Page 68 of Westin

Lee curled up on the couch, the mug of tea Clint had fixed for her between her hands. She stared out the windows at the snow-covered ground and the heavy clouds, wondering if it might snow again. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d spent a winter in this kind of weather. They didn’t get a lot of snow up in Seattle. Just a hell of a lot of rain.

But, again, it had been a while since she’d spent an entire winter in Seattle.

“Do you have a phone?”

“Why?” Clint asked as he settled in a chair near her with a mug of his own.

“I’d like to call my mother.” Lee glanced at him. “I haven’t talked to her in a while, and if this is my last day on earth…”

“We’re not going to talk like that.”

“Might as well be realistic.”

“What makes you think he’s coming after you?”

“Because I turned him in to our boss in Seattle. If he’s there—which I doubt—he’ll be arrested in a matter of hours. If he isn’t—which I kind of lean toward—he’ll do what he can to protect himself, including finding me, killing me, and covering his ass.”

“You think Will is here in Milsap?”

“I do. I think he’s hanging out with the people he’s been running this drug deal with.”

Clint tilted his head slightly, regarding her over his mug. “Tell me.”

Lee sighed. “Someone who knew about the boxes, the codes, took over the operations of that old cartel leader. I can count on two hands how many people knew that, and most of them are in prison.”

“You think your partner picked up where the cartel left off.”

“I think he used the information we found during that investigation to start the operation again. And I think he was working with Fang and his gang to do it. But not just him.”

“Someone local?”

Lee was quiet for a few minutes, her thoughts spinning in her head. She wasn’t sure how much she wanted to tell Clint. She was afraid if he knew too much, someone would put a target on his back, and she didn’t want that. But she was also afraid it was too late, that all five of these boys already had a target on their backs just by virtue of the fact that they’d helped her.

“I’d like to call my mom. I have a few hatchets that need to be buried, if you know what I mean.”

Clint nodded, reaching into his back pocket before handing over his phone. She held it for a second, looking at the photograph he used as his wallpaper. It was a little girl with pigtails, a big smile on her pretty face. His daughter, she assumed. It made her ache some, this sudden fear bursting through her that she would never know the joys of motherhood. She’d never really spent much time thinking about her future. She wasn’t sure until that moment that she even wanted kids. It was like a punch to the stomach to realize she did but she might not have the chance.

She dialed quickly before she could change her mind.

“Angie Wallace,” the disembodied voice answered after three rings. “How may I help you?”

Lee closed her eyes. She almost couldn’t make herself speak.

“Hello?”

“Mom? It’s Lee.”

“Lee.”

Her voice took on this familiar edge that Lee couldn’t help but bristle at. But she reminded herself that this could be the last time she might speak to her mother, so she made herself stop. Just stop and listen.

“Listen, Mom, I just… I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. I know I never made things easy for you after Dad, and I… Shit!” She rubbed her eyes, sitting up a little taller on the couch, aware of Clint watching her. “I just wanted you to know that I get it. And I’m sorry.”

“Lee?” The edge was gone to her mother’s voice, and now it was filled with concern. “Is everything okay? Where are you?”

“I’m all right, Mom. I’m in Colorado. On a ranch, actually.” She glanced out the windows again. “Do you remember Grandpa’s farm? That pony he taught me how to ride? He’d be proud of me now, Mom. I went riding again the other day, and I remembered everything he taught me.”

“That was a long time ago, Lee.”