First,Jacesaved me from the bad date.Thenfrom the purse snatcher.Thenfrom the football, and if the dog had been an actual threat,I’msure he would’ve protected me from that, too, without even having consciously thought about it.Thisguy’s protection instincts are top-notch.
CHAPTER12
THE SWINGING SASQUATCH
JACE
Thesun is getting lower in the sky asIwalk withMackenzieacross the open field of grass between where we ate dinner at one end of the park and the mini golf course at the opposite end.It’llprobably set in thirty minutes and be fully dark an hour after that.Thatmeans we’ve got about ten more minutes before we’ll be all but blinded when looking west, which will make us vulnerable from that direction.
Atleast we won’t be contending with any weather.AsmyGrandmaLancasterused to say, “It’sso beautiful out that even the birds are tweeting about it.”
Inmy earpiece,Charliesays, “Youshould hold her hand.”
Iglance atMackenziebeforeIget a chance to think better of it.Myjaw clenches atCharlie’ssuggestion, even knowing that my sister can’t see the action through the camera in the top button of my shirt or from theCCTVcameras mounted to the light posts around the park.
“Comeon,”Charliesays. “Iknow you want to.Isaw the vibes you both were giving off when you leaned in to look at her phone.”
Igrowl softly enough thatIknowMackenziewon’t hear.Iknow my mic will pick it up, though.
BecauseCharliehas been my sister all twenty-four years of her life, and because she’s been my handler for the past two years, she has a good sense of whatI’mthinking at any given time.Idon’t even need to say any words andCharlieresponds with, “You’reright.Younever let things get personal.I’mtalking to a professional,” echoing my words from the courtyard of the outdoor mall.
Thisis not my first fake relationship.Thisis not new ground to me.Usually, though, ifI’mfaking a relationship with someone, it’s either becauseIneed to get information out of them or because we determined in a meeting at theCSAthat cozying up to a potential asset will be the best method.It’snever becauseI’mtrying to protect someone.
I’mnot sure howIfeel about all of it right now.Especiallybecause it doesn’t takeAttractionandPersuasionTechniquestraining to sense the sparks that were igniting betweenMackenzieand me whenIleaned in to look at her phone.Or, really, during any of the timesI’vespent with her.Ijust feel drawn to her like a code-breaker to a cipher.
Thismight not be my first fake relationship, but it is my first fake relationship that has started to feel all too real.Andthat isdefinitelynew ground for me.WhydidInot listen toCharlieandLedgerat the outdoor mall?Andhow in the world did they manage to guess that it would become a problem for me whenIcouldn’t have even guessed myself?
Inmy earpiece,Charliesays, “Iknow you are hoping to draw the buyer out so this can all get wrapped up quickly, butI’vebeen searching, andIsee no signs of any threat actors here.”
Inmost cases, it’s best to resolve a situation as early and quickly as possible.ButIam relieved that no one here is afterMackenzie.Wehad far too many unknowns coming into tonight’s mission that we hadn’t adequately prepared for.Ican’t exactly have my head on a swivel and appear inconspicuous.Butmy own roving eyes have caught no signs of the buyer or their agents, either.
Wewalk through the opening in the waist-high fence that surrounds theCottonCandyGreensmini golf course, where everything is outside, including the counter to check in.Whenwe reach the counter, a lanky teenager wearing a light blue polo, khaki shorts, and a name tag that readsElliottis straightening the short pencils in the box.Hissand-colored hair looks like mine did as a ten-year-old— completely untamable.Butthe kid’s got a good, solid grin, so he has that going for him.
Anotherteen, also wearing a light blue polo and khaki shorts, is manning a shaved ice and drink station to our right.Herdark braids are covering part of her name tag, but from whatIcan see, she’sPiper.OrpossiblyPippen.Nope, it’sPiper.
Threegroups of golfers are already on the course— a young couple with a son who looks about four and a daughter who’s probably two, a couple in their early twenties, and a group of four elderly ladies.I’mguessing the group of four elderly men sitting at the picnic tables near the exit, sipping ginger ales, are their significant others.Nobodyhere looks threatening.
AlthoughI’mnot convinced it was wise to give the two-year-old her own golf club.
There’sexactly one exit, but the fence is only waist-high, so really, everywhere is an exit.That’sgood.
Elliottaps on a tablet and then holds the card reader on it out for me to pay.Iuse my own card since none of my agency-issued cards have my real name on them.Idon’t wantMackenzieto see the namesJasonLangstonorJackLawsonand ask questions.Elliottputs a bucket of balls on the counter and tells us each to pick a color.
Mackenziepeeks into the bucket, then grabs aPeptoBismolpink one and holds it up, grinning. “Ibroke my arm falling out of a tree whenIwas ten, and my cast was this color.”
“Ahh.Isee we are choosing colors based on memorable childhood experiences.”Ilook into the bucket, and instead of choosing the royal blue one thatImight have,Ichoose a sickly green-colored one. “Thesummer between third and fourth grade,Iwas on a soccer team and our jerseys were this color.Welost every single game.”
“Becauseyour jerseys made you so depressed that you couldn’t play well?Ordid it do some kind of damage to your eyes when you were wearing them?”
Ichuckle. “Probablyboth.”
Weeach grab golf clubs and walk toward the first hole.Theentire course looks like a miniature town carnival—Ispot a roller coaster, aFerriswheel, a carousel, and is that a tunnel of love?Thisfirst one, though, is the bumper cars.Adozen colorful vehicles, each about the size of half a cantaloupe, are all moving erratically.Likethey’re excitedChihuahuason five-inch leashes.Andall are between the tee-off and the hole at the end.
Imotion forMackenzieto go first, and as she’s placing her pink ball on the mark,Isurveil the area again.Thefamily with the two small kids is about three holes ahead of us.Theyoung couple is a couple of holes ahead of them.Theolder ladies are whooping it up at hole 8— the tunnel of love.Sowe’ve got some space.Idon’t see anyone suspicious in the park or in the parking lot outside of the course, either.
Mackenzieturns to me. “Howgood are you at mini golf?BecauseIneed to know ifIshould bring myA-game to beat you orI’llbe fine with myBorCgame.”
Ismile. “Youmight have to bring thatA-game.Youshould know thatIscored the lowest out of every single person in my group”—Idrag out each of the last few words for emphasis, then add— “when my class went for a field trip in the fourth grade.”