“How do you remember that after all this time?” I didn’t tell him the reality was I always drank it black because I couldn’t afford cream or sugar. “This is fine.”
He didn’t make a move toward his own mug, seemingly intent on watching me taste the best coffee ever.
As if.
Not wanting to disappoint and looking forward to telling him I’d tasted way better coffee, lots of times in fact, I lifted my mug for a sip.
“Oh my God,” I said, putting the mug down. “Holy shit, that’s excellent coffee.”
I hated I couldn’t at least even try to give him a hard time. What could I say? The man was right about the coffee. I took another sip. Across the table, Piers grinned.
“Okay,” I admitted after my fourth or fifth sip. “You’re right. It is the best coffee I’ve ever had. What kind of bean does he use?”
Piers shook his head. “He won’t tell me. Says it’s a secret.”
“It’s so good, but so hard to explain.” I took another sip, trying to determine what made the coffee so different, but so good.
Piers nodded. “It has to be the beans. The owner roasts them himself.”
I looked over his shoulder at the young man he’d been talking with earlier. Whoever it was now chatted with a young couple who’d just walked in pushing a stroller. “The guy who took our order?”
“Yes.”
I looked again over his shoulder to find the owner had stepped out from behind the counter and had bent down in front of the stroller to talk to the baby. As I watched, all three adults laughed at something. “Is he a friend of yours?” I asked as the man in question stood up and went back to work.
“Something like that,” Piers said. “But it’s a long story, and not one I feel like diving into today. I’ll tell you later, but right now you’re the only one I want to think and talk about.”
He spoke in a very by-your-leave-type manner, but something flashed in his eyes when he mentioned the long story. I didn’t dwell on it but made a mental note to ask him about it later. Instead we talked about where the past few years had taken us. I ensured everything I told him matched what I’d told Tenor and Mia. Not that I thought they’d all three get together to compare notes or anything, but it didn’t hurt to play it safe.
Piers was nothing at all the way I’d imagined he’d be. Based on our history, I’d expected him to be guarded and, more than likely, hesitant to speak about anything. But he was the exact opposite. The entire time we were in the café, he was jovial, funny, and easy to talk with. It didn’t match up at all with how I’d been told he was. The only reason I could come up with to explain the disconnect was that Piers was unaware of how much I knew about him.
We were just finishing up our second cup of coffee when the phone Piers had placed on the table rang. He picked it up and looked at the display with a frown.
“I have to take this,” he said, and I nodded.
I expected him to stand and walk somewhere private, but he didn’t.
“This is Piers,” he answered.
I heard someone talking on the other end but not well enough to catch what they said. Based on the expression Piers wore as whoever it was continued, the news wasn’t good. He listened, and when the caller finished speaking, Piers only said, “Give me fifteen.”
He disconnected with a sigh and looked at me. “Unfortunately, we’re going to have to reschedule dinner. One of my clients is in trouble, and I’m needed at the police station.”
My ears perked up. This could be some juicy information. And if it was juicy enough, my earlier snafu of making contact too soon might be overlooked. “Don’t worry about it,” I said, trying to figure out how to discretely learn the details. “I’m sure the answer is no, but is there anything I can help you do?”
A smile broke across his face. “How sweet of you to ask, but no. I’m afraid not.”
I nodded in understanding. “Sticky business issues are sticky. I could tell by the way your face looked when the client called it wouldn’t be good news.”
Piers stood and started to clean off the table, but stopped when the owner yelled at him to knock it off. Piers waved and held the door open for me. “It wasn’t the client I was talking with on the phone. Let me get you a cab.”
“No need to hail a cab, I can take the T.”
“If we had gone out for dinner, I can promise you I wouldn’t have let you ride the subway. Humor me and let me ensure you get home safely.”
I couldn’t find any way to argue with that, so I allowed him to hail a cab and prepaid my way home. We’d exchanged phone numbers at the café so it wouldn’t be a problem for us to touch base again, but before I left him tonight, I had one more question. Fingers crossed, he’d answer and give me something to pass along and not just look at me as if I’d lost every bit of sense I had.
“If it wasn’t your client who called,” I asked Piers as he held the back door of the cab open for me, “who was it who told you they were at the police station?”
“It was his foster mom,” Piers answered and closed the door. “I’ll call you.”
Chapter 5
Bri
Two words echoed in my head the entire ride to my apartment.
Foster mom.
What the hell did that mean?
Of course I knew what a foster mom was. I just couldn’t match it up with anything having to do with Piers. Why would his client have given his foster mom his corporation’s attorney’s contact information?
I actually questioned for a moment if Piers was really a business attorney. Stupid, I thought almost as quickly. Of course he was a business attorney. The real question was, what else was he? How many pies did he have fingers in?
I knew as soon as I walked into what now appeared my bleak and lonely-looking apartment I couldn’t hold off on it any longer. I had to make a phone call.
“Tell me what I want to hear,” he said, forgoing any common greeting.
I wished more than anything I could tell him what he wanted. But life doesn’t work like that. Taking a deep breath, I gave the truth of my interaction with Piers.
“He knew I was following him,” I said, hurriedly adding, “He knew almost immediately someone was tailing him. I don’t know how, but you remember I told you before how good he is?”
“It appears we may have underestimated Piers.”
I held my breath. May have underestimated?
“Are you certain you have what it takes to continue with this assignment?” His voice was calm with no audible ire, but I knew all too well how much of an expert he was at hiding his true feelings.
“Yes, sir.” I closed my eyes. “Please let me stay on this job.”
Only silence greeted me as my request, and future, was pondered. Should I bring up the call that usurped our dinner plans? Something told me to hold on to that nugget of information for the time being.
“Lucky for you,” he finally said. “We’re down a member, and out of those remaining, you are still the one most suited for your current assignment. We can overlook your slip-up this one time, but mess up again and it’ll be doubly bad for you.”