Promises I Made by Michelle Zink

track Cormac, I finally got a lead on his destination through a mutual . . . associate. From there it was a simple matter of looking at the rentals available on the peninsula.”
    â€œYou knew we were coming to Playa Hermosa before we got there.” I didn’t know whether to be freaked out or impressed.
    He nodded. “The house on Camino Jardin was buggedbefore you ever arrived. As you now know, I was your neighbor. When you left, I lost track of you all for a while. Except for Parker, although I do have someone keeping an eye on him in jail.” I barely had time to digest this new piece of information before he continued. “But I had a feeling you’d be back. You and Parker seemed too close for you to leave him behind, and you hadn’t been with Cormac long enough to learn his brand of disloyalty.”
    I heard the note of bitterness, the only real emotion he’d shown during our conversation, in his last sentence.
    I sat down. “What do you mean you have someone keeping an eye on Parker?”
    He reached for his coffee cup but didn’t pick it up. “My former profession means that I usually have acquaintances in jail. I have a friend in County who’s been watching Parker for me.” He finally took a drink of his coffee. “Tough kid.”
    I leaned forward. “Is he okay?”
    Marcus shrugged. “As okay as can be expected. He hasn’t pissed off anyone too important. Not yet, anyway. That’s something.”
    I looked down at the table. I was relieved to have some kind of word about Parker, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about someone watching him, and I definitely didn’t like the idea of someone watching me.
    â€œHow did you know where to find me today?” I asked.
    â€œI’ve had someone watching the Rodriguez and Fairchild houses. A few days ago, my contact informed me that you’d approached your friend—Selena, is it?” Now it was his turnto ask the rhetorical question. Marcus knew Selena’s name and address, and probably a whole lot more about her and Logan. “Once I picked up your trail again, it wasn’t difficult to follow you here.”
    I nodded. “Go back to the part about you and me having the same goals.”
    â€œIt’s simple,” he said. “You want information on Cormac. So do I.”
    â€œWhy?”
    He turned the ceramic coffee cup in his hand. “He was nothing but a street hustler when I met him: stealing wallets, picking pockets, buying merchandise with stolen credit cards and returning his purchases for cash refunds. But he had potential. A lot of it. I saw that right away.”
    â€œWait . . . you trained Cormac? Taught him?”
    He looked up. “I was quite a bit younger then, and I admit that my initial interest in Cormac was . . . romantic.”
    My shock must have shown on my face, because he hurried to correct my mistaken understanding of the situation.
    â€œOh, no!” he laughed. “The attraction was purely one-sided, but who could blame me? He was a fine-looking man.” He took a drink of coffee. “And it didn’t matter that he didn’t return my feelings. He was good. Very, very good. Before long he was moving onto bigger jobs, longer cons. We were a team. I’d never made as much money as I did with him.”
    â€œWhat happened?” I asked, because something obviously had happened.
    â€œHe met your mother.” He glanced up, startled. “I’m sorry. I suppose you don’t think of her that way anymore.”
    â€œI don’t know how I think of her,” I admitted. “It doesn’t matter. Keep going.”
    â€œWell, he met your mother and fell in love, and soon the two of them were hatching their own little schemes.” He shook his head. “Even on the grift, everything comes back to love. And sex.”
    I ignored his final words. The last thing I needed was to think about Cormac having