“Preston. How are you doing?” his boss asked as if he only called to make small talk. No, the SAC only called when he needed something, usually help on a case.
“As good as can be, sir. May I ask why the call?”
“Never want to shoot the shit, son?”
“No, sir. I prefer to get straight to the point.”
“Well, I can’t fault you for that. I called because we have a possible new link in the Harposia case. Word of weapons and human trafficking in Georgia are popping up, and we want you and Dylan to help investigate since you’re both familiar with the workings.”
Chills ran down his spine despite the muggy weather outside. Nothi
ng good ever came from a connection to the Harposia cartel.
“What makes you think this is tied to Harposia?”
“I’ll fax over the file to your office, but the dealings are almost identical. We also had a recent arrest in Atlanta that leaked some information. Info we hope is true, which is where you come in.”
“Okay. Can I have a couple of days to think about it? And I’m going to need you to reach out to Dylan. I don’t want to have that pleasure.”
“You have two days to decide on acceptance. Then we’ll meet for a briefing.”
“Okay. Thank you, sir.”
His boss ended the call without another word leaving Preston staring into the darkness of his backyard.
If the FBI had asked Preston last week, he would have jumped at the chance to work undercover. But now, he wasn’t sure he was fully committed.
Could he say no? If he gave up the opportunity to go undercover, would he ever get the chance again? Preston wasn’t sure who he was if the FBI wasn’t a part of his life.
And that thought scared him almost as much as his feelings for Shelly.
***
For a Friday morning, Shelly was surprised to find the park as crowded as it was. She was joining a weekly play date between the Connelly wives and sisters. At first when she was invited Shelly had declined, she didn’t want to intrude on their family time. But Sydney had insisted and threatened her attendance.
Abel gripped her hand as they approached the gathering of people, but then she saw Sydney, Avery, and Poppy nestled under a gazebo chatting. Shelly steered them in that direction and returned a wave from the women as they noticed her approaching.
She apologized for being a little late, but they assured her that it wasn’t a problem and that Nikki was running late as well. Abel’s grip on her hand tightened and she leaned down as he gestured to whisper in her ear. Quietly he asked if he could play with the other kids and Shelly smiled, nodding for him to go ahead.
“Thanks for the invite. Abel has been dying to play with kids close to his age and I can see there are a ton here today.”
“Oh, he’s going to have a great time,” Poppy added, whom Shelly remembered from her vibrant red hair. “We’re so glad you could make it. I packed a cooler of drinks and snacks. Please help yourself.”
Normally another mom making a comment like that would make Shelly feel inadequate and insecure, but coming from Poppy, she just smiled and gratefully accepted a bottle of water. Poppy was one of the kindest women Shelly had ever met, the entire Connelly crew were, but Poppy had a heart of gold and opened the childcare center and preschool in Carson. The woman was prepared for anything.
While keeping a watchful eye on their kids, they chatted about the celebration coming up and caught up with what they had been doing since the last playdate. Nikki joined them a little bit later as their kids rushed toward the pavilion for a snack, then dashed away just as quickly.
Just before noon, Avery and Poppy began gathering their things, explaining that they had to return to work. But as Sydney glanced down at her phone, the women halted their movements. Sydney was as cheerful as they came, but even Shelly could see her body begin to shake in fear.
“Sydney? Is something wrong?” Avery asked as she wrapped an arm around her half-sister.
“No,” she replied gruffly. “I mean, yes, maybe. I don’t know.”
“Well, why don’t you explain what has you so shaken up?” At Poppy’s soothing tone, Sydney relaxed into Avery’s body.
“I’m just being silly and paranoid. Dylan texted that his SAC, Special Agent-in-Charge, reached out to him to see if he could help on a case. He hasn’t been asked to help in a while. I was hoping it was over.”
“What does it mean if he helps?” Shelly asked curiously. She didn’t know much about Dylan’s background, but she remembered he worked with the FBI.