“We’ll work the same cover as before,” Quint said to Ree as she sat in the passenger seat with the opened file on her lap. “As a newly married couple who are very much in love.”
“I’m guessing the boot comes back on, then,” she said, studying the tree drawing.
“It’s a good way to counter my size, but we can ditch it,” he said. They needed to make him seem like less of a threat to lower a target’s defenses. The trick had worked like magic in Cricket Creek, but it came with its downsides. For instance, him forgetting to put it on.
“So you’ll have walked away from your moving business due to this injury that came from moving a piano,” she said, reviewing the facts.
“That’s right,” he confirmed. “Just no boot this time. I’m healing.”
“And we had our first date at the pizza place on Third Street in Austin,” she continued.
“There’s no better place for craft pizza,” he said with a smile.
“And Ronnie always comes out to check on the table when you order the day’s special,” she said.
Quint nodded.
“You’ll be restocking, washing glasses and keeping the bartender happy as a barback in a popular country-and-western bar this time, so no heavy trays of food to carry,” he said.
“No heavy food trays to carry.” She didn’t mind that part so much.
“This place is supposedly frequented by guys who are associated with Dumitru. One of the girlfriends of someone high up in the operation is a bartender there. Her name is Lola, and her boyfriend’s name is Constantin,” Quint said. “Your job is to try to get as close to her as possible.”
“Got it,” she said.
“Word of warning, Constantin goes by the name Lights Out because he likes to kill people while they’re sleeping.” Quint’s tone was all business now.
This definitely made her realize they’d moved up the crime scale a few notches. This case had the potential to be even riskier, the criminals more violent and dangerous. Then there was Quint’s lack of objectivity to consider. She had to trust he would step back when necessary. And yet knowing him and how determined he was to get to Dumitru, that might be asking the impossible.
“Before we get into this, I need to know you’ll listen to me if I say it’s time to pull back,” Ree said. He shot her a look that said he didn’t appreciate the comment. She put her hands in the air in the surrender position. “I’ve gotten to know you pretty well recently, and I’ve noticed that once you get on a trail, you don’t let up. The trait is great for a case when it’s applied at the right time and for the right reasons.”
“But?”
“I think we both know what comes next without me spelling it out,” she said.
Anger radiated off him in palpable waves. To his credit, he gripped the steering wheel tighter and clamped his mouth shut. They both knew she was right. The fact that he didn’t argue made her believe he might just listen to her in a sticky situation.
“Noted,” he finally said. “And I give you my word.”
His promise was good enough for her. Time would tell if he could stay true to his word. In the meantime, she wouldn’t overthink it.
“I’m guessing since this is Houston that I’ll be working a honky-tonk,” she said.
“And you’d be wrong,” he said with a smirk.
“What? No cowgirl boots this time?” She feigned disappointment.
“You get to wear tuxedo shorts, suspenders and a red bow tie,” he said.
“Please tell me this is not a strip club,” she begged.
“It’s a trendy place,” he said. “The barbacks have a different outfit than bartenders and waitresses. You’ll have the most skin covered. But you’ll have to wear black fishnet stockings every night so I’m not sure how you feel about that.”
“Great,” she said. “I’d rather have on those and be fully covered, thank you very much.”
“You won’t get an argument from me there,” he said, surprising her with his honesty and protectiveness over her. It wasn’t the same as she was used to from Preston and her mother. Theirs made her feel like she was incompetent at her job. Quint’s concern for her came from a place of not wanting her to be forced into doing something she wasn’t comfortable with, which wasn’t the same thing. He believed in her and came across as proud of her for being capable in her profession. His protectiveness wasn’t suffocating.
“Do you have a picture of Lola by chance?” Ree asked.
“It’s grainy,” he said, pulling into a downtown apartment building garage. “You’ll be working at a bar in the GreenStreet area. This place is within walking distance. It’s a studio, so tight quarters, but we don’t have a whole lot of belongings, and it’s fully furnished.”
