In fact, I know they don’t. In the year that I’ve worked here, I’ve always had to go pick up my orders.
Some would say I’m very convincing.
Entertained by his cheeky response, I type out another message.
I’m impressed, Mr. Wilcox.
I dig into the bag and start assessing the goods. My phone vibrates again and this time warmth flashes through me as I read it.
You said yourself I was thorough, Ms. Chambers.
I want to make sure I surpass all your expectations.
I turn my phone over and, in the name of productivity, I vow to ignore his texts for the remainder of the day.
Chapter five
JAMESON WILCOX
Sitting outside of the shabby bar, I scan the crowd of people. I’m searching for Eric Mendoza.
I need to talk to him about a favor and although we don’t live in close proximity of one another, I know this isn’t a conversation I should be having over the phone.
This place is somewhat of a middle ground.
As I continue to wait for him, I run over the reasons for this meeting.
My current case is starting to rub me the wrong way and I need to know the facts before I royally fuck this up. I need the real info on this Brick guy as soon as possible and I know Eric is the guy to do that for me while I’m otherwise occupied.
Something about Grace pulls on a protective instinct I’m unfamiliar with and I need to know why. On the exterior, she appears to be a typical, sweet non-threatening woman. Had she really done something to end up on Brick’s black list?
My time in the navy had taught me how to compartmentalize, which is how thrived separating morality from my end goal: money. But I’d also learned a lot about how to read people and something just isn’t adding up.
*****
“You sure know how to pick a bar,” Eric jokes, taking in our surroundings. The bar is rowdy and teeming with people who just escaped a long day’s work.
With a grin, I flag down the scantily clad bartender and order two whiskeys, neat.
“I knew you would fit in here,” I tease. “Underdressed women, cheap beer and plenty of lowlifes. Right up your alley.”
Then I clap Eric on the back before we dive into a bit of small talk, catching up.
Eric Mendoza and I were bunkmates during basic training over a decade ago and our sense of kinship had led us to become great friends. The sense of loyalty that grew from friendship had been fostered by our time as SEALs. No matter our differences, we always presented a united front.
“So, tell me why I’m here again,” Eric cuts to the chase.
“I need you to look into a guy for me. Real name is Brian Masner but most people call him Brick. All I know is that he sells life insurance in Ravenwood.”
Eric takes another sip of his beer and eyes me suspiciously.
“Why do you need me? Can’t you do this on your own?” he asks, knowing we have similar backgrounds in investigative work.
“Because he hired me a couple weeks ago.”
“Why are you investigating your client?” he wants to know.
“I need to know if he’s shady.”
Eric laughs, obnoxious and loud.
“Since when has that ever mattered to you? You’re the fucking king of shady.”
I’m irritated by his words, but only because I know he’s right.
Before Grace, I would have completed this assignment three weeks ahead of schedule. I should be kissing a fat bonus check right now for my swift turnaround, but instead I’m here.
“I’ve met the target a few times and something feels off. I wouldn’t feel comfortable turning her over to this guy unless I have solid proof to implicate her.”
Mendoza’s eyes triple in size as soon as I finish the word her. And I know what’s coming before he even opens his mouth.
“Holy shit, you’re trying to protect the target.”
I don’t think about denying it. He’s not entirely wrong. I want to protect Grace until I know for sure. No matter my current field, my predatory instincts always took a backseat to protect those I believed were innocent.
And this case has brought out the protector within me that I often try to conceal.
It’s just not making sense. Grace doesn’t seem like the type to pack up her life and start over without good reason. She’s not exactly living a glamorous life in Holly Hill.
If anything, I think she’s here because it’s safe and she can easily fly under the radar.
“Are you going to help me out on this?” I ask pointedly.
I’m none too thrilled to be asking for help on this, especially since it means admitting that Grace has successfully derailed my original plans. I’m not supposed to care about doing the right thing, that’s Mendoza’s role.
Between the two of us, I’m the bad guy in contrast to his good guy persona. He also has a P.I. firm but everything is on the up and up and it’s a much larger operation than my one-man show. We know our respective lanes and we stay in them without it tainting our friendship or mutual respect.