“She doesn’t know that I’m leaving, or where I’m going, and I don’t want her to.”
“Roger that,” Monk responded.
Gunner reviewed the logistics of staying on the private island, briefed him on the security systems that would need to be activated, told him which room to stay in, and when he wasn’t sleeping, to make himself scarce while, at the same time, ensuring he knew where Raketa was every minute of every day.
Monk didn’t have a problem with any of it. In fact, he had a lot of thinking to do, and this type of assignment would give him plenty of time to do it.
“PETROV GHOSTED and took everyone with him,” said Gunner, sounding defeated when he called several days later. “He was there one day, and by the time we got there the next, he was long gone.”
“What’s the next step?” Monk asked.
“I’m coming back, but I need you to brief Raketa before I get there.”
Monk took notes, and when he went inside, he handed them to her rather than giving her a verbal briefing. Maybe it wasn’t the right way to do it, but it was likely she preferred it that way. If he were in her shoes, he would’ve.
Before their call ended, Gunner told him he’d be back sometime in the next few days and to expect his text. When he received it, he was to return to the mainland, and Gunner would head back to the island.
From there, Monk was to report directly to Montecito, the town on the Central Coast of California where K19 headquarters were located.
He’d hoped he’d have time to go back to Yachats for at least a couple of days, but it didn’t look as though that was going to happen.
12
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Saylor answered Poppy, who she’d foolishly agreed to meet at one of the downtown bars for happy hour. When she’d stepped inside and saw the place was packed, she almost turned around and left. This so wasn’t her scene. She hadn’t thought it was Poppy’s anymore either.
“Let’s go outside.”
Saylor picked up her glass of wine and followed her friend to the bar’s back patio.
“This is much better.” Poppy motioned to two open chairs. “Can you believe we used to do this every Friday?”
“We did not.”
“I’m pretty sure we did.”
“Your brain is addled. What are you drinking?”
“It’s called a Peach Cobbler. It’s peach moonshine and orange juice. Wanna try it?”
“God, no. How many have you had?”
“Just this one. I’m not exactly the party girl I once was.”
Saylor couldn’t figure out where all these party-every-Friday-night-girl memories were coming from. It certainly wasn’t her that Poppy had gone out with.
“Have you heard from Monk?” her friend asked when the only other two people on the patio went inside.
Saylor shook her head. “I didn’t expect to, though.” He’d been gone two weeks when Razor suddenly left too. “I probably should be spending more time with Ava, but her mother and sister are living here now. I’m sure she’s busy with them.”
Poppy took another sip of her drink. “God, this is good.”
“Order another. I’ll drive you home.”
“Thanks, but I know better. I’ll feel like death tomorrow if I do.” She set the glass down on the table between them. “I’ve rethought my request for you to hook me up with someone who works for Razor. I can’t be the woman who sits around, waiting for her spy-boyfriend to show up once every six months after flitting all over the world, doing God knows what.”
“Are you suggesting I’m that woman?”