Page 50 of Pay the Piper

“Cocoa! Cocoa! Cocoa!”

“Crazy footwork, man. You must have a history on Broadway.”

“Charisma for days, Cocoa. I gotta keep my wife away from you.”

“You’re on the team for life, bro. I don’t care if you can skate or not. You gotta bring that show on the road with us.”

“Almost too much eye contact, you intense motherfucker. But you sold it. And throwing the candy was a nice touch.”

As the team congratulates me on my win, which was a bigger deal than I realized, based on the trophy having my name engraved on the winner’s list as we speak, I feel…content. Dancing to what Thatcher called “Christina Aguilera’s best song about candy” while wearing a sparkly pool float wasn’t what I expected today, but it was a surprisingly good time. My commitment to the bit and, as Pretzel said, copious amounts of eye contact seemed to win over the audience, although I suspect Thatcher’s onstage antics helped, too.

By the time I’ve divested myself of my narwhal and most of the team has left for the day, all that’s on my mind is Abby. The way she said she’d see me at home tonight after she finished at the library, like it was a given that she was coming over, made me feel slightly less creepy for already buying duplicates of everything in her toiletry bag. Hopefully, she’ll just never leave.

“Hey, did Teddy text you?” Thatcher bursts back into the locker room from the bathroom, looking flushed. His chest heaves, and his…nipples are red?

“What the hell were you doing?” If this little cinnamon roll is running around on my best friend, I swear to God…

“I was on FaceTime with Mila, but it’s good to know you’re keeping such a close eye on me.” His joke doesn’t reach his eyes, and I check my phone to find that I do, in fact, have a message from Teddy. And a call. And a call from Gabri.

“Mine says to meet them at the Santoris’ place and to bring you. Give me your keys and—”

His blinding smile reminds me that Teddy brought him to practice today, and that means…

“I’m king of the world!”

Thatcher is just as chaotic of a backpack as I was afraid he would be, and even with the spare helmet he “just happened” to have at the rink, he’s flailing about a little too recklessly for my taste. Once I finally let him on the bike with me, not a day has gone by that he hasn’t begged to ride. Tapping his knee, I key the comms and tell him to be a little more careful, which he immediately takes as an invitation to hang onto my waist like a spider monkey. It’s not worth the fight to tell him that he doesn’t have to hold me that tightly, and before long, we’re at the Santori house.

Ellie isn’t here, and I don’t see her nonna or mom anywhere either. There are a large number of men in the house, both Santori and Taranov, and the increased security I noticed as soon as we rode into the neighborhood begins to make a little more sense.

Something’s going on.

We’re shown to Don Santori’s office, and Dante is behind his desk reading over a sheath of documents as we enter. Teddy’s on the couch cleaning his glasses with a cloth, and Thatcher waves at Dante before plopping down next to Teddy and pulling out a protein bar to snack on. Gabri and Nikki are here already, and the family resemblance to their dad is uncanny.

It must be nice to have a strong family unit like this to fall back on when times are hard. Mila has always been my only family, but as we’ve been grafted into the Santori clan, it’s become clear that there’s more love for both of us to give. If Abby trusts me, I’ll keep her safe. We can have our own brood, hopefully looking like her. Maybe one little girl will have dark curls or gray eyes…

“Thank you all for coming immediately. I hope you know I wouldn’t have pulled you away from your busy lives unless it was necessary.”

A large painting to the side of his desk transforms into a screen, and he quickly but thoroughly runs through a series of recent incidents.

“As you all know, we’ve been heavily involved over the last year in Canada, working to eradicate a particularly heinous trafficking ring.”

I’ve been aware of this arm of the Santoris’ business since Teddy joined their family. Similarly to how we operate, they funnel resources obtained through illegal or immoral means into doing good in the world. It’s certainly the most satisfying part of the gig, even if I’m under no illusions that it makes any of us good people.

“We’ve been as aggressive as possible, and although we believe we’re making real strides in preventing their leader from re-election as mayor, in the past month or so, we’ve run into problems.”

Dante gestures to Gabri, who takes over the presentation, looking graver than usual, which I didn’t think was possible.

“Our last three extraction attempts have been sabotaged. The men we sent in undercover have been killed, and each of the rescue groups sustained heavy losses. After the last failure, we analyzed the operations individually and in sequence, and we’ve determined the likelihood we have a mole to be almost one hundred percent.”

“Not just a mole,” Dante continues, “but one who has access specifically to these operational details. Somewhere, key pieces of the puzzle are being leaked to the Canadians.”

The men dissolve into discussions of who might be passing information outside the organization, explaining that it’s less likely to be a cybersecurity issue given the specific information provided. Some of it was never written down, yet the Canadians have access.

“We’ve called you all here today to ensure that none of you have anyone who has popped up into your life recently, nobody new or unaccounted for. While we comb our way through our ranks, we’d also like to make sure there isn’t anyone else who needs to be vetted.”

I’ve already vetted my woman, thanks. And I’m sure the Santori family has already dug through Abby’s background too, since she’s a new friend of Ellie. One of the men says his daughter has a new boyfriend, and Dante and Gabri immediately latch onto him for more information. Nikki looks troubled, as if his body is here, but his mind and spirit are a million miles away, and Teddy has bags under his eyes.

“Misha, we were hoping you could help with a Russian-speaking fellow we’ve discovered. He joined a few weeks ago, flaked almost immediately on a throwaway assignment, and tried to rob one of the dummy safes we keep in the barracks to test recruits. We didn’t know he was Russian when we brought him in, but now he refuses to speak English. Mind giving it a go?”