Becoming Rain: A Novel

The sky is beginning to change color by the time we’re saying our goodbyes, following an afternoon of riding and leisurely grooming the horses, which Alex informed me are both named Felix.

“That was fun. I hope we see you back here again,” Alex says to me, before shooting a pointed look at Luke.

He laughs, reaching around her neck to give her a warm hug. “Next time we’ll bring Licks and her mutant with us.” He moves away to say his goodbyes to Jesse and Gabe, leaving the two of us together, me securing the camera I’ve had out a few times this afternoon, sneaking candid photos of the farm and of Luke. For the case, I tell myself.

“Keep him out of trouble for us, will you?” Her worried eyes settle on Luke’s back.

So, Alex obviously knows something, too. “What kind of trouble can Luke possibly get into at the garage?” I ask as casually as possible.

“I’m not worried about that place. He just . . .” She purses her lips. “He just hasn’t had the best role models in his life. He’s been misguided.”

“By who?”

“By people who love him. I think they do want him to be happy, but the way they’re going about it is wrong.”

“He’s a grown man now. I’m sure he’ll do the right thing. Right?”

“Yes, he will do the right thing. Eventually.” She smiles sadly. Her fingers graze the side of her face again. Almost absently, she whispers, “I wouldn’t be here right now, if it hadn’t been for him.”

I fight the urge to go into cop mode and coax answers out of her, knowing that if Gabe heard me, he’d see right through me. And, if he wants to protect his son by association—as any father would—he’ll warn them that there’s an undercover on Luke and this case will be over.

Alex’s words could mean many things—she wouldn’t be here, at this farm; she wouldn’t be here, with Jesse—but the fact that she touched that horrific scar tells me that it’s more than that.

“Just take care of him for me,” she says with a reluctant smile. “I worry about him. He’s a good guy, with a kind heart.”

A lump forms in my throat. A person needs to be a solid judge of character in my job. I’m an excellent judge of character. I sense that Alex is a genuine person, and that my target did something monumental for her.

“Sure, okay,” I lie. I’m not here to ease her conscience or to take care of Luke.

I’m here to do the exact opposite.

And for the first time, that makes me feel ill.

Which tells me that I’ve broken one of the most basic rules of undercover work: don’t get emotionally attached to your targets. That’s never been an issue for me. I’ve never cared about what I’m setting them up for or what’s going to happen to them once I’ve done my job. They’re all grown-ups, making their own decisions. No one’s forcing their hand.

“Thanks for the cash, man,” I hear Jesse say to Luke, slapping his hand. “It’ll come in handy. We still have a lot of work to do around here.”

“Yeah, like paving your driveway so I don’t kill my car on it.”

“Okay, Princess.”

Luke gives him the finger. “I’ll call you in a week to see how it’s going. Maybe you can drive it in?”

“Drive to Portland?” Jesse’s face screws up. “Fuck that.”

“How are we even friends?” Luke blurts out.

“Because you’re desperate and lonely?”

Luke laughs, reaching forward to give Jesse a guy hug. I hear him murmur, “Miss you, man,” before he climbs into the driver’s seat.

Both Gabe and Jesse smile at me. “Good to meet you, Rain.” Gabe jabs his thumb toward the driver’s side. “Keep that one honest, will you?”

“I’ll try my best,” I say with as much conviction as possible. They all care about him; that much is obvious. Maybe they’ll succeed in convincing him to follow a different way of life. I haven’t proven anything about his current way of life conclusively yet, but it’s looking more and more grim by the day.

Luke’s car kicks up a cloud of dust as he heads down the driveway, honking his horn in farewell.

“So, you and Jesse are flipping cars?”

His smile tells me he’s proud to talk about this. “I take care of the business side of things. You know, finding the right car, talking to the owner and negotiating the price, dealing with the auctioneer. And Jesse . . . well, he’s a whiz in the garage. He can make any car run like new in a quarter of the time it takes most mechanics.” He shrugs. “We each walk away with a good chunk of change and we both love doing it.”

“How many have you sold?”

“Four. I figure one a month is a good side business for now.”

“How entrepreneurial of you,” I tease, but inside I’m beaming that he’s not above earning a legitimate income. “It’s too bad Jesse and you live so far apart.”

“Yeah . . .” Luke slides on his sunglasses and settles back into his seat now that the road has smoothed out a bit. “I don’t really have a lot of friends like Jesse. I mean, I’ve got plenty of people I talk to, but he and I are different. I trust him.”

“You’re so easygoing. I figured you didn’t have trust issues,” I say casually.

He smiles. “I do. Not sure why.”

I’m pretty sure I know why. “I get it. I have my group of girlfriends back home and I kind of stick with them.”

“You must miss them right now. That’s a big move, coming all the way out here.”

“We still text a lot, so it’s not so bad. And everyone’s busy. But, yeah. I do really miss them,” I answer truthfully. “They’re all at our annual girl’s weekend in Loudoun right now. It’s a wine region in D.C.” I missed the last trip too. Sometimes I’m afraid they’re going to blacklist me. “We’re a special group.”

“Nice. And what makes them so special? Tell me about them.”

