Val was unhappy. “You think Giada won’t do something drastic when she finds out Thomas isn’t dead, after all? She’s going to come for him. She’s going to come for all of you.”
“We’ll be ready,” Travis said.
Val narrowed her eyes. “You insane son of a bitch. You put your family through all that, and now, you’re using Thomas as bait?”
I glared at Val. “That’s one hell of an accusation.” I looked at my husband, waiting for him to deny it. He didn’t. “Travis. Tell me it’s not true.”
“You couldn’t get a direct connection with Giada or the wives, so you’re luring them in. You’re hoping they take another shot at Thomas? Or Liis? Are you out of your damn mind?” Val seethed.
“Travis,” I said, unable to say anything else.
“I—” he began, but I turned on my heels to find something to clean in the kitchen. The decision had already been made. I could hear him following closely behind. “Baby,” he said. I stopped at the sink, and he grabbed my arm.
“Faking Thomas’s death was enough, don’t you think? Now, you’re intentionally putting us all at risk? What if they don’t go for Thomas? Or Liis? What if they come for you? What if they come for James or Jess?” I seethed.
“They won’t.”
“How do you know, Travis?”
“I … Pidge, please just trust me.”
“How can I trust you if you’re not being honest?” I turned on the sink and then turned it back off, flipping around to face him. “When were you going to tell me? After our house was sprayed with gunfire?”
“No,” he said, stumbling over his words. I hadn’t been angry with him for a long time, and he was unprepared for my reaction. “But I know who their target will be. We just have to find out when, and that should be soon.”
“Your dad lost Thomas once. What do you think it will do to him if he loses him again?”
“He won’t.”
“How do you know?” I yelled, throwing the plate in my hand to the floor. It shattered, prompting Val, Hyde, Thomas, and Liis to rush in.
Travis breathed hard out of his nose. He glanced at Thomas, and then back at me. He was holding back, keeping secrets he didn’t choose to keep. I could see the agony and conflict swirling in his eyes.
“It was my idea,” Thomas blurted out. “It was my way of coming home early and drawing Giada and the wives out at the same time.”
“If something goes wrong,” I began.
“It won’t,” Travis said.
“Don’t” I yelled, closing my eyes, “talk to me.” I glared up at my husband. “Don’t say another word unless it’s the complete truth.”
Travis opened his mouth to speak but then closed it, thinking twice. That only made me angrier, so I turned to grab the broom, hearing Thomas, Liis, and the agents leave the room.
“I love you, Abby. You have to know that. Our family’s safety is my first priority. That’s the truth.” He took the broom and dustpan away from me. The glass scraped against the tile floor as he swept up my mess.
“You know I have your back, but Travis … this is a terrible plan. It feels rushed because Thomas wanted to come home.”
“It’s not rushed, trust me,” he grumbled, bending over to sweep up the glass. “They’ve been working on this since Thomas was well enough to stand.”
“Even Liis?”
“Even Liis.”
“Despite the likelihood of sounding like an insolent child, I’m still going to ask. Why does Liis get to know about these things and I don’t?”
Travis stood, opened the cabinet, and let the glass fall into the trashcan. “She has higher security clearance than you do.”
I frowned. “So now your honesty with your wife is based on security clearance? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
“Baby,” he said, reaching for me.
I stepped back.
He let his arms fall to his sides in frustration. “This is almost over. Can you be patient just a little longer?”
“Then what? You’re lying to me about the next case?”
Travis sighed, walking away from me, and then coming back. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that this is our life. The alternative is worse.”
“Have you even asked them, Travis? Have you asked them to let you go? You’ve served your time. You’ve helped them close one of their biggest cases in the history of the Bureau. Enough. It’s not a life sentence.” Travis stared at me, unable to respond. “You don’t want to leave.”
“I love my job, Pidge. When I think about going back and being a personal trainer or having a nine-to-five in some cubicle, it makes me sick to my stomach.”
“You love your job? More than you love your wife? Your children? Your brothers? Your dad? How many times have you lied to my face? How many times have you put us in danger? I ignored it all because it was part of a deal that would keep you out of prison, but can’t you at least ask?”
“I suddenly realize how Dad must have felt when Mom asked him to quit the police department.”
I arched an eyebrow. “But he did it.”
“She was on her deathbed, Pidge,” he said dismissively.
I reached over to grab his shirt. “If anything happens to our kids because of your need to play cops and robbers, so help me God, Travis.”
“What? You’ll leave? You’re going to leave me because I love my job?”
“That’s not it, and you know it! Don’t you dare twist my words!” Fighting with him was almost an out-of-body experience. We hadn’t argued like this since college.
“I’m not twisting your words! I’m afraid, Pidge. You’ve left me before for a very similar reason.”
“And look. You went and did it anyway. Worked out for you. Now, you’re hoping I’ll keep turning a blind eye, but I won’t. Liis chose this, but we didn’t. I didn’t! I don’t want this for our kids anymore. I don’t want to raise Carter alone while you’re off fighting crime instead of being a father.”
He pointed at the floor. “I’m a good father, Abby.”
“You are. But you’re choosing to keep working a job that takes you away, sometimes for weeks at a time.”
“Okay,” he said, lost in thought. “What if I work out of an office here? In Illinois?”
“Away from the glamorous organized crime unit?”
“I could get transferred. Liis knows people in the Chicago office.”
“No more undercover work?”
“Just regular ol’ investigating.”
I thought about it for a few moments. “After this is over, you promise you’ll put in for a transfer?”
“I promise.”
I nodded slowly, still not sure what my decision was.
Travis walked over to me and wrapped me in his arms, kissing my hair. “Don’t get mad at me. It freaks me the fuck out.”
I pressed my cheek against his chest, wondering if what just happened was compromising or giving in.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
AMERICA
“CAN YOU STIR THE GRAVY for me, baby?” Shepley asked, putting on oven mitts.
With a wooden spoon, I stirred the brown liquid in the pan, turning to smile at Jim, Jack, and Deana. Shepley’s parents had visited Jim every day since the funeral; sometimes, they would stay for dinner, sometimes not. When Shepley wasn’t exhausted after work, we would join them. Tonight, Shepley was making his famous meatloaf, Deana’s recipe—that was, of course, also her late sister’s, Diane’s. Eating was comforting, but especially when the dish reminded him of his wife’s cooking.