Page 11 of Prodigal Son

Devin grinned. “I was just Nine until I got out. I got my name off a headstone, forged the paperwork I needed. The rest you know.”

Eden’s expression was pinched. “You were raised by the military?” She sounded skeptical.

Fox was skepticalas fuck. Mainly because his father was such a beautiful liar.

But also…it made sense. In the way that everyone insane made sense when it came to the man.

Devin said, “Oh no, the military never knew we existed. Not at large, anyway. This was a very small group of retired officers and researchers. Some doctors. Special government program, the kind that doesn’t exist on paper.”

“Right,” Eden said, tone more confident than her expression.

Silence reigned a long moment. There was a clock somewhere, because Fox could hear it ticking.

“You really are an assassin,” Fox said after a while. “For real.”

Devin smiled. “A good one, too.”

“Fuck.”

“Okay,” Eden said, shaking her head, getting back on track. “Let’s say all of that’s true.”

Devin’s brows tucked down, clearly offended.

“Let’s say it is,” she continued. “What’s that got to do with Pseudonym?”

Devin stood. “You’ve got your video, I’ve got mine. Hold on.”

After he left the room, Fox turned sideways on the couch and found Eden doing the same thing, her dark eyes saucer-wide, and excitement-bright.

“Is he serious?” she asked. “Or is this another lie?”

“He’s serious. I think.” He shrugged when her gaze narrowed. “He generally saves his biggest, stupidest lies for the women he’s trying to shag. He mostly tells me the truth.” Even when a lie would have been kinder to a heartbroken child who wanted to spend time with his daddy. But that was neither here nor there.

Eden sighed. “This was just supposed to be an easy case. Lord.” She glanced away, slumping back deeper into the couch, some of the real her bleeding through the professional façade.

Fox diverted his gaze before he became enraptured.

Devin returned carrying an open laptop that he set on the coffee table, facing the two of them. A video was already pulled up, paused and waiting. “This is from one of the security cameras at my old flat.” He clicked Play and the grainy footage came to life.

“The camera was on top of the fridge,” Devin explained, and Fox could tell, the way it was just above eye-level. It provided a clear view of the front door, which swung open to reveal three men dressed in black tac gear, the dark shapes of rifles visible in their hands.

“Wellthosearen’t bobbies,” Eden said. “Where were you at the time?”

“At the pub. I saw ‘em skulking around a few weeks before, so I installed the cameras.”

On the screen, the operatives, whoever they were, swept through the lounge and kitchen, flipping sofa cushions and emptying the bookshelf.

“They ripped my favorite skin mag to bits,” Devin lamented.

“Yourlifeis a skin mag, Dad,” Fox said.

The operatives pulled out dresser drawers and dumped the contents on the floor, pawed through papers and odds and ends. This went on for several minutes, and they finally left empty-handed.

“What were they looking for?” Eden asked.

“This, I expect.” He pulled a flash drive from his jeans pocket.

Eden held out her hand and Devin put the drive in it. Fox had never seen his father give anyone anything – except a baby. Or nine. The gift that kept on giving.

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