I can’t tell if he’s truly interested, but we do have a long drive—and while I should be using it to gather information, opening up myself is how I’m going to get him to do the same eventually. Plus, being able to talk about my real friends—Clara’s friends—relaxes me.

So I start listing the ways that we’re all so different and yet our personalities seem to mesh perfectly. How we can be our true selves around each other—strengths, flaws, and all—without fear. We just “get” each other. We praise each other’s successes and call each other on our bullshit. We’re laughing from the moment we say hello until we’re forced to say goodbye.

I finish with, “I don’t know what I’d do without them in my life.”

“You haven’t stopped smiling the entire time that you’ve talked about them. They sound like a lot of fun.” He grins. “Do you have a picture?”

“Not on this phone.” I freeze. Normal people don’t have two phones unless they work, and he knows that Rain doesn’t work. I quickly improvise. “I just got this iPhone a few weeks ago after my last one broke. I need to get it fixed so I can upload everything to Cloud.”

He nods, buying my answer.

Wanting to steer the conversation away from my accidental slip and knowing that I need to be focusing on Luke and not myself, I say, “Speaking of friends—thank you for bringing me out today. They’re all nice people. I really like them.”

“Well, they loved you.” He turns to flash me a smile. Like us approving of each other is a big deal for him. The funny thing is, hearing that makes me happy. I care that they approve of me.

“Have you known them long?”

“Nah, a few years. We’ve just been through a lot together.”

“Alex said sort of the same thing earlier.” I’m not sure how to broach the subject, but I decide morbid curiosity is fair reasoning for anyone. “So . . . that’s a terrible scar on her face.”

He nods in agreement.

“What caused it?”

Luke’s jaw visibly tightens. “It’s a really long story.”

I wait another second before pushing. “It’s a really long drive.”

I know the signs of indecisiveness. Shifty eyes, multiple swallows, licking lips. He’s considering how much he should divulge, if anything. How awkward this three-hour drive will be if he blows me off.

His thumb drums against the gear stick, but otherwise he says nothing. So, I tentatively rest my hand on top of his. With just a moment’s hesitation, his fingers shift and entwine with mine, until my hand is encapsulated and we’re shifting together.

And I tell myself that this doesn’t cross any moral lines. That I’m doing what I need to do to make him talk. That also enjoying the feel of his warmth is no big deal.

“She was married before hooking up with Jesse.” I feel his eyes flash to my face. “The guy was a possessive asshole. Used to slap her around, hurt her. Treat her like shit, generally.”

“She obviously left him.”

“I guess you could call it that. She definitely got away,” he says cryptically.

I think I know where this is heading. “Before or after she hooked up with Jesse?”

“The guy fucking deserved it. It’s not like he was faithful to her. Hell, Pris was screwing him regularly! Jesse risked everything for her. His whole family has. He treats her like a queen.”

I reach for my bottle of water, hoping such a casual act will lessen the tension suddenly growing in the car. “She seems to think you played a big role in her getting away. That she wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

“Uhh . . .” He lets go of the steering wheel to scratch the back of his neck—an embarrassed gesture. “I was just at the right place at the right time.” He pauses, then adds, “And I did the right thing. For once.”

“Did you know her husband?”

“Yeah. My uncle’s business partner. I met him two years ago, when I started hanging out with my uncle more. Thought he was so cool back then, all rich and Daniel Craig–like. He had this really controlled, suave way about him. A Russian James Bond. He’d bring Alex around sometimes. She looked really different back then.” He snorts. “Never in a million years would I have pictured her with a guy like Jesse, shoveling shit and picking hay out of her hair.”

“She seems really happy.” The frequent glances toward Jesse, the small smiles. I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people so in love.

“She is. She got pushed into that other life too young, surrounded by the wrong people. Got trapped.”

Some could say the same is true of Luke, I guess. Not that he’s been forced into this life. Courted into it, perhaps. Shown the glamorous side, the benefits. And frankly, if I step back and let go of my moral compass and my profession, I can see how someone could be blinded by the shiny parts of this life. Especially when it’s someone you trust and feel indebted to leading you down this path. Someone who’s basically your father.

Because even knowing what I know, how many times have I wished that I had the condo, the yacht, the car, for keeps?

“So you knew he was abusive?”

There’s a long pause, where he opens and closes his mouth a few times, but not saying anything. Choosing his words. “I’d see a slap, a harsh word. Figured she was just like the young, rich wives—putting up with it because of the money.” His hand squeezes mine tightly. “But, yeah, I knew.” His voice grows thick with remorse. “And I did nothing. None of us did, except for Jesse. I regret it every day.”

There is no room in my job for emotion. And yet abuse cases are my weak spot. I’ve seen plenty of them and, while I’ve heard all the sound reasoning, I struggle to understand the women who stay, and I abhor the family and friends who suspect abuse but do nothing.

There’s no room for that now, though. I need to coax more out of Luke, not condemn him. “Well, it must have been hard, with him being your uncle’s business partner, right?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “But it wasn’t just that. Viktor Petrov was not a guy you wanted to cross.”

Suddenly, a mess of puzzle pieces snaps together.