Page 31 of The Prodigal

Remington hesitates before plucking another french fry from the container. “He doesn’t keep in touch?”

I shake my head. “He doesn’t even have a name.” I shrug. “I don’t know who he is. My mother won’t speak of him.” Not that she and I have ever had that many heart-to-heart conversations, but still. My birth father is a no-go zone for my mother. Anytime I’ve ever tried to bring him up, she made sure to put a stop to my questions by screaming and crying and blaming me for how her life turned out. Eventually, I stopped asking.

It didn’t matter who my father was; he didn’t want anything to do with me, and that told me all I needed to know. If I was going to survive this life, I was going to do it alone. I didn’t need a great childhood, only a promising future, and that, right now, is enough for me.

Something hard taps my hand, and I realize I closed my eyes.

“Better eat one before I eat them all.”

It’s like he told me he loved me by nudging my hand with the carton of fries. Remington doesn’t do sweet. Willingly offering me a fry is like a freaking proposal, or at least a hug to him.

“Thanks.” I take two because, well, I need them with the way this conversation is going. “Can we, uh, change the subject?”

I don’t know why I’m asking, but talking about my family, or lack thereof, isn’t something I enjoy discussing.

“Sure.”

I choke at the softness of his words.

Sure! He said sure!

Recovering, I swallow quickly and take the opening he’s giving me. He hasn’t left or told me to leave. He saidsure, like he’s okay with us changing the conversation to something else.

Something that I decided last night.

“I want to help you get your revenge.”

Remington

Ican’t breathe.

I swallowed potato down the wrong pipe at her offer. “What do you mean you want to help me with my revenge?” I say as soon as I can speak without coughing up a lung.

Eden folds her legs under her, and I refrain from noticing how her tits jiggle from the motion of the agitator banging against the sides of the washing machine. When I used to wash clothes with Halle, she would always complain that I put too many clothes in the basin, which would cause it to be off-balance.

Just like back then, I don’t give a fuck. I don’t have all day to do laundry. Besides, watching Eden’s tits bounce isn’t all that much of a hardship.

“I thought since you helped me with Gerald, I could help you with your revenge,” she explains, failing to notice that my eyes are not on her face. But the moment only lasts long enough for me to digest her words and for my blood to run cold.

“We aren’t a team, Eden. Nor are we friends.”

“God forbid.” She laughs, not offended in the least. “No one wants to be your friend or partner, Mr. Villain. Rest assured.”

Something stirs inside me, something like a challenge. And that feeling is insane since the last thing I need from this girl is loyalty. But tell that to my dick, which stirs at the thought of knowing her without the barrier of lies between us. “Then what exactly are you suggesting?”

“Gah, for a surgeon’s son, you sure didn’t inherit his brilliant mind.”

I’m not taking the bait. Eden wants me to argue so that this conversation of ours continues past my liking. Non-friends do not sit around and chat while doing laundry—no matter how hot she looks in a tank top and ripped jeans.

“Fine,” she relents after I just sit there, creating tension through the silence. “Since you need me to spell it out for you…” She flashes me a teasing smile I don’t return. She knows I’m no fool, and soon, she’ll learn insulting me—even teasing—comes with consequences. “I can help you. I know a lot—and I mean a lot—about crime. I could help you research. Not only would my savvy research skills help you seek revenge, but it would also help me.”

I’m instantly on alert. “How would helping me benefit you?” I thought she wasn’t aware of Albrecht.

Jumping off the washer, Eden approaches me and grabs a handful of fries. “I want to get into the FBI Academy when I graduate. Helping you find whomever you’re looking for is great field experience.”

I almost laugh. “What gave you the impression that this revenge story is résumé-appropriate? Nothing I plan on doing is legal.” I grin and steal the fries from her hand.

“So?”

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