“Do you think he looked into my background?”
“I would say almost assuredly.”
“Why?”
“I’m not a profiler, but my best guess is that manipulating privileged young men is a game for him. He wanted to see how much he could get you to agree to.”
I’d known something seemed off, but I hadn’t thought he was that fucking creepy. “And then he would have killed me?”
“I don’t know enough about the circumstances of the other mens’ deaths to say, but one died of a supposedly accidental overdose, and the other was found in a mangled car, but the evidence doesn’t add up for him to have had an accident.”
“Where were they found?”
He frowned. “Are you sure you want the details?”
I was considering that when Giorgio’s phone buzzed.
19
Giorgio
I looked down at my phone and saw that it was X calling. I couldn’t ignore him, but it was going to be awkward as fuck to talk to him with his son cuddled on my lap.
“What’s up?”
“I just talked to Joe. There’s a clear connection between Hendon and Congressman Swain.”
“Oh fuck.”
Lane frowned at me, and I mouthed, “It’s okay.” I pulled him tighter against me, encouraging him to lay his head on my shoulder and trailing my hand up and down his back. He needed me. I wasn’t going to push him away because I was talking to his father. I was just thankful it wasn’t a video call.
“Is he involved in the same business as the brother we ran into?”
“I’m guessing Lane is nearby and can hear.”
“Yes. This place is probably six hundred square feet, tops.”
“Hmm, that’s definitely not what Sandra described. So far there’s nothing to indicate Alan is involved with the trafficking, but Joe is following a few more leads. Is everything okay there? No more incidents?”
“No, it’s been quiet here.” I was absolutely not going to tell him what had happened in town or that I’d told Lane more than I should have. “The man who came by hasn’t returned and no one else has approached the cabin. When we went into town, I asked a barista at a local coffee shop if she recognized the man, but she hadn’t ever seen him.”
“How’s Lane holding up?”
I glanced down at him, resisting the urge to kiss the top of his head. “He’s working on his art. He’s fine, other than being tired. I think all the stress has been exhausting and neither of us slept well last night. Any luck finding us a better place to stay?”
“No. We need to be careful who knows your whereabouts considering the connections Alan has.”
“It’s fine. We’ll manage.”
“All right. Let me know if anything else happens there.”
“Will do, boss.” I ended the call, and Lane pulled away so he could face me.
“What was that about?”
“My boss was just checking in.”
“You seemed upset.”
I shook my head. “Not really. He just had more confirmation that Alan is involved in the type of activities I mentioned.”
Lane shuddered. “I can’t believe I didn’t know.”
“Try not to think about it anymore. Why don’t you do some more painting to see if you can take your mind off things.”
He looked like he was going to protest but then he sighed and stood. While he changed and got supplies, I moved the pieces of the couch out onto the porch to give him more room and cracked a few windows to help with ventilation. Once he was ready to work, I settled into the least threadbare of the chairs with a book I’d brought.
Lane sorted through the small figurines and other items he’d found in the antique shop, separating them into three piles. I made it through less than two pages of my book before I abandoned it, laying it beside me with the pages splayed open to mark my place. I couldn’t stop watching Lane.
He was sitting on the floor with his legs crossed. He had on purple leggings with holes at the knees and a plaid button-down shirt that must be at least three sizes too big for him. His hair was still gelled, but I knew he’d start raking his fingers through it as he worked, and it would begin to curl again, returning to its natural wildness.
He was thinking so hard I could practically hear it. He carefully studied each piece that he picked up. As I watched him, I tried to puzzle out what his criteria were for categorizing the objects.
When he finished, he glanced up. “I could feel you watching me.”
Heat rushed to my face. “I can’t help it. You’re fascinating.”
“I’m just organizing my supplies.”
“I would enjoy watching you do anything.”
Heat flashed in his eyes for a moment. “I bet you would.”
“Tell me about these.” I gestured toward the piles he’d made. “What will you use them for?”
“Come down here, and I’ll show you.”
I joined him on the floor, and he pointed to a pile that was composed of all types of thimbles.