Page 143 of Prodigal Son

Albie stared at the door after she left. Whiskey forgotten. Sketch forgotten – it was uninspired anyway. Everything he’d tried to draw since that night at Pseudonym had been absolute shit anyway. She’d ducked her head at the end, just before she slipped past the window and out of sight. And reached to dab at her eyes.

Like, she’d said.

Something, she’d said.

He conjured the fantasy again, of his flat draped with Christmas lights, filled with music, dancing on the rug in the lounge, the sound of happy laughter. And of her; gold hair flashing, mouth smiling, hands gentle on his face as she leaned in for a kiss. One like before, that one time he’d dared, going deeper, and hotter, and better, and–

He swept his sketchbook off the desk, and it launched across the room, pages fluttering like wings, before it slapped down onto the floor, crumpled.

As useless as everything he’d ever done.

The clock on the wall ticked, ticked, ticked.

Thirty-Nine

Winter in Tennessee was a finicky thing. Some days bitter, throwing sleet at the windows; others mild, and sunny, frost melting, jackets coming off as everyone soaked up the heat.

Today was a warm day, and Fox’s charges were shirtless as they worked through their routine on the pavement of the back car lot at Dartmoor. Pushups, sit-ups, squats, lunges, poses, strikes.

“Good,” he said as he paced behind them. “Again.”

Each of the three of them held an old broom handle they used as a staff, and lunged forward with it, as if striking an invisible opponent.

Reese was the most talented. And the most obedient, too.

Evan was a hopeless disaster.

And Ten…they called him Tenny, or sometimes Emerald, depending on his mood of the day…was as athletic and capable as any assassin, but more and more the Devin Green shone through in him, defiant, cocky, irrepressible.

In some deep dark place he refused to acknowledge, Fox loved this little brother he’d only met a month before. Was proud of him.

And Reese would make an exceptional Lean Dog someday.

Ghost sidled up to him, two steaming mugs in his hands, one of which he passed to Fox. “How goes it?”

Fox accepted the coffee with a murmured thanks, eyes never leaving his charges. “These two” – he pointed to Reese and Tenny – “will be brilliant. This one.” Evan. “God knows.”

Ghost chuckled. “We can’t all be brilliant, Foxy. Sometimes we just do the best we can.”

Fox snorted. “Speak for yourself.”

The president climbed up onto the nearest picnic table and got comfortable. “How’s Eden settling in?”

“Laps, boys!” Fox called, and his recruits went to run it out. He joined Ghost, letting his shoulders finally sag. Acting as drill sergeant tired him in a way he’d never expected. “She’s…” And this was the part that surprised him. Maybe it shouldn’t have. “She’s happy. Likes her flat. Likes being without her mum.”

Ghost snorted.

“Got some clients already. And of course the work you’re sending her way.”

Ghost tipped his head in acknowledgement.

“She’s good.” He turned to look at his president.Hispresident. His bottom rocker read TENNESSEE now. “Thank you, Kenny. I appreciate it.”

Ghost grinned, smug, and leaned back on one hand. “Where would any of us be without the women who make us better, you know?”

Fox shook his head, and let his gaze wander out to the boys, making a wide loop around the broke-down Chevys and Fords inside the fenced lot. But he felt the swoop and dive in his stomach. The giddiness. “Yeah. I know.”

~*~

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