Gameboard of the Gods (Age of X, #1)(83)

“It’s a hit,” he told her when he called. “Definitely a relative of yours.”

Mae sat on the train, her ego pressed to her ear in voice-only mode. “How close?”

“Twenty-five percent match to you. That’s a grandparent, half sibling, niece or nephew, aunt or uncle.” He paused. “Double first cousins too.”

“I see.” She took a deep breath. “Can you tell which?”

“No, all I can go by is the number of genes that match. Send me some of your immediate family’s stats, and I could get a closer hit.”

Good luck with that. Mae entertained a brief fantasy of stealthily cutting off a lock of her sister’s hair. “I don’t think that’ll be possible.”

“Does it help you at all?”

Did it? Mae didn’t know. The only thing it proved for sure was that Emil had obtained some relative’s hair. Of course, there was still that picture, but that wasn’t hard evidence, no matter the family resemblance. Someone like him could’ve combed through archives of children’s pictures to find a Koskinen likeness.

“It helps,” she told Leo. If nothing else, it showed her the extent to which the Br?dern was willing to go for a pr?torian asset. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

She could sense his discomfort. Their relationship still wasn’t entirely firmed up. “Glad to help.”

“And thanks for not telling Justin…you didn’t, right?”

That brought on a snort of laughter. “If I had, he probably would’ve been at your door this morning demanding answers. This is the kind of mystery he lives for.”

Mae had to concur as they disconnected. She might have been just a conquest, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still try to wheedle information out of her—or anyone else he encountered. Maybe he couldn’t help it, as he’d claimed, but she wasn’t going to take any chances.

Unsurprisingly, the borderlands didn’t have many direct flights, and it took them the better part of the day to reach their destination. When they stepped off their plane, Mae caught her breath. Spring had come to Vancouver, but it was nothing compared to the evening warmth of Mazatlán. The ocean had glowed in the setting sun as their flight had descended, and now, with darkness falling, the twinkling lights of buildings could be seen in the distance, where the bulk of the city sat on a hill.

“This could be a vacation,” Justin mused.

“I’m surprised it doesn’t bring back traumatic flashbacks of Panama.”

“Not as humid. That, and it’s safer.”

“You sure about that?” she asked. She’d been in enough borderlands to know that unsavory elements lurked beneath the surface, those who weren’t quite on board with their new government’s policies.

“There are dissidents,” Justin said in agreement. “In fact, we may run into a few when we go out tomorrow, but it won’t be anything major. Once they have more time to adjust, they’ll be grateful to be in the folds of civilization.”

Near the airport, state-funded light-rail tracks were under construction, promising the efficiency the rest of the country enjoyed. Driverless cars had spread to this region, however, and it was easy enough to catch one into the city. There, she found Justin’s vacation comparison might have been more accurate than she’d realized, seeing as they were staying in a beachside resort.

“SCI’s paying for this?” she asked in disbelief. Mazatlán’s buildings were a mix of new and pre-Decline, and this one was one of the new ones, beautiful and filled with modern luxuries. Yet, as they approached the entrance, she couldn’t help but notice the large number of police and regular military patrolling the streets. That certainly wasn’t something you’d see in a posh resort elsewhere in the RUNA.

“Our tax dollars at work,” Justin told her. “Enjoy it, because tomorrow we’re going to see the dredges of this town.”

They spent the night outside in one of the resort’s many restaurants, enjoying dinner and drinks as a local band strummed guitars. Beyond them stretched an expansive beach that gave way to the darkness of the ocean. Mae could just barely make out the sound of the surf.

Justin, naturally, drank heavily the whole time, but at least he didn’t take anything else, hopefully reducing his odds of an overdose. She didn’t want to find out firsthand if Mazatlán’s medical resources were up to normal Gemman standards. He’d said very little about Windsor, but she’d noticed that aside from his morning stimulant, he hadn’t strayed to anything harder than alcohol.

All this time spent together…the hotels, the meals. Sometimes it felt like a parody of dating. Except no date would constantly be checking out other women. His gaze in particular kept going back to a young, red-haired bartender.

“Go tell her you’re an EA diplomat,” Mae said. “I bet that’ll go over well.”

He snapped his attention back to her. “For someone who claims that’s in the past, you sure can’t seem to let it go. You never let me explain.”

“Is there more to it than you using it to get me into bed?”

“Was that what did it?” he retorted.

“No,” she admitted. It had been his wit, his sexiness. The sense that he was interested in what was within her, rather than just the natural-blond exterior that dazzled so many men. It had even been a little of that bravado, something she apparently couldn’t stay away from. Most of all, it had been a sense of connection. She would never give him the satisfaction of telling him, but sometimes, in the rare moments when they weren’t sparring, she still felt it.