Becoming Rain

I grit my teeth against the jab to my ego. Is she trying to make me feel better by admitting to this? “Was it really that bad?”

“No, it wasn’t. That’s the thing,” she whispers, and I feel her eyes burning into the side of my face. “It was too easy because I wanted to.”

I meet her eyes—so sincere, so deceptive—for just a moment before turning away again.

“I think I’m a pretty good cop and person, but I did things that I’m ashamed of. At first it was because of my ego and my career, and then . . .” She ducks her head, blushing. “. . . it was because of you. The entire time, I knew it was wrong, but I kept doing it. I couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t want to.” She turns to focus on the little boy again. “You’re a good person, too, Luke. I believe that.”

Even though I don’t trust her, her words temporarily soothe the guilt burning my insides.

A baby cries out and the woman reaches down to fuss over her other son, adjusting his soother and blanket. “Do you think they’ll get an arrest for her husband out of this?”

“The truck is long gone, so not likely, unless someone confesses. Which they tend not to do,” Rain says matter-of-factly. “But maybe we can uncover the stolen SUVs involved in the latest hijackings and get some arrests out of that.”

“Aref’s not going to go through with that shipment if Vlad is busted,” I counter.

Rain doesn’t answer. While I’ve spilled my guts about all that I know, I have no idea exactly what else they’ve gathered, or how far they’ve reached into Rust’s organization.

Looking at the remnants of Wayne Billings’s family across from me, I find myself hoping they have enough to bring it down.

Ringing sounds from Rain’s purse and I recognize it as my phone. “It’s Miller,” she says, pulling it out of her purse to read the screen. “Act normal and don’t try talking through code because I’ll know right away.” With that warning—reminding me that she isn’t Rain, she’s a cop—she hands it over to me.

“Hey, Miller, what’s up?” Can he hear it in my voice? Does he know I’ve given him up?

Miller’s usual gruff voice fills my ear. “I have some more checks I need you to sign. Can you make it in this afternoon?”

I look at my watch and then at Rain. It’s noon and we’re a good drive away. “Yeah, give me a few hours.”

“What does he need?” she asks right way.

“I need to sign some checks.” I sigh. “What’s going to happen to him? It seems unfair that I get off and he doesn’t. He’s got three kids. One of them’s in a wheelchair. Isn’t there something you can do to help him?”

I see Rain’s throat bob with a swallow, her eyes leaving mine. “Miller’s going to help himself. Trust me.”

Chapter 62

CLARA

“I’ll make this quick,” Luke mumbles as we step out of his car and head toward the garage. He keeps flexing his hands. I know he’s nervous.

I am too.

We have a lot riding on everything going smoothly and, while we have no reason to suspect that anyone’s after Luke, given that he’s basically been cut out of the ring since Rust’s death, we can’t leave anything to chance.

Miller’s on his feet as soon as we step in, dark bags hanging under his eyes.

He’s not going to last long under Sinclair’s glare.

“Thanks for coming, Luke.” He moves quickly, collecting the sheets and a pen, and walking over to lay them all out on Luke’s desk for him. “This one’s for the repairs on one of the lifts. And this one’s . . .” He goes on, explaining each invoice, that abrasive demeanor gone, replaced with only helpfulness. Some may say it’s because he feels a strange kinship with Luke, for what happened. Others may say that he’s worried about keeping his job.

I know that it’s pure guilt.

But I keep my mouth shut, pulling my phone out to check my texts, because that’s what a twenty-something-year-old girl standing in a garage would do, while her boyfriend sits down and signs away money.

“Is that it?” I watch Luke’s face as he barely glances at Miller, like he’s having trouble making eye contact. Of all the confessions he made, giving up Miller’s name was the hardest. I saw it in his eyes; I heard it in his voice.

If he only knew what I suspected, he wouldn’t feel so guilty.

Miller nods. “Yup. But, listen . . .” He checks his watch, clearing his throat several times. “I hate to do this to you, but I need to head out a bit early tonight. I’ve got to take Paige to an appointment.” Eyes downcast, shifting on his feet.

Miller’s a terrible liar.

“I can stick around and lock up.” Luke turns to me. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Anyone could explain Luke’s reserved, overly calm temperament as the lingering effects of the shock of his uncle’s murder, but this all feels way too awkward and wrong. Sliding my phone into my pocket, I plaster on my softest smile and stroll around the desk to lean against his side.

He stiffens immediately.

“Of course.” Casually sliding my arm around his shoulder, I dig my thumb into his back in warning.

With a soft exhale, his body slackens slightly.

“Are you sure? Because I could ask Tabbs. He’s good for it.”

“Did I just hear my name?” A short, bald mechanic sticks his head in and tosses a set of keys to Miller. “Brakes are done on the Jeep.”