Prologue
Prologue
It was a perfect day for a picnic. One of those lazy southwestern days where the sun warms your shoulders as the gentle breeze lulls you to sleep. Ramirez had selected a remote location where the only sound was from a nearby fountain that burbled as plumes of water danced to a synchronized but silent symphony.
A blanket had been carefully smoothed across an even patch of ground. On top he had meticulously arranged a simple but mouth-watering meal. Even Nicoh was happily gnawing on a gargantuan-sized dog bone. Peanut butter-flavored, of course.
Ramirez laughed, tugging on a long strand of my hair as I moaned over the first bite of peanut butter and pickle sandwich he’d made, just for me. It was only after I’d polished off one half and was well into the second I realized he’d been watching me.
“What?” I mumbled, my mouth still partially full as I self-consciously batted the tip of my nose. “Do not tell me I’ve had peanut butter on my face this entire time.” When he chuckled and shook his head, I added, “Okay, you’re awed by my freakish, yet masterful sandwich-eating abilities?”
Once again, he shook his head. “Just trying to decide something.”
Intrigued, I gently placed the sandwich on its wax paper wrapper. “Um…you and your poker buddies aren’t going to start placing bets on how many of these babies I can put away, are you? Because I’ll have you know, I have a very important professional reputation to uphold.”
His voice was quiet when he replied, his eyes searching mine, “I was just wondering if you thought you could ever like me as much as you do those sandwiches.” A smile tugged the corner of his mouth but there was a hint of seriousness in his eyes. And a question.
“Well…” I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, “these are pretty good sandwiches.”
“Uh huh.”
“And you did make them.”
“I did.”
“I suppose…in time…I could like you both equally.”
“Equally, as in fifty-fifty?”
“I might be able to manage that.”
“Oh?”
“There’s just one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t think you can ply me with sandwiches to improve your odds.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He leaned closer, smiling.
I placed a hand firmly on his chest. “I wasn’t done yet.”
“Oh? Sorry. What else?”
“Don’t ever think about sharing your sandwiches with anyone but me.”
“It’s a deal.” Our lips met just as his phone buzzed, causing us both to shift back in surprise.
“Better get that.” I started to reach for the remainder of the sandwich.
Ramirez smiled. “Still aren’t sure about that fifty-fifty, are you?” Before I could answer, he stood and moved a short distance away to take the call.
“What are you looking at?” I grumbled at Nicoh, whose tongue flopped lazily as he zeroed in on my sandwich. Having missed his opportunity, he emitted his own rumble before crossing his paws, continuing his destruction of the monster bone.
Ramirez returned moments later, his happy mood gone.
“What?” I struggled to get out, nearly choking in the process. “What is it?”
“That was my contact with the FBI.”
“Okay…”
“Winslow Clark escaped. Three weeks ago.”
Horror washed over me as I digested the news. “Is he…is he coming to get me?”
He shook his head, looking me straight in the eye. “Worse. They believe he’s already here.”
Couldn’t a peanut butter and pickle sandwich ever just be a peanut butter and pickle sandwich? I groaned as Nicoh engulfed the rest of my half in one noisy bite.
Nope. Life is never that simple.
