Page 35 of Zero Divergence
“Sadly, no. I was a scrawny kid back then.”
“It’s the thought that counts,” Sawyer said wistfully. “Just so we’re absolutely clear, I would wear The Cockpit uniform for you, if it pleased you.”
“Are you trying to say you’re a better boyfriend than I am?” Royce asked, recalling the tight booty shorts Sawyer had described. They’d make Sawyer’s toned legs look two miles long, and the mesh crop top would show off his ripped abdomen and pecs. Royce was two seconds away from taking him up on his offer when he heard Sawyer chuckling low. He’d nearly fallen for it. “Asshole,” Royce groused.
“Dickhead,” Sawyer returned playfully, as he followed the road deeper into the subdivision. He turned on to a side street, then slowed down as he approached a long driveway that disappeared into the woods. Sawyer sighed, and the mood shifted in the car. Their reprieve from madness was over. They dealt with death every day, and finding healthy ways of coping, such as teasing one another, helped prevent burnout. “My mom thinks Jack Vincenzo is a great man, so he better not prove her wrong.”
Flashing red and blue lights appeared in the distance behind them just as Sawyer turned into the driveway.
“What the fuck?” he asked, stopping the car.
“Those aren’t the right lights for a police vehicle,” Royce said, squinting into the darkness. “Private security?”
Shifting the car into park, Sawyer growled in irritation. “Fucking Mustache Man must’ve called someone.”
It took nearly a minute and a half for the golf cart with emergency lights on top to reach them.
Don’t laugh and make the situation worse. Don’t laugh and make the situation worse. Don’t laugh…Royce caught sight of the glorified mall cop sauntering to their car and couldn’t make it through reciting his edict a third time before his body shook with laughter.
“Damn you, dickhead.” Sawyer cleared his throat and fought back a laugh. “What seems to be the problem?” he asked when the rent-a-cop approached his window.
“My problem is that the two of you took off before Randy could do his job properly,” the man said. His voice held enough twang for four men. He raised his hand to the can of pepper spray on his utility belt.
Sawyer, the voice of calm and reason, pointed at the man and said, “You better have a really sure hand because I will arrest you if you blast me in the face with pepper spray, either accidentally or on purpose. I offered to let Randy call the station to confirm our identities, but he chose to open the gates instead. I don’t see how that’s our problem.”
“You intimidated him,” Mall Cop countered. “Now, I find you turning into Senator Vincenzo’s driveway?”
“You’re out of your mind,” Sawyer countered. “He’s employed to protect the residents in this community—some of the wealthiest in Savannah, by the way—and he can’t remain calm long enough to make a simple phone call to the police station to verify our badges are legit? I call bullshit.”
“You cops are all the same. You think your badge excuses—”
“Shut your mouth, get out your cell phone, and call the station, or I’m going to arrest you for obstruction and have your golf cart towed to the impound lot. Your choice.”
Two minutes later, Mall Cop stomped back to his golf cart after confirming their identities and sped away at fifteen miles per hour.
“Tell me this is all just a weird dream,” Sawyer said, continuing up the driveway.
“I wish.”
Sawyer pulled up in front of the massive house and put his car in park. Royce blew out a whistle as he looked up at the stunning three-story brick house. The strategically placed landscape lighting bathed the first floor in soft light, giving the grand home a welcoming glow in the predawn hour.
“Vincenzo is a former federal prosecutor, right?” Royce asked.
Sawyer nodded. “And Vivian was a criminal defense attorney. They both studied the same laws, but their approaches would’ve been drastically different.” He smiled wryly. “It’s probably why their relationship failed.”
Porchlights suddenly flipped on, the front door opened, and Senator Vincenzo stepped onto the porch wearing sleep pants and a Duke University T-shirt.
“Paul Blart must’ve called him,” Sawyer groused.
Royce was shocked Sawyer even knew that movie since slapstick comedies weren’t his style, but he wasn’t surprised they’d both thought of the white knight on the golf cart as a mall cop. “Yeah, well, the element of surprise is still on our side if he’s not expecting us to notify him about Gross’s death. I bet you a blow job he will lawyer up.”
“I’ll take that bet.” Sawyer killed the engine, released his seat belt, and opened the door.
Royce followed his lead and joined him at the bottom of the porch steps.
Always the statesman, Jack Vincenzo greeted them with the patented politician’s smile, but there was no disguising the worry in his dark eyes.
“Sawyer,” the man said warmly, extending his hand. “I told your parents at the benefit they hosted over the weekend that I was sorry to miss you and hoped to catch up before returning to Atlanta. This wasn’t what I had in mind.”