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She stood quietly at his elbow. Unlike his relatives, her presence calmed him. The fact she had stood physically close to him all day, unafraid, made his chest puff a bit.
“I’ve got to head into work.” Zach shrugged into his jacket. To Gia he said, “I’ll check on you later.”
Gia stayed silent as she followed Caleb to his car.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean for my response to sound like I wasn’t interested in helping you.”
She sighed. “You don’t have to feel obligated. It’s best if you don’t get involved.”
He opened her door. Watched her slide inside.
Too late.“I’m already involved.”
The truth of that statement hit him like the concussive blast from a grenade. No matter how this ended, walking away from Gia wouldn’t be easy.
He’d text Ryder. Take an extra week off. He could still take over the New York job if Ryder assigned one of the other guys to do the preliminary leg work.
They drove in silence, Gia staring out the window, arms folded tight across her chest. Caleb kept his hand loose on the wheel even as tension coiled tight through him.
She was shutting down. Retreating into herself. Like his mother used to do when life overwhelmed her.
“Tell me about him. This ex.”
Her shoulders sagged. “The smart thing to do would be to leave. I don’t want anyone else paying the price for my mistake.”
A knot formed between his shoulder blades. “What mistake would that be?”
Was she protecting the bastard? His mother had always defended her husband, no matter what he did.
Silence stretched between them, thick and oppressive.
“What’s his name?” he pressed.
“Please, you don’t want to cross him.”
He pulled to the shoulder. Killed the engine.
“What are you doing?” Tension radiated off her.
“His. Name.” Caleb stared her down. Waited as emotions danced across her face like a highlight reel.
Finally, a whisper. “Vincente Garcia.”
He leaned back, studying her closely. “What does Vincente Garcia do for a living?”
“Caleb—”
“Gia, Give me something to work with. You can make this easy, or make it hard, but I will find out what I need to know.”
Her voice cracked. “He owns a nightclub and some restaurants.”
“Where?”
“Miami.”
Caleb narrowed his eyes. Not a lie, but not the whole truth, either.
He started the Jeep. Pulled back onto the road. Shifted to the oncoming lane to pass a horse and its rider on the shoulder. “Is that where you’re from?”