Page 65 of Code Name: Atticus

“They weren’t horror stories. They were cautionary tales. And they worked, didn’t they? Kept you from making a mistake when you were too young.”

Brenna glanced at her brother, then at me. I shrugged.

“I’m happy for you. I mean that sincerely.” Luke was quiet for a long moment, then he leaned forward and scrunched his eyes at me. “You hurt her, and I’ll kill you. Best friend or not.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

“I mean it, Perry. And if I don’t manage to finish you off, Mom will.”

“Not your dad?”

Luke’s eyes met Brenna’s, and they both laughed.

“Mom’s a better shot than Dad is,” she said, nudging me with her shoulder.

“I love her,” I said, meeting his gaze directly.

“I know you do.”

The waiter returned with the bottle of wine and three new glasses. After Luke took a sip and nodded, he poured some for each of us.

“To my sister and my best friend finally pulling their heads out of their asses.”

“Charming toast,” Brenna muttered, but she was smiling as we clinked glasses.

“So,” Luke said after we’d drunk, “does this mean you’re both in town together? Not separate work things?”

Brenna and I exchanged a quick glance.

“It’s complicated,” she said.

“Complicated how? Wait, is this about that DOJ thing you mentioned?”

“Can’t really discuss it,” I responded on her behalf.

“Which means that when we met for coffee—wait, that was four days ago.”

“I was already here. We just hadn’t figured things out yet. Personally, I mean.”

Luke studied her. “You sure you know what you’ve gotten yourself into, and I don’t mean personally?”

“It’s my investigation.”

“I see.” He turned to me. “I’m going to amend my previous statement. Are you listening?”

I nodded and took another sip of wine.

“You let anything happen to her, and you also die.”

“Without her, life wouldn’t be much worth living,” I said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “But don’t worry, keeping her safe is my top priority.”

The waiter appeared with our entrees, giving us a reprieve from Luke’s words hitting their mark. We’d all ordered different dishes and fell into the familiar routine of sharing bites, arguing about whose was best.

“The duck is clearly superior,” Luke insisted.

“Too rich,” Brenna countered. “My tenderloin has better balance.”

“You both have terrible taste. The lamb is perfect.”