Page 64 of Renegade
Willie Boy drained the glass of booze, groaned as he pushed his large-ass self out of the chair. “My knees are effin’ killing me.”
“Lose the weight,” Greystone said.
“Yeah, I tell myself that every morning, and every day I eat the same crap.”
Greystone washed and dried their glasses, returned the whiskey to the shelf. As he walked to the door, Willie Boy hurried to catch up.
“How ‘bout I work here as manager on duty a few days a week? Maybe fill in for you?”
Greystone could use the free time to work the case. As he eyed his scrappy-looking cousin, Willie Boy prayered his hands. Greystone chuckled. Clearly, his cousin needed this gig.
I’ll give Willie Boy a chance. Isn’t that what Teddy did for me?
“Sure,” Greystone replied.
Willie Boy extended his hand. “God bless you, cousin.”
After shaking his cousin’s clammy hand, Greystone set the restaurant alarm, told Willie Boy to show up the next day for training.
Outside, Willie Boy said, “You don’t have to train me. I pretty much lived here and ran things good. Too good, really.”
“Be here at four o’clock. And clean yourself up.”
Greystone jumped into his ALPHA SUV, drove out. It was after eleven, but he needed to make a stop before he went home. He dialed, put the call on speaker.
“Hey, son,” answered the familiar voice.
“Too late to swing by?” Greystone asked.
“Never,” Sean replied.
“On my way.” Greystone hung up.
Twenty minutes later, he parked in the driveway of the upscale McLean home, punched in the garage code, entered the house, and was hit with the smell of freshly brewed coffee. His gaze jumped to the two people sitting at the kitchen island.
As if he were the king himself, they hurried over and each took their turns hugging him a little too hard and way, way too long. On a laugh, Greystone broke away from the middle-aged woman and kissed her cheek.
“How are you doing?” Evelyn Baker asked.
“How much time do you have?” Greystone replied.
Evelyn glanced over at her long-time husband, Sean Baker. “As long as you need.”
“You always say that,” Greystone said as they moved into the kitchen.
“And we mean it.” Sean pulled three mugs from the cabinet. “Any takers?”
“It’s unleaded,” Evelyn said, before tucking her shoulder-length blonde hair behind her ear.
With three steaming-hot mugs of coffee in hand, they settled at the kitchen table. For as long as Greystone had known them, this is where they had their best conversations. Life-altering decisions were made around that well-worn table.
“How’s the new position?” Greystone asked Sean.
Fifty-six-year-old Sean Baker had recently been promoted to Deputy Director at the FBI.
“I took Peter Hirzog’s job,” Sean replied. “The past week has been one long meeting. I’ve spent a lot of time with Carrera Santini. He’s your cousin, right?”
“Yeah.”
