No Fortunate Son (Pike Logan, #7)(125)

They closed into an embrace, the ambassador’s staff running to them. One man tried to break up the joy. Tried to salvage a photo op with the ambassador. I snatched his hand away, bending it backward. He yelped, and that was the end of the official US reunion, the embassy staff aghast at my actions.

Jennifer jabbed me in the gut, hissing, “Don’t be an ass.”

I looked at Kylie and said, “That would be impossible at this stage.” I squeezed Jennifer’s hand and said, “You ended up being a pretty good killer.”

She said, “I had a good teacher.” She turned to me and said, “Someone who knows when to break the trigger. You were right all along.”

I searched her eyes, saying, “You have any doubts? Any regrets about what you were forced to do?”

She gazed at Kylie and said, “None. None at all.”

Nick broke from the embrace and got my attention. He said, “You’re the one she kept talking about, aren’t you? The one she said would come. The predator.”

I said, “I don’t know about that. From what I hear, it was you who kept her alive.”

He looked at her, then back at me. “I put her in danger. It was my fault, and I couldn’t stop the slide once it started.”

I said, “You did just fine.”

“I can’t begin to thank you. I don’t even have the words. I wanted to do what you did, but I had no way. I had nothing. I should have . . . maybe if I’d . . .”

I could see the questions forming in his head. The second-guessing. I had already sized up his mettle days ago and saw my edge. I said, “You miss it? What you did before?”

He kissed Kylie’s forehead, and then my words sank in. He glanced at me, misunderstanding why I was asking. Thinking I was questioning him. Which I was, but not for the reasons he believed.

He said, “Every day. Every single day.”

I handed him a card, saying, “That’s for a company called Grolier Recovery Services. It’s a small archeological firm, but we do some interesting stuff on the side. Give me a call.”

He took it and said, “CIA?”

I laughed and said, “Hell no. I’m not a clown in the circus.”

To my right, I saw Brett scowl, a former Marine but now a paramilitary case officer in the Special Activities Division, assigned to the Taskforce. I winked and said, “Present company excluded, of course.”

Nick started to ask another question, but I said, “Later. When the clownfest here is over.” He was swept away by the embassy personnel, leaving Kylie at my side. She was glowing, watching him walk away, smiling so big it looked like it hurt. She squeezed my waist, sending a literal shiver through me. A reminder of what was right in the world.

Two days later, we were in Charleston, sitting at a picnic table in a bar full of patrons who had no idea of the bad man. Of the evil stalking them right this second, only protected by the thin shield the people at my table held on their behalf.

With the sun warming my face, the entire trip seemed a universe away. If it weren’t for the nasty taste of cinnamon in my mouth, it would be perfect.

Knuckles stood up, shouting for another round, then sat back down. He said, “I wonder what happened to all the Bitcoins?”

“Bitcoins? What the hell is that?”

Retro said, “Internet currency. We paid close to twenty-five million dollars to the terrorists. It just disappeared.”

I remembered the weird computer printout from Seamus, realizing Nung had made a pretty damn good payday. I said, “Don’t know anything about it. That’s Washington shit.”

Retro mumbled something about tracking the coins, then the conversation shifted, Brett laughing at Knuckles for the stitches in his ass. Kylie leaned into my ear.

“I knew you would come for me. I knew it.”

Embarrassed, I said, “Anyone would have. I just had the ability. That’s the hard part. Doing the shooting is easy. You should be thanking your uncle.”

The table noise faded to the background as I focused on her, wanting to give her my full attention. Wanting to keep her engaged and talking. She said, “No. No they wouldn’t. I thought about you every night. I thought about you coming. Not just anyone. You. I lost faith at the end, and believed I was dead. But you came all the same.”

I didn’t want to tell her I’d come for my daughter. Didn’t want to do the introspection of whether I would have rescued her if the history of my world had been different. Not wanting to touch the slimy veneer that she was calling heroism.

Surreptitiously listening in, Jennifer saw the emotion flit across my face and said, “He couldn’t do otherwise.”

Kylie smiled at me, a radiant adoration that made me uncomfortable. I stood up, saying I had to use the bathroom, wanting to get away from the conversation.

When I returned, I saw Jennifer leaning into Kylie’s ear, a deep discussion going on, the two solving the problems of the world. Or so I thought.

I interrupted the conversation just by sitting back down. I saw Kylie’s face and knew I was in trouble. I just didn’t know why.

She lasered into me, like she was about to clear the air of a terrible injustice, and said, “What did you tell Jennifer in the police van?”

Jennifer gasped, her eyes flying open, her expression mortified at Kylie’s breach of trust. Knuckles saw the reaction, looking confused.