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He smiles. “Corrado will meet you downstairs.”
I shoulder my briefcase and leave the office for the bathroom, where I allow myself a nice cry.
21
SHE MAKES ME WORK FOR IT
CORRADO
Two days after dinner, I was certain Michela would come crawling back and begging me for scraps of the ten mil I offered her.
Not even close. It’s been two weeks since Michela and I separated. And here’s the crazy part: the very next Monday, after the weekend we went out, she went looking for jobs without a car and with eight dollars of cash in her pocket that she spent on transport in the city.
Two damn weeks I’ve had people report on her whereabouts. Once her friend Jesse heard I’d secured a four-man security team for her (the four guys who faced the wall), he started asking questions. Since he and his motorcycle club are currently considered cardinals, meaning potential recruits for Order memberships, they aren’t privy to information about me.
In fact, nobody is entitled to information about my personal life, which is why Henry Evans, a man who negotiates for information for a living, could hardly wait to tell me about my wife applying for a job at his firm.
“What did she say?” I ask as soon as Evans picks up the phone.
“She said a lot,” Evans says. “Most of which I found interesting.”
“You talked for a while, then?”
“Mmhm.”
“About what?”
“Various topics.” Evans pauses and clears his throat. “One thing from her application stood out. Her last name.”
Michela is determined to live her miserable existence even when I’m offering her an easy way to make millions. Millions! “I told you we’re still finalizing our marriage papers.”
The principles she lives by make her unforgettable to me. When I proclaimed her my wife, never in ten million years did I think she would refuse my offer or make my life more difficult. The idea was to make my life simpler, better, easier. Instead, it’s anything but.
“She talked about herself a little bit,” Evans says. “Said she’s living with her mom. Funny enough, she never mentioned you.”
“I’m not part of landing a job. Tell me, did you interrogate her?”
Evans is CIA. The business is a cover.
“Didn’t have to. You’d be amazed at the things people say when you offer them a cup of coffee and a genuine conversation.”
I step out of the car parked in front of his building, where I’ve spent the past half hour waiting for Michela to finish her interview so I can offer her a better position: a position as my wife.
“You had coffee with my wife?”
“We did. She is qualified for the position. I’d like her to work for me.”
“My wife will not work for you, Evans.”
“She wants to.”
“I’m coming upstairs.” Evans and I met during military training in places God has forgotten. We became friends, and eventually, I brought him into the Order as one of the Rattles. The Rattle is the tip of the snake’s tail, and in the Order, it means he’s the man inside the government who sounds the alarms when the Order is threatened. He’s the Rattle that shakes the Body and tells the Head it needs to assess potential dangers.
I know what he did with Michela.
He screened her for malicious intent toward me and the Order. That’s not all. Evans is a good-looking man who speaks with a British accent that most American women would find attractive.
Evans growls, “What the fuck are you doing parading a bird around as your wife? You think I can’t tell a scam from the real thing?”