“Corporate apartments?” she asked, figuring the ones rented by companies for business travelers were normally the ones that came set up and ready to go.
“That’s right,” he said. “All we need to do is unpack our clothes. I’ll set up my laptop at the bar-height counter separating the kitchen from the living space.”
Ree nodded. They’d spent a week in a one-room cabin on their last case and did fine. This shouldn’t present a problem.
“We’re on the seventh floor this time,” he said. “Agent Grappell said Lola lives in the same building on nine.”
“Maybe we’ll run into each other in the elevator,” Ree said.
Ree glanced at the number on the wall where he’d parked. Their spot was number thirteen. She hoped it wasn’t an ominous sign.
“What’s our apartment number?” she asked.
“Seven-three it is,” he said with a smile.
At least the two of them were off to a better start than on the last case, where she’d tried to lay down the law on day one and he’d planted a kiss that still made her lips sizzle every time she thought about it.
She grabbed her bag as he disappeared into a door marked Elevators. He returned with a cart that looked like something a bellman would bring. Folks must move in and out of the building frequently if these were at the ready. It made sense when she thought about the fact that several of these apartments were used as corporate housing. Businesspeople would show up with nothing more than a couple of suitcases and whatever technology allowed them to do their jobs.
Ree waited until the cart was loaded and they were safely in apartment 73 before asking the question that had been on her mind since they’d parked. “Does Lola live here with her boyfriend?”
“From what Agent Grappell could uncover, Lights Out visits her and spends a lot of time here, but he has a house in Galveston on the bay side. His brother lives with him, and Grappell didn’t have a whole lot of intel on the brother,” Quint stated.
“That sounds suspect,” Ree said. The only people who avoided being in the system were criminals. Big-time drug dealers were known to “borrow” vehicles or hire drivers rather than own one so the registration couldn’t be traced back to them. She always knew someone was a lifetime criminal when she went back to find their picture in a high school yearbook only to discover there was none. People who intended to live a life of crime from an early age went to extremes to ensure there was no trail that could easily identify them.
“My thoughts exactly,” he agreed as he stood in the middle of the room. “Home sweet home.”
“Home” was an open space with a kitchen that could best be described as a kitchenette. One person could fit inside there, and it would be a stretch for someone Quint’s size. The entryway was barely big enough for him to turn around in without bumping into a wall, but the room opened up nicely and the back wall was basically all glass, allowing for a ton of light. Their last place, the cabin in tiny Cricket Creek, Texas, had been much darker.
“It’s very modern and clean. I’ll give it that,” Ree said as she stepped into the middle of the living area. Around the corner from the kitchen was a raised platform and niche that held the bed. A wall of closets was to one side. “Is there laundry?”
“In the building, just not in the apartment,” he said.
The furniture was sleek and modern with clean lines. It was basically what she expected from a downtown Houston apartment.
“This place looks like something out of a magazine,” she said, walking over to the closet with her suitcase. “I can’t say the furniture looks especially comfortable. It’s not exactly what you’d be able to sink into to watch a movie, but it does look chic.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Quint said. “It’s like living in a museum where you’d be afraid to mess anything up.”
“Everything has its place,” she agreed. “The bed is decent-sized, though. And it looks comfortable for a good night of sleep.”
“I can take the couch,” he said.
“Not again,” she countered. “This bed is big enough for both of us. You can stay to your side. We can put a row of pillows in between us. But I won’t let you sacrifice sleep again.” She shot him a look. “No arguing.”
“I WOULDN’T WANT to fight with my wife,” Quint fired back with a smirk. “You know the old saying, happy wife, happy life.”
Ree rolled her eyes.
“You know I can see you, right?” he said.
“That’s the whole point,” she said before unpacking her suitcase and offering to do the same for him.
“I got it,” he said, moving next to her and taking over a third of the closet. He had a pretty basic wardrobe of jeans and black T-shirts.
