Page 19 of Renegade (The Santini Assassins #2)

As he pumped the hell out of Greystone’s hand, he exclaimed, “Cousin, hey! What a great surprise. You’ve been gone a while. I didn’t even recognize you.”

Greystone broke from Willie Boy’s incessant hand shaking. “You want somethin’ to drink?”

Minutes later, he and his cousin were sitting at a table, a bottle of top-shelf whiskey between them, but only Willie Boy was drinking it.

“Where’ve you been?” Willie Boy asked .

“Gone.”

Willie Boy laughed a little too hard. “Yeah, I know that. Whatcha been doing?”

“Livin’, same as you. Where you been?”

Greystone liked to conserve his words, keep his guard up. He’d learned early on that word vomiting worked to his disadvantage. Making the other guy talk was a power play, something he’d perfected over the years.

“This place was mine—I’d been running it for years—but a fantastic opportunity came along in Las Vegas.” Willie Boy puffed out his chest. “Took advantage of it and had me a big, big win. Now, I’m back and ready to take over. Thanks for filling in.”

Greystone shook his head.

“I’ll dial that back,” Willie Boy said, before wiping his brow with his hand. “I am… er… I wanna pick up a shift.”

Clean yourself up, mutt.

Greystone handed him a napkin and Willie Boy soaked up the perspiration.

“Teddy’s runnin’ the restaurant now.”

“Yeah, so…” Willie Boy shifted in the chair, broke eye contact. “Teddy’s mad at me. We had a misunderstanding. Lulu got in the middle and messed up my relationship with him. We was fine, but now?—”

“Teddy,” was all Greystone said.

Willie Boy nodded like a bobblehead. “Family was everything to us. Do you remember our Saturday night dinners at G-ma and G-pa’s? Those were fun.”

They had been fun, but they were decades ago. He lived in the present and the night was getting away from him.

One of the servers stopped by. “I’m the last,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”

After the waiter left, Greystone stood. “I’m closin’ up. ”

Willie Boy drained the glass of booze, groaned as he pushed his large-ass self out of the chair. “My knees are effin’ killing me.”

“Lose the weight,” Greystone said.

“Yeah, I tell myself that every morning, and every day I eat the same crap.”

Greystone washed and dried their glasses, returned the whiskey to the shelf. As he walked to the door, Willie Boy hurried to catch up.

“How ‘bout I work here as manager on duty a few days a week? Maybe fill in for you?”

Greystone could use the free time to work the case. As he eyed his scrappy-looking cousin, Willie Boy prayered his hands. Greystone chuckled. Clearly, his cousin needed this gig.

I’ll give Willie Boy a chance. Isn’t that what Teddy did for me?

“Sure,” Greystone replied.

Willie Boy extended his hand. “God bless you, cousin.”

After shaking his cousin’s clammy hand, Greystone set the restaurant alarm, told Willie Boy to show up the next day for training.

Outside, Willie Boy said, “You don’t have to train me. I pretty much lived here and ran things good. Too good, really.”

“Be here at four o’clock. And clean yourself up.”

Greystone jumped into his ALPHA SUV, drove out. It was after eleven, but he needed to make a stop before he went home. He dialed, put the call on speaker.

“Hey, son,” answered the familiar voice.

“Too late to swing by?” Greystone asked.

“Never,” Sean replied.

“On my way.” Greystone hung up.

Twenty minutes later, he parked in the driveway of the upscale McLean home, punched in the garage code, entered the house, and was hit with the smell of freshly brewed coffee. His gaze jumped to the two people sitting at the kitchen island .

As if he were the king himself, they hurried over and each took their turns hugging him a little too hard and way, way too long. On a laugh, Greystone broke away from the middle-aged woman and kissed her cheek.

“How are you doing?” Evelyn Baker asked.

“How much time do you have?” Greystone replied.

Evelyn glanced over at her long-time husband, Sean Baker. “As long as you need.”

“You always say that,” Greystone said as they moved into the kitchen.

“And we mean it.” Sean pulled three mugs from the cabinet. “Any takers?”

“It’s unleaded,” Evelyn said, before tucking her shoulder-length blonde hair behind her ear.

With three steaming-hot mugs of coffee in hand, they settled at the kitchen table. For as long as Greystone had known them, this is where they had their best conversations. Life-altering decisions were made around that well-worn table.

“How’s the new position?” Greystone asked Sean.

Fifty-six-year-old Sean Baker had recently been promoted to Deputy Director at the FBI.

“I took Peter Hirzog’s job,” Sean replied. “The past week has been one long meeting. I’ve spent a lot of time with Carrera Santini. He’s your cousin, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you seen him since you’ve been back?”

“No.” Greystone sipped the coffee. “I saw my grandmother tonight.”

