“Amen,” he said.
I tilted my head toward Cap. “And, you lied,” I said.
He tossed his hands in the air. “How so?”
“You said you weren’t a good storyteller,” I said. “You’re a great storyteller.”
“Appreciate it,” he said.
He sat against the back of the booth and studied me for a moment, and then turned toward Michael. “Well, Tripp. If you want my endorsement, you got it,” he growled. “I like this fuckin’ girl.”
His voice fit him well. It was raspy and thundered from his lungs when he spoke. I looked at Michael and then at Cap. I had no real reason to think what I thought, but I decided in looking at him that he would always protect Michael, and Michael would protect me. Together, as an inseparable trio, we would live life free of any harm.
Michael chuckled. “I like her, too. I think I’m going to keep her.”
I wondered if meeting Cap was some kind of test. I felt like I was standing with my family on one side, and the man I was quickly falling in love with on the other. Each was tugging against an arm, and Michael was clearly winning the battle. I hadn’t been to see my parents in weeks, and for the first time in my life, I really didn’t care to.
I turned toward Michael and puckered my lips. “I’m going to keep you, too.”
And I had every intention of never letting him go.
Chapter Sixteen
Michael
I had been dating Terra for two months, and I couldn’t imagine life without her in it, nor did I want to. It was midafternoon, the beginning of summer, and roughly two weeks had passed since the incident with Agrioli’s men. Much to my surprise, I hadn’t heard a word from Svetli or from Agrioli.
Cap interlocked his fingers behind his head and leaned back into the chair. “So, when we get these AR-15s done, I’m gonna buy a fuckin’ sixty-inch smart TV .”
“Why, so you can watch New Girl on a bigger screen?”
“Those new 4K fuckers are the shit. They look like 3-D, but you don’t have to wear the glasses. You ever been to a 3-D movie and looked around the theater? It’s like you’re at a movie with a bunch of fuckin’ four-eyed weirdos. I ain’t gonna get caught dead wearin’ that shit at home, that’s for sure.”
“Who’d see you? You’re a fucking hermit.”
He shrugged. “Mail lady maybe. Or one of them kids on a bicycle with the bibles. That’s my risk. Or maybe you.”
“You’re a fucking mess.”
“I’ll agree. I’m a mess, but I’ve been this way forever. You? You’re different than you used to be,” he said.
“How so?”
“Well, you’re happy. Used to get mad when I sat in here and talked. Now you don’t give a shit. Damned girl’s got you happier’n shit no matter what happens around ya. Guess it’s good. Like I said in the beginnin’, long as you don’t lose focus. Far as I can tell, you look like you’re doin’ okay.”
“Appreciate the nod of encouragement,” I said. “But if you hated her, I’d still be with her. She’s perfect for me.”
“Who the hell could hate that chick? Damn, she’s gorgeous, polite, funny, and she can damn near outdrink me. Got a winner with her for sure.”
“Agreed.”
Cap leaned forward and turned his head to the side. The sound of a hard-soled shoe walking down the corridor echoed and caught my attention. The gait sounded familiar. I pointed to my ear, raised my right hand and clenched my fist. While he sat quietly, I pulled my drawer open and removed my pistol.
He nonchalantly walked through the door, removing any doubt about where I recognized the footsteps from.
Fuck.
Anthony Agrioli stood staring back at me, alone, his face smeared with concern.
Genuine concern.
“I wasn’t expecting company.” I stood and folded my arms in front of my chest. “No disrespect, but you’re going to want to keep those hands where I can see them.”
Dressed in a dark gray suit, he pinched the lower corners of his unbuttoned jacket, pulled it open slowly, and shrugged. “I’m unarmed. I’m here to talk.”
I motioned to the empty seat beside Cap. “Have a seat, but he’s staying.”
He offered a half-assed shrug and sauntered toward the empty seat. He looked tired, disappointed, and like he’d eaten an overly large piece of humble pie for lunch.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked.
He sat down. “Time is of the essence,” he said. “I’ll make this brief.”
The accent in his voice still conveyed his heritage clearly, but lacked the authority from when we had spoken before. The skin under his eyes was sagging, as were his cheeks. He appeared to have aged ten years since I saw him last.