Page 112 of Wicked Pickle

It’s strange, meeting more of Diesel’s family under such dire circumstances. When I arrive at the coffee shop, I’m glad to already be dressed professionally, with hair and makeup. I straighten my skirt and head inside.

Greta looks very different from the wedding, her polished appearance giving way to a hasty ponytail, jeans, and a faded T-shirt.

Caden, too, seems at the end of his seven-year-old rope, lying down on a cushion in the booth and staring at the ceiling.

“Symphony,” Greta says. “Thank you for meeting me.”

There’s no way this is a trap. She wouldn’t have dragged her son into it.

I pull up a chair to the end of the booth to avoid crowding her or moving Caden. “Are you two okay?”

“We’re all right. Caden’s on a sugar crash after three hot chocolates.”

I glance over at him. There’s a ring of chocolate around his mouth. “That must have been delicious.”

He brushes the back of his hand over his forehead. “My iPad died, and we forgot the charger.”

“Oh! I can help with that.” I open my bag and pull my iPad charger out. “I even have a power brick.”

I pass the items to him, and he eagerly plugs in his device.

“Just keep them,” I tell Greta. “I have others at home.”

“You’ve been very nice to us.” Greta wraps her arms tightly around her middle like she’s cold. “It’s been a long few days.”

“What happened?”

Greta glances over at Caden. “I can’t say a lot right now, but I need to find Dean. Or Merrick. They’re probably together, wherever they are.”

I pull out my phone. “I don’t have a lot to go on. Diesel said the bar was getting shut down, and he and Merrick were going to re-enlist.”

“Oh, no! Do you think they already shipped out?”

I pass her the messages. “He said they were going to do a little R&R first.”

Greta stares at the phone. “That’s what Dad used to call our trips to Florida. Getting R&R.” She passes it back.

“Did you have somewhere specific you would go?”

Her eyes light up. “Yes, always. There was a condo complex on the beach about an hour from here. We rented a place every summer. The name of it started with two Rs. It became a family joke.”

My heart hammers. We might find him! “Diesel told me the reason he and Merrick chose Miami was because of those trips.”

Greta pulls out her phone. “It’s a real long shot, but it’s possible they went there one more time before enlisting again.” She pulls up a condo rental on her phone. “Yes, the Rockin’ Rentals. I can get a ride out there.”

I peer at her screen. “It’s sixty miles. That will be wildly expensive on the chance they’ll be there. Should you call first?”

“There’s no place to call,” she says. “Not these days. The condos are all individually owned Airbnbs now. No telling which one they might be at, and I doubt anyone would tell me who is on the rental.”

“If you ride out there and they’re not there, you have to pay to come all the way back. I doubt there’s anything vacant this time of year.”

Greta sets down her phone. “It’s a chance I have to take. Dean and Merrick are my last my hope before I have to surrender myself back to the Pickles.”

I know what Diesel would want me to do. “I’ll take you. It’s only an hour. I can get stuck in Miami traffic that long any day.”

Greta glances up. “You mean it?”

“Sure.” Although … if it works, I would see Diesel.