Page 27 of Code Name: Harbor

“To what, exactly?”

I smile at him. “To trying to figure out if my gut still works.”

“I’m sure it works just fine,” Finn says, reaching over to the bottle of wine and topping up our glasses.

“Can I ask more about your background?” I inquire.

“What do you want to know?” he asks easily, as if he’s a fully open book. I’m sure that’s not true, but I’m going to see what I can get.

“You said you did time in juvie, and I know you lived in a foster group home for a while. Can I ask about your childhood?”

“I don’t mind. It’s what made me who I am today.”

Charming and successful? Or potentially a smuggler?

“I’m all ears,” I say, settling back into my chair and crossing one leg over the other.

“I grew up in Southeast Portland with a single mom, Catherine.” Ah… the boat’s name. I should’ve made that connection from my prior research. “My dad wasn’t part of the picture. She worked three jobs, busted her ass to put food on the table and I never appreciated it enough. I was a punk, out on the streets, getting into trouble and skipping school. By fourteen, I was getting into so much trouble my mother put me in a Portland boys’ home for four months.” He pauses, looks out over the water. “I hated her for it for a very long time.”

“But you knew that everything she did and demanded of you was out of love,” I hazard a guess.

“I realized that eventually, but not in enough time to ever really make it up to her.”

“You said you moved to Seattle after your time in juvenile detention,” I poke around the edges of his life.

“Lived on the street, existed on petty crime for a while until someone took me in and gave me a job.”

“Someone?”

“Jim Price was his name.”

“And the job?”

“Unfortunately, the type that lands you in prison,” he says, his upper lip curling slightly.

“I’m sorry. He doesn’t sound like he was a good role model.”

Finn laughs and shakes his head. “On the contrary, he was. The only person other than my mother who loved me unconditionally. He was like a father to me, and the only person to blame for me landing in prison is myself. I made a stupid mistake.”

I’ve got a million questions. I know his time served was for trafficking in stolen property, which is the biggest reason I think he’s a smuggler. I want to know how someone considers another criminal to be a father figure, and more importantly, how in the hell did he turn his life around?

But I get the sense that Finn is a complicated man with so many layers to his history that I’ll never uncover it in one dinner.

I also know he’s only going to tell me what he feels safe in doing so, and he’ll never divulge anything criminal.

Moreover, I really don’t want that level of information. I don’t want to be in a position of having to turn him in.

Daniel emerges from the cabin, his footsteps causing our heads to swing his way. He’s carrying a silver platter with the first course, which he sets on the table. “Hama Hama oysters on the half shell. I recommend the mignonette with lemon, but my cocktail sauce is to die for as well.”

“Thank you,” I say, setting my wineglass to the side and leaning forward to check out the beautiful display on a bed of crushed ice.

“Do you like oysters?” Finn asks, taking a tiny silver fork from his place setting.

“I love them,” I reply.

I pick up one of the ramekins of mignonette and drizzle it over a large oyster. I spear it with my fork and place it in my mouth. It’s a burst of bright lemon and saltiness, the flesh firm as I chew it. It’s probably the best oyster I’ve ever had in my life and I’m sure it has nothing to do with the oyster and everything to do with this boat and this man and his complicated but compelling story.

“What about your mother?” I ask, sipping my wine to cleanse my palate. “Did you repair the relationship?”