“Reconnecting with your family is important,” Evelyn said.

“I’m sittin’ with my family right now,” Greystone argued.

“She helped raise you, right?” Evelyn asked.

He nodded.

“I’d like to meet her,” Evelyn said. “She did a great job.”

The Bakers had always been his biggest fans, but it was he who owed them a debt of gratitude for everything they’d done for him.

“I got your text about needing access to several government buildings,” Evelyn said. “What’s going on?”

Fifty-four-year-old Evelyn Baker was the President’s Chief of Staff. In addition to having the ear of the President, she had his utmost respect.

“Full access without an escort,” Greystone said. “Can you make it happen?”

“Why?” Evelyn pressed him.

Despite their high-level positions and top-secret clearances, Greystone couldn’t discuss his mission. After shaking his head, he made his way to the pantry. There, he found his two favorite boxes of cookies, and sat back down.

“For me and for Caroline Austin,” Greystone continued. “She’s at Langley.”

Lucky for him, Evelyn trusted him completely.

After retrieving her laptop, she sat back down. “If you have your Navy ID with you, I’ll get you access to all the buildings but the White House. For that, I can escort you everywhere, except the President’s residence, which you won’t have access to.”

“Gotcha.”

She inserted her White House ID into the laptop’s side slot. Once she logged in, she asked him for his ID number. Seconds later, she said, “I got you access to everything but the CIA, which you already have.”

“What about Austin?” he asked.

Evelyn got busy on her laptop, but after several seconds said, “I can’t add her without her Agency number.”

It was eleven-forty, but that didn’t stop him from calling her. With phone to ear, he waited. A few rings in, she answered. “Please don’t tell me you’re working. ”

He smiled. “Aren’t you?”

“Well, sure. Yes, of course I am.”

“I’m getting you access to the buildings. Grab your Agency ID.”

After a beat, she said, “Got it.”

“I’m putting you on speaker.” He hit the audio button. “Go.”

“How do I know you aren’t being held at gunpoint?” she asked.

Evelyn smiled. “I like that. She’s smart.”

“I’ll video chat with you.” He hung up, initiated the connection.

She answered. Like in most of their late-night calls, she was sitting in a low-lit room. Seeing her sent that familiar hit of energy powering through him.

“Just like old times,” he said.

“Except you’re not thousands of miles away,” she said. “And you’re not running for your life while being shot at—”

He reversed the camera, and Sean and Evelyn waved at her.

“Oh, hellllo,” she bleated.

He turned the camera back to him.

“Are you for real? Why didn’t you tell me you’re with people? Are those your parents?”

He glanced over at them. “Yeah, they are. ID number.”

She rattled it off.

“All set,” Evelyn replied.

“Our IDs don’t give us full access at Langley,” Caroline said.

“Good point,” Evelyn said. “Give me a minute.”

As Evelyn got busy, Greystone shifted his attention back to Caroline. “You were a no-show at the restaurant.”

“I worked,” she said. “It’s going to take me two or three days to walk the buildings because I don’t want to overlook basements or other out-of-the-way rooms.” She growled.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but working with you was easier than this assignment.

I could manage you, but this is beyond frustrating. ” She released another growl.

He knew exactly what he could do to help calm her.

“Okay, you’re all set,” Evelyn said, snapping him back to reality.

“Please turn the camera around,” Caroline said.

When he did, she said, “Thank you for helping—wait, I recognize you. You’re the President’s Chief of Staff.”

“Hello, Caroline, I’m Evelyn Baker. This is my husband, Sean.”

“Hi, Mr. Baker Thank you for doing this for me, Ms. Baker.”

Greystone turned the camera toward himself. “We’re going together.”

“You’re coming with me?”

“Hell, yeah.”

“I’ll be ready at seven. You can park at the front doors, under the covered entrance. Thanks for doing this, Rambo.”

“Good night, Austin.” He ended the call.

“That was interesting,” Evelyn said.

Sean nodded. “Definitely.”

“What?” Greystone asked.

“We look forward to meeting her,” Evelyn said.

“She’s someone from work,” he said, but he found himself smiling as he grabbed an Oreo for the road.

“Love you,” Evelyn said.

“Thanks, Evelyn,” he replied. “Love you guys.”

As he drove home, his phone rang. It was Caroline.

Invite me over .

He answered. “What’s up?”

“I meant to text you my address, but I called you instead.”

“You miss me.”

“Yeah, right.” Her sarcasm made him chuckle. She gave him her address, then said, “Swing by at six-thirty if you want homemade pancakes. I promised Sydney, and I always make extra.”

“I can swing by now if that’s easier for you.”

“Dream on.” The line went dead.

As he continued toward home, he wondered how much longer he could keep his hands off her.

I give it two days, three tops.