I hug her tightly, resting my chin on the top of her head. Her body trembles at my touch. “Are there any updates? I saw Chip on the way in. They been here constantly, right?”
Maeve nods. “They haven’t seen her. It’s like Rena knew and vanished.”
Closing my eyes, I let anger slip. “I’m realizing that even though it seemed that way, she never vanishes completely.”
“Ramona is on her way over,” she says, wringing her hands together. “Turner is bathed and we had dinner an hour ago. Ramona said she didn’t mind putting him to bed and hanging out here. If you know, you wanted to head over to my house for a little while. To have alone time.”
I can’t reply quick enough. “Yes. Yes.”
It’s unreal she thinks I’d have issue with it. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to leave Turner. With you just getting home and all.” It’s adorable how nervous she seems to be about arranging a fuck fest with her fiancé. “I know he needs to come first, I just assumed because he’d be sleeping he wouldn’t know we were gone, and Chip will stay here, I just talked to him. Because they haven’t seen Rena, he said it was safe. He thinks she’s back in Mexico.”
I pull away to meet her eyes. “Did they get the flight logs?”
Her beautiful blue eyes fill with tears as she shakes her head. “They aren’t sure how she’s getting back and forth. It’s like she’s a ghost.”
The cartel is shady as fuck. I wouldn’t doubt they have underground bunkers she’s hiding out in. I’m not talking about shitty ass, leaking bunkers either. It’s how they move drugs. We’re learning a lot about this cartel, and everything new I find out shocks me a little more. The doorbell rings and we both check out the security app at the same time and laugh. It’s Ramona.
“Do you like my picture?” Turner extends the torn piece of paper up to me. “I didn’t rip it out very nicely and it tore.” It’s a black puppy with brown on the tail.
“Is it Chonk?” I ask him, as Maeve lets in Ramona and they chit-chat about their day.
Turner frowns. “No. I don’t know what Chonk looked like as a puppy. Do you think he was this cute?”
“Cuter,” I say. “I bet he was the fattest puppy in his litter.” I always bring him something back from trips, and this one is no exception. He keeps eyeing the small duffel bag I set down at the door. “You want to see what I brought you?”
“Yes! Yes!” He skips over as I squat down and unzip the bag.
I hand him a small, hand-braided collar. It was made by women in the village we were staying in. “This is too small for Chonk,” he says, narrowing his eyes at the fabric.
“I thought you could put it on one of your stuffed animals.”
Now his eyes light up. “The one Maevey gave me!”
I nod. “That’s what I was thinking. Do you like it? It has your favorite colors.”
“I love it. Thank you, Daddy!” Ah, I got a daddy. “I’m going to go get my animal.” He scurries off to his bedroom. He has small hand-carved, wooden animals from my trips to Africa, and Conch shells I dove for from Seychelles. He has bits and bobbles from all over the world and he treasures each one, asking me to tell a story to go with the gift.
Turner returns with what I think is a bear and the collar fastens around his neck and fits perfectly. “Ah, there you go. Maevey told me you’re going to stay with Ramona for a little while before bed. That okay with you, buddy? Tomorrow, I’ll bring you to school and we can do something fun after. What do you say?”
“I say, yes!” Turner is excited and Ramona takes him by the hand and leads him to the coffee table where the art supplies are laid out.
“You can shower when we get to the mountain house.” She doesn’t call it her house. Maeve is careful, thoughtful with her words and I used to think it’s because she was constantly hiding something from me, but now I know it’s just because she’s highly attuned to the emotions that surround her.
I swallow hard as she picks up a small bag. “See you in a bit, Ramona. I owe you!”
Kissing Turner, I thank Ramona and follow Maeve out into the garage. “You really had a plan tonight, didn’t you?” I ask as we get into her car. She took the space next to mine, and the third garage is now nothing but storage.
She pulls out of the garage and doesn’t leave the driveway until it closes behind us. “I wanted to talk to you and didn’t want to do it in front of Turner.”
“I’m stinky, dirty, covered in grease and gunpowder, and I’ve had a hard-on since I buckled my seat belt. Are we doing major talks while I’m in this state?”
Maeve smirks, but doesn’t take her eyes off the road. “When you put it that way, should I pull over now and have my way with you, my wayward warlord?”
Laying a hand on her arm, “What is it?”
“I saw the folder in your desk drawer.”
“On Autumn Glass?” My tone lowers.