Chad frowned but stayed silent, watching Skull pick up his sword for him.
“It’s always the same problem.”
Catching the sword, Chad took a stance. He had a different opinion on what the real problem was—the fact that his opponent was a whole foot taller and about a half-ton heavier—but chose not to say anything. He’d asked for this, and he wasn’t going to back down now.
He might never be good enough by Skull’s standards, but he was already better than most.
This time, Skull attacked first.
He aimed at Chad’s stomach, Chad pulling back and parrying with his sword, already looking for an opening in Skull’s defense. The giant hadn’t even put up a shield this time, testing—or taunting—him. Chad hit back, his hands gripping the hilt hard enough to crush it, his blade slamming into Skull’s again and again.
He was just about to feint, when Skull twisted his sword and knocked the weapon out of his hand once again. Chad cursed but didn’t stop, lunging after it with his left arm outstretched. He whirled and brought it up just in time, propping himself on the floor with his right arm as Skull’s blade crashed into his.
Skull pressed down, but Chad didn’t budge. He allowed himself a small smile. “Lefty, remember?”
“I know,” Skull said—and swung his other arm, smacking his open palm into Chad’s forehead.
Chad ricocheted off it like a tennis ball, barely putting up a shield in time. Still, his head spun, and his pride tingled.
“Dammit! What did I do wrong now?” he demanded, sprawled on the floor.
“It was a good move. Stupid but good. Better than nothing.” Skull paused to drink some more water. “Staying in that defenseless position, that’s the problem. A move is only as good as the one after it. And your move was to sit on your ass and grin like an idiot.”
Chad suppressed a growl, dragging his hands down his face. He wasn’t going to argue with that. He’d gotten sloppy ever since the accident with Pain. Out of practice.
“Get up. I ain’t got all night,” Skull ordered.
Chad pulled himself up to a sitting position just as both of their phones began to ring. Skull frowned, picking his up. “What is it?” he said by way of greeting, the phone swallowed by his big mitt. “Uh-huh. Be there in five.”
Chad’s phone stopped ringing by the time he’d reached the table, but when he tried to call Pain back, Skull stopped him with a raised hand.
“No need. They got the Commandos. We’re moving out in twenty.”
“Me too?” Chad’s heart beat faster at the news.
Skull shrugged, grabbing their swords and tossing them into a bin in a corner. “If you’re not gonna be as stupid as the last time,” he said, ducking out the door.
“Thanks!” Chad called after him, making a face. “Very encouraging, trainer.”
Chapter 41
Dave sat on his bed, staring at the photo on his laptop screen. He didn’t know how much time had passed, and didn’t care. He’d found the man. He’d found the fucker, and that was all that mattered.
He’d quickly dismissed the other two Recorp Holdings shareholders. One of them was a woman with a big family and a long list of philanthropic endeavors he never knew one person was capable of pursuing. Looking at her pictures, seeing how busy and content and driven she seemed, he doubted she’d have any interest in what the Commandos were doing.
The other was a divorced middle-aged man currently on a trip around the world, according to his Instagram page. He’d been away for months, and besides, someone clearly suffering from a midlife crisis wouldn’t be capable of putting together something as shady and elaborate as the Commandos’ operation.
That left the third one. Philip Delamere. A dark-haired, stocky creature with haunted eyes, millions of dollars and too many lines on his face for his forty-five years, he seemed to be exactly what Dave was looking for.
It had taken Dave a few days to dig up enough info on Philip to know almost for sure.
The man’s only child had died—a girl of ten, the circumstances of her death vague—and his wife had suffered a serious injury and had been paralyzed for seven years. The fact that she still lived was a miracle, even with Philip’s money. If Dave ignored the “ski resort accident” explanation her husband had used in one of his interviews, he couldn’t help but wonder if what happened to Delamere’s daughter and wife was connected somehow.
He’d need Rooney’s resources to find out the date of the girl’s death without wasting too much time—or he could just go straight to Philip. His mansion’s address hadn’t been hard to find. That’s what Dave couldn’t decide, what got him locked in place, staring at the man’s photo.
One thing he knew for sure—all this seemed like a hell of a motive, and the skyfolk could easily be mixed up in it.
Dave stared at the photograph, the image before his eyes fading away, twisting, turning into Elena’s face. Her eyes, her smiling lips, her laugh and voice and scent—
He flinched, snapping out of his thoughts. The room had gotten dark, and the sounds were all muffled. He ripped the headphones off his head, realizing the playlist had ended long ago. Only then did he hear the commotion behind the door.
Dave frowned, locking his laptop, and got off the bed.
Outside, men were milling in the hall. The waiting room doors swung open, and Peter stepped out wearing gear and a distracted frown. He caught Dave’s confused gaze and waved him into the office, his other hand clasping his gear jacket.
Dave’s thoughts tripped over themselves as he left his room and hurried after the others. Just then, the elevator opened and spat out Chad, the
