“You know anything about video games?” Alex asked as Colin stuffed his laptop into a messenger bag.
“I know a bit.”
“Give me a tip,” Alex said. “I need to up my game.”
Do something cool for Elle’s kid? This was a no-brainer—he liked working with the boys, and he liked that he could be a positive influence rather than a bad one. That had to count for something. Plus, Alex was a good kid. “Here’s your tip. It’s all strategy. You just devise a strategy and follow it. But don’t be afraid to pivot if things change, and then to pivot again,” he said, then let his own advice register. Because, as he noodled on the words, he realized they might apply to his approach with Elle.
His strategy had been to focus on the physical, then on the fun and friendship, despite her big reservations. The approach had worked, to a point. Each encounter they’d had was hotter than the last, and each moment together seemed to show how good a time they could have. The question was, when would all the fun and games tip over into something more? Something deeper. He’d sensed an inkling of emotion from her at the Mob Museum, and even more the other morning at the cafe by the canyon. Was it time to pivot once again?
“Strategy,” Alex repeated, then tapped his temple as he played. “I’m working on my strategy as we speak. Thanks, man.”
Alex held out his free hand for a low high-five, and Colin obliged.
As the boys returned to the game, Colin tapped the back of the couch and told them he’d see them later in the week. On the way out, he walked past the vending machine. The Diet Cherry Coke had been restocked. A rarity. He plugged some quarters in and snagged a cold one, then stopped at Elle’s office to say a quick good-bye.
A chaste good-bye. A friendly good-bye. To show her he could care for her not only in bed, but also during the regular rhythm of her day. She loved Diet Cherry Coke in the afternoon. A pick-me-up. Yes, it was a small thing. But wasn’t it the little gestures in life that often mattered the most?
The door was shut. He knocked and heard some rustling and the squeak of a chair. There was no answer. He waited ten seconds before he knocked once more.
“I’m busy now.” Her voice was tinny from behind the walls.
He set the can on the floor and left, sending her a text that the soda was from him.
A few minutes later, as he drove home, his phone rang with a call from an international number. He swiped over the screen immediately, eager for the details from Ryan.
“How’s Johnny Cash?”
Colin laughed deeply. Only his dog-loving brother would focus on the four-legged beast first. “I’m on my way home to take care of him now. He is a prince among canines. I took him to the dog park the other night and all the lady dogs ran up to him,” Colin said into the speakerphone as he slowed at a red light.
“They can’t help themselves around him. You can use him as a wingman if you think he can help you land a woman. Wait. What’s the latest with the woman from the benefit?”
Colin tapped the steering wheel and blew out a long stream of air. “Like I said before you left, it’s complicated. Speaking of complicated, you know that kid who was following Shan? I’ve got great news for you.” He told his brother what he’d learned an hour ago about the Protectors. “So it’s all good. We don’t need to worry about him,” he said, pressing the gas as the light changed. “Now, why don’t you tell me why the hell you’re calling from Germany at midnight your time when you should be focusing on your woman?”
“Don’t you worry. I’m still focusing on her, but you will not fucking believe what she found out the other night.”
“Lay it on me.”
“Sophie was jet-lagged and couldn’t sleep. So she was working on deciphering the rest of the pattern that I told you about.” Ryan was talking about the sewing pattern that their mom had passed onto him before she went to prison. She’d asked Ryan, then just a fourteen-year-old, to hold on to it for her, telling him that it was a prized pattern for a dog jacket that she wanted to make when she was freed. He’d held onto the hope that she might be innocent, and so he’d saved the pattern for her, only to discover a week ago, when Sophie tried to make the jacket, that it was a code of sorts. The first row contained addresses that corresponded to the homes of the shooter, and of the two alleged accomplices in their father’s murder. Sophie had said there was more to the pattern, and she’d need extra time with it.
“What did she find out? What were the rest of the lines?” Colin asked.
“It’s a list of more addresses. They had missing numbers and symbols, but she worked on it and she figured out all of them. She gave it to John, and when he put it together with the leads he’s been looking into, he believes the pattern is a hell of a lot more than just those two guys. You better be sitting down,” Ryan said, his voice heavy and intense.
Colin slowed the car, pulled over, and cut the engine. “Talk to me. What is it?”
Ryan heaved a sigh then told him the newest wrinkle.
Colin was damn glad he’d pulled over. His head fell back against the headrest, the shock of Ryan’s new revelation echoing in his bones.
When he reached his home and leashed up his brother’s dog, his phone buzzed once more. Elle had messaged him. At last. But when he read the note, frustration seared him to a crisp.
Elle: I’m so sorry. I have to cancel tomorrow. Something came up.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Johnny Cash trotted perfectly by Colin’s side as Michael pulled up in his black BMW, a mountain bike on the roof. Colin slowed his pace and met Michael as he stepped out of his car. His brother must have come straight from the office. He wore his usual striped button-down, tie, and dark pants. When he reached Colin, he whipped off his sunglasses, his cool blue gaze sharp as ever. “Did you talk to Ryan? You ready for the detective?”
Colin pushed his palm down as if to say let’s take it easy. “It’s just a talk. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
Michael clapped him on the back. “I know that, man. That’s not my point. I was just asking. Just making sure.”
Colin brushed off Michael’s hand. “I get it. But the point is I’m neither worried, nor surprised about anything related to our mother,” he said, though that wasn’t entirely true. He’d been shocked by the news Ryan had shared about her, but only for the first few minutes. At this point Colin was accustomed to hearing that she was a less than stellar citizen.
What had him so prickly was Elle’s cancellation of their plans tomorrow with zero explanation. Nothing. Not a word. That confused the hell out of him, especially because he had no right to ask her what was up. She’d been direct from day one about what she could give and what she couldn’t. They were friends-plus-more, and that was that. She’d made no promises, and he had no reason to feel slighted.
Except…she’d been giving off some serious I want more vibes at the café the other morning. He’d been damn sure they were crossing into the unchartered territory of more—exactly where he wanted to be with her.
But, hell, maybe that had been wishful thinking on his part. Maybe he’d been reading too much into one small, sweet little moment. Because this Elle—the hot and cold one—was the one he’d been used to. Push, pull. Move forward, retreat. Fuck, freak out.
Time to wise up and accept what she would give, instead of angling for something he’d never have. Elle was the summit he’d never reach, thanks to his past.
Right now, Colin’s present involved a detective, who parked his Nissan Leaf at the curb in front of his house. Colin nudged Michael and dropped his voice. “I never, never, never would have pegged the detective as the owner of an electric car.”
Michael laughed. “Doesn’t he know he’s required to drive a sedan? Four doors, dark blue, unmarked. Just like the movies.”
John walked over to the two of them, took off his shades, and said hello. Johnny Cash barked at the man. Colin tugged on the dog’s leash, giving him a quick correction. “It’s okay, Johnny Cash. If you’re nice to him, the detective won’t throw us in the pokey,” Colin said.