“Nah,” Callum said. “The new guy was just making sure you all aren’t using slave labor to pick these.” He dropped a peach into his basket.
Gregor nodded in understanding. “Yeah, my dad doesn’t need to buy slaves. That’s what he had children for.” He gave Callum’s shoulder a playful nudge. “And if that doesn’t make you want to join our family, nothing will.”
Callum grunted and moved to another branch.
“They’ll find your parents,” Gregor assured him, the teasing gone from his voice. “The Slavery Recovery Department is always slow. Your case is probably still sitting in someone’s email behind twenty other cases. But as soon as they get to it, your parents will be on their way to the clinic, and you’ll be left with nothing but a scar and an aversion to peaches to remind you of your time with us.”
Callum nodded, and despite the determined press of his lips, his eyes grew wet. He tromped over to the crate to empty his basket.
Gregor watched him go. “Poor kid. We told him if something happened to his parents, we’d adopt him, but a life of farm work isn’t much of a consolation.” His gaze flicked to Enzo, and he cleared his throat. “Not that I’m saying this isn’t a good life. It is. Sunshine and orchards beat an office any day. I’m sure you’ll learn to love it, or at least…” his voice drifted off as though he’dsaid more than he’d intended. “I’ll stop yammering and let you get back to work.”
He strode off toward the crates, hefted a couple into his arms, and took them to a truck.
Enzo probably didn’t need to pick his assigned peaches since he’d undoubtedly be fired as soon as he saw Ben again. He picked the fruit anyway, then headed to the bunkhouses to face the music.
This would be another botched mission to add to his suddenly growing list. His superiors were going to be furious, and no doubt send him off for a stint fighting breakaway soldiers.
When Enzo reached the bunkhouses, he saw Ben and Milo loading a pile of boxes into a trailer. Milo carried things one-handed so as not to put much pressure on his healing hand.
Best just to get this over with. Enzo marched over to them, his hands shoved in his pockets. “I talked to Callum, and he corroborated your story.” Corroborated. He shouldn’t have used that word. It was police lingo, not something a data entry clerk would say. He hurried on, hoping they didn’t notice his mistake. “I’m sorry for everything, but when I saw the collar … no one warned me about the kid’s situation. So of course, I assumed?—”
“It’s okay,” Ben said.
Milo huffed and flicked his hand in Enzo’s direction. “That’s not nearly the profuse apology he promised us. I think he should grovel for a few more minutes.”
“He meant well,” Ben said.
Milo tossed a bag onto the trailer. “Enzo should at least show us how sorry he is by doing my jobs for the next week.”
Ben wedged the bag next to some boxes. “I’m sure he’ll have his hands full with his own work.”
Enzo’s head snapped up. “You’re not firing me?”
“You wanted to help Callum,” Ben said, “and I believe in second chances. My thoughts on third chances aren’t as generous. In the future, if you have an issue, talk to me instead of trying to break into my safe.” He gestured to the pile. “Now you can help load these.”
Without further comment, Enzo picked up a box and hauled it into the trailer.
He couldn’t afford to make another mistake.
10
Charity stood in the kitchen with her mother and Zia, packing things and analyzing her first meeting with Enzo. He was handsome, charming, and had said she was beautiful. He either liked her or was trying to have an in with the boss’s daughter. She occasionally ran into people who wanted to be her friend because they thought she’d be able to influence her father to get them easier jobs or more days off.
Enzo wouldn’t be like that, would he?
Milo and Gregor strolled in. “Family meeting,” Milo said and locked the door behind him.
Her mother’s head snapped up. “What’s wrong? Where’s your father?”
Milo leaned against the counter next to Charity. “Bonding with Enzo while they load trailers, but the rest of you need to know some details about him.”
Details. Something bad. Charity’s hands tightened around the dishcloths she was holding. Her imagination spun through possibilities. He was already married. He had three children. He’d come from prison…
She hadn’t expected the story Milo then relayed. When her brother finished, she said, “It’s sweet that Enzo wanted to rescue Callum. Rash but sweet.” And not bad news at all. Enzo was willing to risk his own safety to help the oppressed.
Milo sent her a look to tell her she was missing the point. “How did he plan to get a captive away from an entire harvesting co-op? He believed he could retrieve Callum from the clutches of a dozen complicit bystanders, steal a truck, and drive off with the kid. Who has that kind of skill set? The only people I can think of are criminal mercenaries or military. Either is bad news.”
“Maybe he’s just stupid,” Gregor said.