Cuff Lynx by Fiona Quinn Page A

adventures.”
    Wait. What? “You met with Mr. Spencer and Striker before you let me know you were in town?”
    “Of course, Lexicon. What would a good operative do once they have received an emergency summons?”
    “Obtain intelligence, make a plan, find alternatives, actuate. I could have told you what was going on in my life, Spyder. It feels like you went behind my back and asked people to tattle.”
    He threw his head back and laughed – the laugh I loved. It rolled up from his belly and burst through his mouth with the power of a storm. When I heard his laughter, rich and deep, it reminded me of the title of a favorite childhood novel, Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry. Thunderous — sometimes startling — his laughter cut the air and changed the atmospheric pressure.
    “I’m betting it was you who taught Striker to laugh like that,” I said.
    “Striker and I have been through many a harrowing and life-threatening adventure together. Of course I would offer him my wisdom.” Spyder winked at me.
    “He needs a tutorial,” I said, shielding my eyes from the sun as I scanned over the water.
    “Yes? I always thought he excelled at the art of laughter. His laughs start in his feet and bubbles up through his whole body.”
    “He loses his balance, and he tears up a little. It’s not very macho.” I wrinkled my nose. Spyder rewarded me with another burst of merriment. I settled back on my elbows and watched the gulls sail in circles overhead. Spyder was right, of course. I needed more of this: time spent grounding myself in nature, laughter, balance.
    Spyder seemed content to sit and watch the waves brush white froth onto the pebbly shore. And I knew to wait. Just as the warm sun started to make me feel sleepy, Spyder said, “Striker has asked for the honor of your hand in marriage.”
    “He did?” I still thought of our engagement as private, I was surprised that Striker would share. And a little conflicted that he would ask permission – though that was probably a sign of respect and an acknowledgement of Spyder’s role in my life more than anything else. I sat up, encircling my bent knees with my arms.  “That was very traditional of him. What did you say?”
    “That I would like to speak with you first. The path you are now walking is difficult. The challenges are multifold when you consider Striker’s position and yours. Few Iniquus operatives are married, and there are very good reasons.”
    “Such as. . .”
    “Come. Let us walk.”
    I jumped down beside Spyder, and he held out his hand. We moved along the shore. “I have known you your whole life, though my role changed when you turned thirteen. Did you ever wonder why I became your mentor?”
    “No, I just assumed it was because I’m a genius and incredibly well-coordinated, and you like it when I cook for you.”
    “Of course.” Spyder sent me a grin. “You are teasing, but I am not.” The scream of a gull pulled his attention out over the water, and it seemed to me as though Spyder was trying to make a decision. Finally, he continued. “Your father and I used to be partners.”
    “At the garage?”
    “No, Lexicon, your father was in the intelligence field.”
    That stopped me dead in my tracks.
    “He was an excellent operative. One of the best I have ever seen. You get your intellectual and physical aptitudes from him. But you get your creative way of seeing the world from your mother. It is a powerful combination.” Spyder pulled my hand to get me walking again. “When your father met your mother, he fell instantly and decidedly in love with her. They married quickly, and your mother became pregnant with you. They were living in Panama at the time. There, your mother became a target. Your father had to fight to save her life. She was injured, and the doctors weren’t sure that she could or should carry the pregnancy to term. Your mother and father came back to the United States so she could get the best of care. She was placed on