Aiden shook her extended hand. “I’m Rudy and this is Priscilla,” he said as Charlie shook her hand, as well. “It’s kind of you to let us stay here, ma’am.”
“My pleasure.” She smiled, but glanced down at their hands, noticing they didn’t have any luggage, only shopping bags and the backpack. “I hope it’s okay if I collect payment in advance.”
“No problem.” Aiden gave her two hundred dollars.
“This is too much.” She tried to hand back several bills.
“Please, keep it,” Aiden said. “We heard you’re an incredible cook. Consider it a tip in advance.”
“Very generous of you.” She beamed. “Dinner will be ready by six, but I can keep it warm for you as late as eleven. That’s when my last show goes off and I turn in. Breakfast can be served anytime, except tomorrow. I go to church on Sundays. So it’ll have to be before eight. If you have any allergies just let me know.”
“Wonderful,” Charlie said, “and no allergies for either of us. We’ll eat anything.”
The cabbie took the key from his aunt. “I’ll walk them up and show them the place. Save you the trip.”
Aiden and Charlie followed him up the steep exterior staircase. The structure was a good ten yards behind the main house, which had blooming flowers in all the beds and a well-maintained lawn. The garage apartment was far enough back to give them ample privacy.
The driver unlocked the door and handed Aiden the key.
A decent-sized studio, the place was as advertised. Simple. Clean. A rudimentary kitchen outfitted with the basics, including a coffee maker and take-out menus from places that delivered. Towels in the bathroom along with bodywash and shampoo.
It was more than they could’ve asked for.
But there was only one queen-size bed.
“Henri’s number and the password for the Wi-Fi are next to the phone. I’m Junior, by the way. If you need a ride anywhere, day or night, give me a holler. Here’s my card.” Smiling, he offered one that Charlie took. “I’ll get out of your hair now.”
Nodding his thanks, Aiden set the shopping bags down on the counter.
Junior hurried out the door like he was trying hard not to take up too much time or be too friendly.
Aiden appreciated it.
Once Junior had cleared the stairs and the car door slammed closed, Charlie said, “We never got the envelope to Walsh and I don’t think it’s a good idea to go back to the restaurant.”
She emptied the backpack on the counter, setting out a Smith and Wesson M&P 9 mm, shoulder holsters, tactical knives, zip ties, extra clips, and ammo for the guns, which they had three of, including the ones they took from Devlin and his buddy.
In Louisiana, no state permit, driver’s license, firearm registration or background check was required, and by the looks of the supplies, no magazine capacity restriction, either. He wasn’t complaining. This was the perfect state if you were a gun enthusiast or an outlaw.
An expandable baton made of strong, durable seamless alloy steel rolled along the counter as she pulled out a few more items that looked more suited for camping than their needs.
Taking off the sunglasses and wig, Aiden sat on the bed and scratched his head. “If it wasn’t Walsh who texted the hit men in San Diego, then it was one of his guys. Either way, he’d get a message if we sent one.”
“Then let’s do it.”
Aiden tore open the sealed envelope and laid the documents on the bed. He snapped a picture of each and sent them to the New Orleans number in the phone along with a text.
We have the flash drive with hard evidence on you and your friends.
Want to trade? Or do you want to go to prison?
“That’ll get Walsh’s attention,” Aiden said. No need to rush the ask. Walsh was willing to pay millions to torture Edgar. They had time to play their hand the proper way, but not much. “Now we wait.” He glanced at the clock. “We’ve got a couple of hours until dinner. I’m going to get some shut-eye.”
Charlie removed her wig and the tomato-red shirt. “Can we talk?”
“Nothing else to say. We covered it last night.” He tugged off his boots and sighed in relief. “I’ve been pushing for over thirty hours and it’s been a tough day. I just want to take a nap. We can talk over dinner if necessary. Okay?”
Charlie hung her head. “Sure.” She went to the bathroom and closed the door.
The shower started.
Aiden lay down, facing a wall and nightstand, fully dressed, and stared at the clock. He knew he needed to sleep, but he was restless and edgy. Too amped up to close his eyes or to relax.
His thoughts were a whirlwind and his emotions were all over the place before Charlie had kissed him in the market, and at the moment, they threatened to call the shots, but he refused to let them mess with his head.
Flopping onto his back, he stared at the ceiling. The curtains were too thin. The room was too bright. The sun was too hot. The room was too stuffy.
He looked back at the clock on the nightstand. Charlie had been in there a long time. She’d taken five minutes last night and now had been in the bathroom for close to thirty.
It wasn’t his business. She wasn’t his business. If she wanted to spend three hours in the bathroom, that was her prerogative. Have at it. Use all the hot water. I don’t care.
Going on close to an hour, he admitted he was getting worried. Tempted even to knock on the door and ask if she needed anything. But nope.
He. Would. Not.
Finally, the water stopped; movement in the bathroom. He rolled onto his side, ensuring his back would be to her when she came out.
The door opened. Aiden shut his eyes, stilled his body, pretending to be asleep.
Charlie padded around the foot of the bed. Based on the sound, she was barefoot.
The mattress sank as she sat and lay down. His pulse skyrocketed, but he forced himself to take slow, even breaths. Forced himself not to move beyond the rise and fall of his chest.
“Aiden? Are you awake?”
It crossed his mind not to respond, to keep feigning sleep, but pretending for years that he wasn’t in love with her and that whomever she slept with didn’t bother him had only made things worse—throwing gasoline on the fire that had torched their friendship.
“I’m up,” he said, letting every drop of irritation that he felt leak into his tone.
The mattress shook as she scooted closer and clasped his arm. “Aiden. Please. Look at me.”
But he couldn’t. Listening was one thing, but he didn’t have the strength to look at her and keep a rein on his emotions.