"Sophia, I saidno. You will need everyone you can get. They won't be alone, you know that. I may not be an operator, but I'm far from helpless."
She hisses her profound displeasure. "Understood, sir," she snarls. "I disagree with your decision, but I respect it."
His tone is amused. "If I find I need help, I'll ask. You have my word on that. Just…kill Rafael Sousa and Roberto Pugli. Their deaths will ensure my safety. In the meantime, while I may be in danger, I'm finding the experience so far to be…not entirely unpleasant."
"The innocent life, I presume," Inez says, her tone wry.
"Quite."
Inez slides her braid through her fist, flips the end up to examine the place where a bullet took off the last inch or two during the firefight at the club. "Jakob…You're not just my boss. You're my friend. Other than Lorenzo, you've known me the longest. I owe you everything. Please, sir. Stay safe. Stay alive."
Jakob clears his throat. "My, my. An emotional outburst from the great Sophia Bruna Santos de Silva,La Víboraherself. What is this world coming to?" Before Sophia can respond, he sighs, continues. "I tease, my friend. In truth, I'm touched. And amazed. I think you may be a miracle worker, Lorenzo. But a month ago, such a declaration from Inez would have been less likely than winning the lottery, twice."
"I am no miracle worker, Jakob," I say. "She has done the work to face her demons. The credit for her transformation goes entirely to her."
"Transformation may be a bit of an exaggeration," she mutters. "We can stop talking about me at any point."
"I have to go anyway," Jakob says. "I assure you, Sophia, I will be fine."
"Until later, sir."
A pause. "I think at this point, we can dispense with the 'sir.'" Jakob says something that is muffled and inaudible. "I have to go. We'll speak again soon. Hopefully, so you can report that Pugli and Sousa are dead."
"It will be done, sir—Jakob."
"I don't doubt it. Goodbye for now, both of you."
The line goes dead, then.
Inez looks at the phone with a curious expression, then at me. "He's met someone."
"I agree," I say.
"You don't know him like I do," she says. "So you can't understand how strange an idea that is. Until recently, Jakob and I were two peas in a pod. Meaning, cold, distant, isolated, prickly, difficult, and often flat-out mean."
I smirk at her. "Armor, protecting your hearts. I hope for his sake whoever he's with can see through it to whoever the man is, or can be, beneath it."
She frowns thoughtfully. "I hope so, too. I get the sense that he's been that way for far longer than me. He may not know who he is without it."
"Did you?" I ask. "Do you?"
She shrugs, head tipping toward her lifted shoulder. "No. Not really. And I don't know that I would have been able to face everything if I didn't have you, so in a way, youarethe miracle worker he said you are." She exhales sharply, and I sense the conversation is over. "Enough of that, for now. I have to trust Jakob to take care of himself. We have a mission to complete."
11
PDA
INEZ
Ihave a message out to Solomon, asking him to contact me as soon as possible. We keep heading west, and are approaching downtown LA when my phone finally rings.
"Solomon," I say by way of greeting. "Sitrep?"
"Hello to you too, Inez," he answers, his tone amused. "No, no, we're all good, thanks for asking."
A former version of me would have ripped him a new asshole for the sarcastic insolence. "What do you think I mean when I ask for a situation report, Solomon Cabot?"
“Oooh, the full name. Spicy."
