Darkness at the Edge of Town (Iris Ballard #2)(81)

“Reggie just threw my hat in the ring. I haven’t got it yet, and even then…” He shrugged.

“No point worrying about it until it happens, Iris,” Grandpa said as we pulled down Joyce’s street.

“I’m not worr—Why—I’m proud of him. He deserves the promotion.” I looked at Luke. “I am proud. I’m not—”

“Uh-huh. Yeah. Right. Keep telling yourself that,” Grandpa said, parking behind Mom’s car. Oh, I wanted to throttle him. “Iris, don’t forget the twelve-pack at your feet. Come on, we’re already late.”



As we all climbed out of the car, me with the beer, I couldn’t look at Luke. Not even when he rounded the car and was right by my side. My grandparents strolled ahead of us up the driveway toward Joyce and Don’s two-story house.

“It’s a long shot I’ll even get it. And even if I do, that doesn’t mean I’ll take it,” Luke said in a low voice.

“Why the hell wouldn’t you? It’s what you’ve been working for all your life. It’s what you wanted more than anything. What’s more important than that? Besides, what’s keeping you here? I’d go.” He suddenly stopped walking. I turned around. “What?”

He stared at me, mouth curled into an angry O. “You…” He closed his eyes to compose himself before opening them again. They’d instead become diamond hard. “You’re right. What the hell is stopping me? What is keeping me here? Thank you, Iris. You’ve just made my decision that much easier.” He shook his head and started past me to the house.

My body momentarily locked in place. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to. I wanted to crawl into a hole like I did two years before when life got to be too much. I didn’t know why I was so panicked in the first place. We already lived hundreds of miles apart. Of course it was only a two-hour flight or five hours by car, two and a half if we met halfway. Spain was across a damn ocean, but there was FaceTime. Phone calls. Email. But it was as if he’d just told me he was dying or something. And he’d acted like I’d spat in his face. At that moment I couldn’t figure out either of our reactions. Or I just couldn’t face either. I barely had any energy to stay awake, forget analyzing deep-seeded fears and contemplating life-altering choices. I was a zombie who had to make it through a party without biting someone. That was all I could do that night. So I compartmentalized all the shit, plastered on a smile, and followed the others through the fence’s gate to the backyard, making sure to stay a few paces behind Luke.



The steaks were already grilling and smelled divine when we entered the small backyard. Joyce strolled out of her house holding a bowl of chips. Mom was nursing a beer at the candlelit table while Don and Khairo stood at the grill, also with beers. Don was the Latino version of my grandfather, just as bald and sporting a goatee for as long as I could remember.

“Sorry we’re a little late,” Grandpa said. All eyes turned our way. Don and Khairo smiled, but the women’s expressions were polar opposites. Joyce’s mouth flopped open and her eyes bugged out, whereas my mother grimaced—whether at me or Luke, I didn’t know. I didn’t care. Joyce and Don Hernandez, meet Luke Hudson. Luke, Joyce and Don,” Grandpa said with no fanfare.

“Hello. Thank you for including me on such short notice,” Luke said.

Joyce rushed over to him, still starstruck and all but licking her chops. “Of course. Of course! Thank you for being here. Oh, my goodness, how is it you’re even more attractive in person? That doesn’t seem scientifically possible.”

“Joyce!” Grandma admonished.

Luke just politely smiled. “I always have enjoyed defying all scientific possibility.”



Don stepped away from the grill and held out his hand to Luke, who shook it. “You’ll have to forgive my wife. Her filter broke back in ’67.”

“I can forgive a beautiful woman almost anything,” Luke said, making Joyce blush. He smiled at her before looking at Mom and Khairo. “Mr. and Mrs. Lange, nice to see you both again. It’s been too long.”

“Agent Hudson,” Khairo said. Mom just looked away. “Want a beer?”

“I’d love one.”

“Make it two,” Grandpa said.

“Uh, here,” I said, finally stepping forward. I gave Don the pack.

“Thanks, Nancy Drew,” Don said.

“Nancy Drew?” Luke asked.

“It’s what we called her when she kept coming into the station every day when she was ten,” Joyce explained.

“And I’ve hated it since I was ten,” I said with a smirk.

“That’s why we keep calling you it, love,” Joyce said with a matching smirk.

“We called her The Bull at the Academy because she was so stubborn and hard, and God forbid you made her see red,” Luke said.

“Better than Don Juan, Donny,” I said to Luke with a half-smile. “He even flirted with the lunch ladies.”

The group, save for Mom, laughed, but Luke’s smile tightened. “In my defense, they were quite attractive for lunch ladies.”

“And are you seeing anyone now?” Joyce asked, as subtle as a sledgehammer.

“Mrs. Hernandez, your husband is right here,” he said fake seriously. Everyone but Mom laughed again. I’d forgotten that he could turn on the charm when needed. It was an act, though. After I saw this performance for the first time at our first commendation ceremony, I called him on his subterfuge. He told me how exhausted it made him, but he knew he had to play the game. The act actually saved my ass more than once when my own mouth got away from me. Beauty and the beast indeed. Diplomacy and politics played a huge role in FBI advancement, and he played the game well. Looking at him that night, surrounded by smiling people with a big grin on his own face, you wouldn’t think he was playing a part. Some part of him did love the attention. That night I was just grateful he was the center of attention and not me.