“I don’t know if you’re trying to sell the whole ‘tech worker’ bit, but your wardrobe fits the lifestyle,” Ree said when she examined his clothes. Quint had posed as a tech student on their last assignment as well. It was meant to be a second career after selling the moving business he’d started with a partner.
Quint laughed. “No one has ever complained about my clothing style before.”
Tech workers were notorious for having a closet full of basically the same clothes—jeans and T-shirts. The idea being that the brain could only handle a certain number of decisions each day before paralysis set in. The Silicon Valley set didn’t want to waste one of those on clothes. It was smart when Quint really thought about it and made him feel a whole lot less lazy about his wardrobe.
“I didn’t say it looked bad on you,” she said as her cheeks turned a couple shades of pink. Ree turned away from him and picked pretend lint from a dress hanging in the closet.
Rather than reply, he said, “We should probably get a feel for the building and grab supplies.”
“When do I interview for the barback job?” she asked.
“Done deal. The agency has an in with the club owner. You start tomorrow, and your uniform will be ready when you check in for work. Randy Halo owns several bars. He married a supermodel a few years back. She got into some trouble. The agency got her out in exchange for information. To make a long story short, she still owes the agency, and her husband doesn’t want a criminal element in his club. He runs legitimate businesses and wants to keep his licenses,” Quint explained.
“Good for him,” she said. “Plus, a bar owner keeping a liquor license seems pretty important to keep the doors open.”
“Lucky for us, he saw it in the same way,” Quint said.
“Or lucky for him. Otherwise, it doesn’t sound like he’d have much of a business right now,” she quipped.
“Very true,” Quint agreed. “Sadly, you’re going to have to stay on your feet for entire shifts again.”
“Nothing a bucket of ice won’t cure,” she said. “Before we get too deep in the case, mind if I check on my grandfather? He was most likely running late earlier, but I’d feel better if I heard it from him. You know?”
“Knock yourself out,” he said. “I’ll be in the kitchen to give you some privacy.”
They both laughed at his comment when they glanced around the room. The kitchen wouldn’t provide much solitude, but the gesture counted for something.
Quint moved into the other room and checked the fridge. He could open the fridge and freezer without hitting anything, and he could turn around in the space. That was the extent of his ability to move. Ree was quiet in the next room, and he took it as a bad sign.
A minute later, she showed up at the counter between the kitchen and living space. She claimed a barstool and blew out a breath, setting her cell phone down in front of her.
“No answer.” She motioned toward the time showing on her phone. “And it’s barely eight o’clock.”
“Did you leave a message?” Quint asked. He didn’t hear her, but that wasn’t proof. She could have spoken quietly into the phone.
She shook her head.
“I texted him instead,” she said. “Our cell phones aren’t compatible, so his doesn’t always register when I call and vice versa.”
“The last person I dated had a problem with our incompatible phones,” he said. “I’m pretty certain it’s the reason we broke up. She would call and I wouldn’t get the notification. When I didn’t return her call in a reasonable amount of time, she thought I was out playing the field.”
“You wouldn’t do that to someone you cared about,” Ree said without hesitation.
“Tell that to Amber,” he said.
“Amber’s the one missing out, then,” Ree said without stopping to think much about her words. How did she understand him better than someone he’d spent six months getting to know? Not that he was complaining. All good partnerships started with a fundamental knowledge of each other’s personalities and ticks.
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” he said. “But she seems happier with Todd.”
“What kind of name is Todd?” she said with a smirk.
“I know...right?” He kept the joke alive. They both knew there wasn’t anything wrong with the name. It was common.
“Were you in love?” Ree asked without looking up from her screen.
“With Todd?” he balked.
Ree shot him a look that would make any high schooler sit up and take note.
“I cared about her,” he said.
“Not the same thing, and we both know it,” she countered.
“It’s as close as I can get,” he said in all honesty. Too bad his answer seemed to cause her to deflate.
A knock at the door caused them both to jump, and the tense moment happening between them passed.