behalf, his father had refused.
Wes waved toward the ticketing entrance. “You can let me out here.” He was opening the door before the car came to a stop. “Thanks, man.”
“Wes?”
Reluctantly, Wes turned back. “Yeah?”
Mouse splayed one big hand. “I guess this is goodbye. If your debt’s paid, you don’t need to do collections anymore.”
He hadn’t thought about that. “I guess you’re right.” He reached into his backpack and pulled out the cell phone Mouse had given him for exclusive communication between them. “I won’t be needing this.”
Mouse shrugged. “Keep it. I might call you sometime to say hello.”
That was crap, but it was a nice gesture. “Okay.”
“Good luck, Little Man.”
“Thanks. You, too, Mouse.”
He closed the car door and stepped back, then with mixed emotions, watched the Town Car pull away. Mouse had been like a mentor to him, had helped him get clean and given him advice. He would miss the big lug. Some.
Wes turned and strode into the airport, whistling under his breath to feign composure as he approached security. He ran a hand over the back of his moist neck. In hindsight, it might not have been the best idea to sew twenty-five grand into the lining of a jacket when the temps were still warm. But it was too late to change plans now.