Page 51 of The Rebel King

“No, he’s not, but I don’t want you feeling like you can’t talk to me about him. I know you miss him. I’m sorry the animosity between him and me makes things even more awkward between the two of you.”

He doesn’t speak, but his fingers court mine in the space between us in the car, linking, caressing. “It’s not awkward for me that you and my dad don’t get along because I love you both, but I’ll always choose you.”

He’ll choose you, but he’ll need Dad, too.

I shift, angling my back against the car window so I can see Maxim better.

“I’m not that college kid who couldn’t handle being with you because you were a Cade.”

“I know.” He flicks a quick, searching glance from the road to my face.

“You won’t lose me because you love your father.”

“The problems with my dad predate you and are too complex for an easy fix.” He releases a long sigh. “Or we wouldn’t still be on the outs fifteen years later.”

“Tell me about him,” I say, keeping my face clear of disgust or disdain. “About the parts of him you love.”

He nods after a few moments, eyes fixed ahead on the road. “I was his shadow growing up. I know it sounds ridiculous because I was a kid, but I believed we were best friends. We did everything together.”

“What kinds of things?”

“Fly-fishing, horse riding. He’d take me to the office with him. He taught me to shoot.”

“So I guess, in a roundabout way, I have him to thank for my rescue,” I say wryly. “I was pretty shocked to evenseeyou with a gun, much less able to shoot someone from that distance.”

“Yeah, my dad used to joke that I could shoot the wings off a flea. I’m not anti-guns. I know that probably breaks your little liberal heart.”

“I don’t need you to be anti-guns. I need you to be pro–smart gun laws, and I know you are that.”

“Definitely that. I don’t esteem my right to bear arms over another person’s right to live and not get shot by some idiot with weapons that belong on a battlefield, not in the hands of a civilian.”

“See? We agree, and my liberal heart is safe.”

“Your liberal heart ismine,” he says, tightening his hand around mine. “Does it bother you that I’m possessive and intrusive and protective?”

“Let’s just say I like your growl best in bed.”

He drops his head back into the supple leather of the seat and chuckles. In the silence that follows, I wonder if I should ask him something that’s bothered me since Costa Rica. “Doc, the man you shot…”

“Jackson Keene,” he inserts, his voice hardening, his jaw tightening.

“You know his real name?”

“I planned to discuss what Grim has found today while we had some time together, but yeah. And ‘Abe’ is his brother, Gregory Keene.”

An icy finger traces my spine when I hear the name of the man who almost killed me more than once. “But he’s dead, too, right?” I demand, my voice going a little higher. “They’re both dead.”

“Grim thinks so, yeah.”

“You don’t believe it?”

“I want to see it. I want to see Gregory’s body in a morgue the way I’ve seen his brother’s.”

“Had you ever shot anyone, killed anyone before?”

“Never. Not until then.”

“And have you been… Well, are you okay? How have you been processing it? I should have asked when we first got back, but my head was all over the place. In some ways, I feel like it’s just starting to clear.”

---