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Chapter 3
“I’m sending him to you. Make up something you need him for.”
Quinn Foxworth blinked, and frowned at his phone. “What?”
“Fight info’s en route. You’ve got six hours to come up with something. Good luck.”
“What am I supposed—”
He stopped when he realized he was talking to dead air. He lowered the phone, staring at the screen that told him the call had lasted eighteen seconds.
Funny, it seemed shorter.
He turned to his wife, Hayley, who had come out onto the deck with two mugs of coffee and was now looking at him curiously.
“Charlie.”
“Ruh-roh,” she said with exaggeratedly widened eyes as she handed him his coffee.
“Yeah.”
He wrapped his hand around the mug. It was due to rain by this evening, and he’d come out to scan the clouds. The warmth of the coffee was welcome against the chill of the shifting season.
“Dare I ask?” Hayley said after taking a sip from her own morning brew.
“Gavin’s on his way here.”
“Our Gavin? De Marco?” Her brow furrowed. “Do we need him?”
“No.”
“Then why—”
He offered her his phone. “Call Charlie and ask.”
She laughed. “No, thank you. So
