Pope said.Evan was asleep again, curled up next to Anna on the sofa. Worthington’s wife—Ronnie—had run to the market despite Pope’s insistence that they wouldn’t be staying.It may have been Anna’s imagination, or simple intuition, but Pope seemed uneasy. The way he kept glancing out the front window, she wondered what kind of trouble he’d gotten himself into back at the Oasis.“Secrets, huh?”“Share and share alike,” Pope said.“Then you won’t mind telling me who you’re running from.”He raised his eyebrows. “Am I that obvious?”Anna shrugged. “To trained eyes, I suppose.”“Then let’s just say I got on the wrong side of a wannabe bad boy with some very nasty friends.”“Let me guess,” Anna said. “Gambling debts?”“Among other things. But the cops are already on to him and I made a promise that I wouldn’t talk to anyone about it. Especially the FBI.”“If it means anything to you, I’m about to be retired.”“A promise is a promise,”
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