inappropriate road.
Lisbon faded behind us, but I barely noticed, occupied with my own thoughts. The entire episode with the man back in Lisbon unsettled me. Before now, I had this image of my father as a rather mild mannered businessman who stopped work precisely at six for dinner and always kissed my mother hello, goodbye and good night.
Now, having met with the man I had been sent to Lisbon for, my opinion was fast revising. Taking that with the attempts on his life and Colton telling me I was in danger, it was very possible my father was involved in some not so upright or honest work.
I’d never paid much attention to my father’s work. I knew he did something with money and cloth, but didn’t know, and didn’t care to know the details. As long as a roof remained over my head, I was perfectly happy. I regretted that fact now.
And what about my pendant? I tried to remember what my father told me when he gave it to me. Something about it being in the family for generations and when I was older, he would explain more. Only he hadn’t. He had been very specific that I meet with his contact and give him what my father had given me. So while I had followed my father's instructions, I'd refused to do the most important part. It hadn't felt right, handing over the pendant.
Honestly, if my father wanted me to do something, he should know by now that I required reasons for doing anything. He couldn't just send me to Lisbon and demand I give an object to a stranger. He knew me better than that.
I wasn’t certain how long we rode, but Colton suddenly stopped the horse. I didn’t have to speak the question hovering between us before he answered it, “I thought you might want to walk a while.”
Anything that allowed me to feel like a single person instead of a two-headed monster was agreeable. “I do.”
In another moment, we were on the ground. I took a moment to stretch, and watched Colton out the corner of my eye as he did the same. My eyes scanned the skin revealed at his waist when he extended his arms over his head. Men built like Colton were not part of my everyday existence and I could be forgiven for appreciating him while I could.
I might actually grow to like him if he didn’t speak. Every time he opened his mouth, the urge to scream intensified. One day soon, he would comment on the color of the sky and I would immediately begin shrieking.
We began walking side by side down the road, Brutus trailing a few steps behind. “Why did you take me to Lisbon?”
“Because your father asked me to.”
“So you’ve said. Tell me the real reason you agreed to escort me to Lisbon.” If I started with easy questions, perhaps I could lull him into revealing clues to my bigger ones.
“Not relevant.” A shadow from the trees above lazily drifted over his face as the sun peeked from behind its cloud cover.
“How can that not be relevant?”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want answered,” was his noncommittal response.
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know.” Really, this conversation was much harder than it should be. He was being difficult.
“You won’t want to know this.” His stride never faltered as he dismissed my question.
“Don’t tell me what I do and do not want to know.” Indignation crept into my voice. I quickened my own stride in an attempt to remain even with him.
“Ask the correct questions and I will be happy to answer them.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That you are missing the key fact that makes everything else extremely simple.”
“Oh? And what is that fact?”
“Your father is a spy.”
Chapter Four
“He is not a spy,” I automatically answered, my mind racing with the implications of the accusation. Was it true?
Only he couldn’t be a spy. Spies ran around doing suspicious stuff, attending top-secret meetings and befriending menacing people. (Well, I had met one of my father’s associates, and he had been menacing
Lisbon faded behind us, but I barely noticed, occupied with my own thoughts. The entire episode with the man back in Lisbon unsettled me. Before now, I had this image of my father as a rather mild mannered businessman who stopped work precisely at six for dinner and always kissed my mother hello, goodbye and good night.
Now, having met with the man I had been sent to Lisbon for, my opinion was fast revising. Taking that with the attempts on his life and Colton telling me I was in danger, it was very possible my father was involved in some not so upright or honest work.
I’d never paid much attention to my father’s work. I knew he did something with money and cloth, but didn’t know, and didn’t care to know the details. As long as a roof remained over my head, I was perfectly happy. I regretted that fact now.
And what about my pendant? I tried to remember what my father told me when he gave it to me. Something about it being in the family for generations and when I was older, he would explain more. Only he hadn’t. He had been very specific that I meet with his contact and give him what my father had given me. So while I had followed my father's instructions, I'd refused to do the most important part. It hadn't felt right, handing over the pendant.
Honestly, if my father wanted me to do something, he should know by now that I required reasons for doing anything. He couldn't just send me to Lisbon and demand I give an object to a stranger. He knew me better than that.
I wasn’t certain how long we rode, but Colton suddenly stopped the horse. I didn’t have to speak the question hovering between us before he answered it, “I thought you might want to walk a while.”
Anything that allowed me to feel like a single person instead of a two-headed monster was agreeable. “I do.”
In another moment, we were on the ground. I took a moment to stretch, and watched Colton out the corner of my eye as he did the same. My eyes scanned the skin revealed at his waist when he extended his arms over his head. Men built like Colton were not part of my everyday existence and I could be forgiven for appreciating him while I could.
I might actually grow to like him if he didn’t speak. Every time he opened his mouth, the urge to scream intensified. One day soon, he would comment on the color of the sky and I would immediately begin shrieking.
We began walking side by side down the road, Brutus trailing a few steps behind. “Why did you take me to Lisbon?”
“Because your father asked me to.”
“So you’ve said. Tell me the real reason you agreed to escort me to Lisbon.” If I started with easy questions, perhaps I could lull him into revealing clues to my bigger ones.
“Not relevant.” A shadow from the trees above lazily drifted over his face as the sun peeked from behind its cloud cover.
“How can that not be relevant?”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want answered,” was his noncommittal response.
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know.” Really, this conversation was much harder than it should be. He was being difficult.
“You won’t want to know this.” His stride never faltered as he dismissed my question.
“Don’t tell me what I do and do not want to know.” Indignation crept into my voice. I quickened my own stride in an attempt to remain even with him.
“Ask the correct questions and I will be happy to answer them.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That you are missing the key fact that makes everything else extremely simple.”
“Oh? And what is that fact?”
“Your father is a spy.”
Chapter Four
“He is not a spy,” I automatically answered, my mind racing with the implications of the accusation. Was it true?
Only he couldn’t be a spy. Spies ran around doing suspicious stuff, attending top-secret meetings and befriending menacing people. (Well, I had met one of my father’s associates, and he had been menacing
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