I sent a text to Flynn when we agreed to call it a night. She probably already knew about her brother, but I’d tell her anyway, just in case she didn’t.
Heard Buck and Stella are on their way back, I wrote.
Me too. So relieved, she responded.
I sat and stared at the phone, not knowing what else to say. I was relieved when I saw the marching dots indicating she was writing another message.
Want some company?
More than anything.
32
Flynn
When I drove up to the cabin and saw Paxon sitting on the porch swing, I smiled. I’d hoped that was where he’d be.
I parked, and he stood and waited while I grabbed something from the passenger seat.
“What’s this?” he asked when I handed him the bag.
“Dessert.”
“Wow. You’re spoiling me.”
“Someone should.”
With those words, his eyes met mine. “Thank you, Flynn. It’s been a long time since…”
“Since what?”
“I don’t want to make it sound like Cope, Decker, and the other guys on my detail haven’t taken care of me. Each one has risked their life for mine.” He held up the bag. “This is…different.”
“I can promise you I did not risk my life making peach cobbler.” I smiled, and so did he.
“It means a lot.”
“Wanna share it?” I asked, knowing I’d brought plenty for two.
“I’d love that.”
I stopped him when he went to go inside. “Everything we need is in that bag.”
He pulled out two napkins, forks, spoons, and the cobbler. “It’s still warm.”
“Which means the ice cream on top is probably melted.”
He opened the lid and breathed in. “It smells so good.”
“Let’s hope it tastes good too.”
We sat on the swing and dug in with our spoons.
“I ate almost all of it,” Paxon said, pointing to the two or three bites that were left.
“I only wanted a taste anyway.”
“Now I feel bad.”
I laughed and stood when he did. “Don’t waste the energy.” I’m not sure what possessed me to do it, but I put my hand on his arm, reached up, and kissed his cheek.
The reaction I got couldn’t have been worse.
33
Irish
My only explanation was that Flynn had caught me off guard. When she kissed my cheek, instead of kissing her back or even smiling, I took an abrupt step backwards.
“Sorry,” she mumbled as she ran down the porch steps and over to her truck. She was inside, with the engine started, before I came out of my stupor enough to go after her. By then, it was too late.
When Cope texted me the next day, shortly after daylight, asking if I was ready to get to work, I told him I wanted to be on my own this morning. When Decker knocked on the door shortly thereafter, I told him to go the fuck away.
“Open up, Irish. You know if you don’t, I’ll come in anyway.”
“Do you have no respect for personal space?” I asked, flinging the door open.
“None whatsoever.” Instead of coming inside, he stood on the porch. “We’re going to work at the other cabin this morning. That way, Ali won’t be on her own all day.”
“Go right ahead. I can get just as much done from here.”
“Knock it off. Whatever happened, get over it, and get your ass next door.”
I didn’t remember much about my father. I wasn’t even in double digits when he died, but the tone of Decker’s voice sent me straight back to being a little kid. Instead of arguing with him, I grabbed my laptop and followed him next door. It didn’t dawn on me until we were walking that he’d realized “something” had, in fact, happened. That made me feel more like a child.
Ali opened the door, and instead of stepping aside so we could both come in, she only let Decker pass.
“You need a hug.” She stepped closer and embraced me.
“Yeah? How can you tell?”
She let go and cocked her head. “Honestly, Irish, I think you need one every time I see you.”
I put my hands on her shoulders. “How are you feeling?”
“Morning sickness sucks donkey balls.” She rubbed her stomach. “But it’s so worth it.”
“I don’t really know what questions to ask.”
Ali laughed. “I’m about eight weeks along. We weren’t trying, but we weren’t not trying, if that makes sense.”
Being of Irish descent, my skin was pale, which meant I flushed easily, as I was now.
“I’ll stop embarrassing you. Cope has been digging into this Xander thing since last night.” She motioned to where he sat at the table, head propped on his hand.
“Did he sleep?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Hey,” I said, walking over and squeezing his shoulder. “Find anything?”
“Probably nothing more than you did. Here’s what I don’t get. What’s with ‘Xander’? His middle name is Clark. William Clark Harris.”
I hadn’t given it any thought, but as soon as Cope said it, I had a guess. “Alexander the Great.”
Decker raised his head. “The defender of the Argead.”
“Or it isn’t related at all,” Cope grumbled.
“It is. I’m sure of it,” said Decker. “There wasn’t time for a briefing, but I…uh…have a recording of Stella and Kerr’s conversation.”
It was Decker’s hesitation that made me raise my head. “She was wired?”
More than his hesitation, the flush of his cheeks told me that Stella hadn’t been aware she was. Now wasn’t the time for me to get high and mighty about it. In fact, there’d never be a time for me to question Decker’s means or motives. I trusted him, and he’d kept me alive. Not just me, countless other agents. I would never doubt his intentions were for the greater good of just that—the good. Like everyone I’d worked with on the Invincibles’ team, I believed their agenda was the same as mine: to rid the world of as much of the evil we could as long as we walked the face of it.
What we heard was similar to what Burns had
