She should give them the day off, but she could smell war on the wind, so she followed Paxton, surprised when he didn’t slow down. “Pax, wait up.”
“How about we talk later, Hope?” Dogged determination settled hard on his face as he slogged through the snow.
“How about you tell me how bad you’re feeling?”
He looked down at her. “I feel crappy. I think it’s more than just getting a couple of bones broken and being stabbed a few times. It’s whatever’s in my blood. I’m going to go home, take a shower, heal my injuries, and then drop by Emma’s lab on the way to our meeting.”
“That’s a good plan,” Hope said. “Can I do anything to help?”
His grin was quick, but at least it was there. “Not unless you want to hop in the shower with me.”
If he had any idea how tempted she was, she’d probably end up in that shower before she knew it. Instead, she slapped his arm lightly. “Knock it off. We’re going to war, unless I can find a way to broker peace.” They had to forget what had happened earlier against the door.
He stopped in the middle of the snowy street. “I like that you’ve always wanted to find peace.” He slid his thumb along her jawline and tugged on her ear. “I wish I could be positive as well, but I don’t feel peace coming for us.”
Her skin was electrified, her entire body heating from that one little touch.
His watch dinged, and he glanced down. He straightened, stiffened, and somehow looked more distant than ever.
“What is it?” she asked.
“It was a message from a source,” he murmured. “I’m going to miss our lunch meeting.”
She tried to read his watch, but the message had already faded away. “Why? What’s happening?”
He eyed the forest and the trees, obviously looking for snipers. They were always about, especially these days. “A source has located my father. It’s time he and I had a little chat.”
Chapter Seventeen
Still burned, battered, and bleeding from a wound in his head, Paxton found his father in a dilapidated bar outside of Cabo San Lucas. Known only to locals, it was a place for drinking and not much else. The flight had taken more than five hours because of rough weather, though the harsh sun had been blinding as it ripped through the clouds from time to time. His head was still aching from the glare.
The ocean rolled in the distance as Paxton opened the flimsy wooden door and walked inside, instantly feeling the warmth of the many bodies scattered inside the rough building. Bottles of cheap liquor were piled high behind the scarred wooden bar.
As he stalked across the dirt floor, the stench of body odor, puke, and stale beer filled his nostrils. But he didn’t care. He approached the lone figure sitting on a stool at the far end of the bar, a broad male hunched over a glass of rotgut.
The more Pax moved, the more his heart rate finally picked up. The drug was still poisoning his system, and he thought idly it might be shutting him down pretty soon, so he had to get his affairs in order. Unfortunately, one of those items included dealing with this asshole from his past. As he got close, his father lifted his head.
Slowly, that dark gaze, already filled with hatred, swept Paxton from his feet to the top of his head. “Huh, guess your brain didn’t explode earlier, did it?”
The implications of that statement shot through Paxton. Even though he had heard the truth from Henric, there was a part of him—that scared kid from long ago who had wanted to impress his father—that hadn’t wanted to believe it. His own father had been more than willing to see him dead.
“How did you find me?” Paelotin asked, swigging back the rotgut.
“I’ve at least had an idea of your location since I turned sixteen years old,” Paxton said. “Didn’t matter who I had to bribe or beat up. I kept track of you.”
“Not very well,” Paelotin said, motioning to the bartender for another round.
The bartender, a short human who had to be about ninety years old, shuffled over, his girth barely clearing the narrow space behind the bar. He poured some unidentifiable liquid into Paelotin’s glass and went away.
“So you really wanted me dead,” Paxton said.
“Huh. Actually, I didn’t give two shits,” Paelotin said, looking at his drink. His raw hatred belied his words.
“How long have you been working with the Kurjans?” Paxton asked evenly, pulling out a stool when all he wanted to do was choke the very life out of the monster in front of him.
“Does it matter?”
Paxton wasn’t sure whether it did or not. “If you don’t remember, then don’t worry about it.” He motioned for the bartender. The guy came over, his thin gray hair oiled back with a thick paste, and he poured Paxton a glass, not looking up, then shuffled away.
“The Defenders contacted me when the Realm kicked me out,” Paelotin pointed for the bartender to just come and leave the bottle. The guy did so with no expression.
Pax eyed the bottle. Most of the label had been worn off. “You were a soldier for the Realm. How could you just switch alliances like that?” The Kurjans had killed Pax’s mother. How could his father hate the Realm and Paxton more than the evil scum who had killed his mate?
“The Kurjans made it worth my while. I figured, why not? They at least were offering money while the Realm offered nothing but disappointment.” He looked Paxton up and down. “I could’ve trained you well, but they took you from me, although, let’s be honest, I didn’t much care. I figured you’d be a scientist or something. Are you?”
“You know exactly what I am,” Paxton retorted. “You’ve been in contact with Henric this whole time.”
Paelotin poured more into his glass. “Henric knows what he is doing. He may be a scientist, but the guy’s a strategic genius. He got you to work for him, didn’t he?”
Paxton couldn’t argue with that.
“Plus,” Paelotin continued, “he got Santino, that moron, to work for him as well. Well, for a while. You know your uncle tried to get out.”
Paxton tipped back his glass, trying not to wince as the liquor burned down his throat. Stuff tasted like pure acid. “Santino tried to leave the Defenders?”
“Oh yeah,” Paelotin said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Something about Sam Kyllwood and a vote to kill him. I think he finally realized the stakes. He told Henric he wanted out, and of course, Henric made threats. Said he had people watching you and would kill you.”
Paxton’s chest hurt, but he didn’t rub it. He refused to show any unease to his father. “Santino’s a good man.” No doubt he would’ve sacrificed himself to save Pax. “Unlike you. You’ve never sacrificed for anybody, have you?” The anger still flowed through him, but he wouldn’t let it show. He would never give Paelotin that satisfaction. “I waited a long time to talk to you,” he said.
Paelotin snorted. “We don’t have anything to say, boy. You chose the Realm over me.”
“Of course I did,” Paxton said. “You’re a loser who beats kids and works for the enemy. One of the biggest regrets of my life is that I have your last name. I could change it.”