weighed him down and frequently upset his stomach. The coffee at headquarters was enough of an assault on his innards.
“Chicken and broccoli? I didn’t even know you could get broccoli on pizza.”
“Better for you than pepperoni.” Ivan stifled a groan. Nothing like sounding like a preacher or a parent to get a kid’s back up. But Parker looked intrigued more than stubborn.
“Yeah?”
“Want to try some?” He flipped the box around so the opening faced Parker.
With a shy smile, Parker reached in and grabbed a slice. This guy was a great fucking actor. He’d even be able to fool Ivan’s mom, and she had a lower tolerance for bullshitters than any cop Ivan had ever come across. Of course, being a high school teacher probably explained that.
The reminder of his mom made him groan. He forgot to call her before he came here. Missing family dinners happened, but missing them without notice was completely out of the question. He’d have to find time to sneak away and let her know before Sunday.
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing, just remembered a phone call I have to make.”
“You can use the phone here.” Parker pointed at the small table beside the couch.
“No, thanks, it’s got to do with… uh… my divorce, and I don’t want to think about it right now.”
Parker didn’t answer, just took a bite and chewed. The sympathetic smile he gave Ivan, complete with a tiny streak of tomato sauce at the corner of his lips, made Ivan want to confess everything. When the hell had undercover become so damned hard? Was it Parker? The guy could easily be a fucking model, but he had the temperament of an eager puppy. This kid had to be a sociopath putting on an act for him, otherwise he was not only the stupidest criminal going, but Razhin was going to grind him into dust before taking over whatever operation he’d managed to build for himself.
He had to remind himself he was an impoverished divorced man, and Parker was a naïve university student. Those were the parts they’d both chosen to play, and they’d do this dance for as long as it took. Ivan at least had the advantage of knowing Parker had to be putting on an act, while Parker had no reason to suspect Ivan was acting right back.
Ivan grabbed his own slice of pizza. “Like it?”
“Can I share yours? I’ll put the other in the fridge. For… uh, for later.”
“Sure thing.”
They munched in silence for a few moments. It was like the most uncomfortable date ever, with absolutely no prospect of getting laid at the end of it. Too bad all his opening conversational gambits could easily spook someone with something to hide. In fact, anything that resembled an interrogation wouldn’t be roommate-like. This was by far the most unusual undercover operation he’d been on.
“Did you have any furniture to move in? We can make room.”
Ivan resisted the urge to take his thumb to Parker’s face to swipe off the tomato sauce that lingered. “No, nothing really. I’ve got a few things in a friend’s garage, which I’ll grab in the next day or so, but what the wife didn’t take, I didn’t much want.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. Are you okay? Do you have kids? Or would you rather not talk about it? Aside from a few people’s parents, I don’t know anyone who’s been divorced.”
“No kids.” Thank Christ he didn’t have to fake that. “I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.” Less talking about his cover meant fewer opportunities for the lies to bite him on the ass.
How did this kid fake that wounded look? Forget the reefer, this kid could con grandmas out of their life savings with a few blinks of his thickly lashed eyelids. “Just the divorce. And my wife. We can talk about other things.”
With those few words, the wattage returned to Parker’s smile. Damn him and damn Martelli and damn the fucking mole responsible for this all.
Parker pointed at the TV with a half-eaten slice. “This is the type of music you listen
“Chicken and broccoli? I didn’t even know you could get broccoli on pizza.”
“Better for you than pepperoni.” Ivan stifled a groan. Nothing like sounding like a preacher or a parent to get a kid’s back up. But Parker looked intrigued more than stubborn.
“Yeah?”
“Want to try some?” He flipped the box around so the opening faced Parker.
With a shy smile, Parker reached in and grabbed a slice. This guy was a great fucking actor. He’d even be able to fool Ivan’s mom, and she had a lower tolerance for bullshitters than any cop Ivan had ever come across. Of course, being a high school teacher probably explained that.
The reminder of his mom made him groan. He forgot to call her before he came here. Missing family dinners happened, but missing them without notice was completely out of the question. He’d have to find time to sneak away and let her know before Sunday.
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing, just remembered a phone call I have to make.”
“You can use the phone here.” Parker pointed at the small table beside the couch.
“No, thanks, it’s got to do with… uh… my divorce, and I don’t want to think about it right now.”
Parker didn’t answer, just took a bite and chewed. The sympathetic smile he gave Ivan, complete with a tiny streak of tomato sauce at the corner of his lips, made Ivan want to confess everything. When the hell had undercover become so damned hard? Was it Parker? The guy could easily be a fucking model, but he had the temperament of an eager puppy. This kid had to be a sociopath putting on an act for him, otherwise he was not only the stupidest criminal going, but Razhin was going to grind him into dust before taking over whatever operation he’d managed to build for himself.
He had to remind himself he was an impoverished divorced man, and Parker was a naïve university student. Those were the parts they’d both chosen to play, and they’d do this dance for as long as it took. Ivan at least had the advantage of knowing Parker had to be putting on an act, while Parker had no reason to suspect Ivan was acting right back.
Ivan grabbed his own slice of pizza. “Like it?”
“Can I share yours? I’ll put the other in the fridge. For… uh, for later.”
“Sure thing.”
They munched in silence for a few moments. It was like the most uncomfortable date ever, with absolutely no prospect of getting laid at the end of it. Too bad all his opening conversational gambits could easily spook someone with something to hide. In fact, anything that resembled an interrogation wouldn’t be roommate-like. This was by far the most unusual undercover operation he’d been on.
“Did you have any furniture to move in? We can make room.”
Ivan resisted the urge to take his thumb to Parker’s face to swipe off the tomato sauce that lingered. “No, nothing really. I’ve got a few things in a friend’s garage, which I’ll grab in the next day or so, but what the wife didn’t take, I didn’t much want.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. Are you okay? Do you have kids? Or would you rather not talk about it? Aside from a few people’s parents, I don’t know anyone who’s been divorced.”
“No kids.” Thank Christ he didn’t have to fake that. “I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.” Less talking about his cover meant fewer opportunities for the lies to bite him on the ass.
How did this kid fake that wounded look? Forget the reefer, this kid could con grandmas out of their life savings with a few blinks of his thickly lashed eyelids. “Just the divorce. And my wife. We can talk about other things.”
With those few words, the wattage returned to Parker’s smile. Damn him and damn Martelli and damn the fucking mole responsible for this all.
Parker pointed at the TV with a half-eaten slice. “This is the type of music you listen
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