Scars (The Killers #5) - Brynne Asher Page 0,98

home office. “I think he went outside to putter around the barn. When you have a home the size of this one, there are always things that need tweaking, no?”

“I thought we were going to wait ‘til later for my French lesson.”

“We are.” I pull out the chair and set her on my lap at the desk in front of the monitor as Daisy curls up on my foot. “Right now, we’re going to do something else. Do you know what the only good thing is that comes from something as horrid as a house fire?”

She looks up at me and frowns. “No.”

“Shopping. I haven’t shopped much lately so I figure this is my time to shine. Would you like to start with clothes, toys, or books?”

“You mean, I get to pick what I want?”

“Of course, darling. Who else would choose your things for you?”

She shrugged. “My mommy didn’t let me choose much.”

Of course she didn’t. This might be more fun than I thought. “Today is your day. I assume you’ll need a brand-new copy of The Secret Garden and some school clothes. Beyond that, I’m going to need your help.”

Nervousness leaks through her innocent face. “Um … I don’t like to wear dresses.”

“Well then, no dresses for you. How can you swing and run and play in a dress? I don’t blame you one bit. Tell me, where should we start?”

She chews on a piece of skin around her fingernail and shrugs. “Books?”

I click on the browser to pull up the bookstore. “I thought as much.”

After I add a copy of The Secret Garden to the basket, we continue our search. I can’t say it’s as much fun as shopping with my mum when I was little, and if I were able to actually live my life in public, I would have bought her a cup of hot chocolate to sip while strolling the aisles and aisles of children’s fiction.

Someday.

But for today, this will do. Abbott doesn’t hate me for being here instead of her mum or for loving her father. She might not be close to trusting me with her secrets, but this is a step in the right direction. Even this morning, Red didn’t once look as if he were going to blame me for his son’s home being blown to bits.

The road in front of me might be long and I’m not sure where it will lead, but, for now, I’ll take this and tuck it away in my healing heart. As opposed to the physical scar which now decorates my body, I don’t want the one on my heart to disappear. It’s a reminder of this—Abbott trusting me, Red accepting me, and Cole doing everything in his power to hand me the world.

That’s one scar I’ll happily treasure forever.

Chapter 29

Macpussy

Cole

Nothing has fucked over the intelligence community more than the franchise of James Bond. The idiots who won’t let that sucker die have no idea how off-base they are.

If we get into a shootout, we’ve fucked up.

If we get into a car chase, we’ve done something wrong. My most recent incident with Jarvis’s precious Porsche notwithstanding … that shit was not my fault.

I’ve never been on a high-speed boat while working. Well, there was that one time when we had to borrow a single-engine outboard. We weren’t able to return it due to the fact it sunk but I did track down the fisherman and sent him a check from Uncle Sam.

And if we had the kickass technology Tony Stark uses to support the Avengers, intelligence jobs would be downright obsolete.

In reality, our best-practice techniques are basic human psychology and understanding what motivates people. Networking. Analyzing. Studying. Then taking that data and deducing what might happen next.

It doesn’t hurt to know your way around a security system or how to pick a lock the old-fashioned way, either.

Which is what I did three hours ago. Since then, I’m back to being patient. Before I left, Ozzy tracked Penn’s wife and kids to the States where it looks like they’re visiting family over the summer. Penn stayed behind to work so I had no one but a gang of villainous Shakespearean pussies to worry about. They do not live up to their names, weaving their way in and out of my ankles, not giving a shit I broke into their house. This makes me wonder why Abbott’s cat hates me so much. I’m not that bad and I’m the one paying for catnip. There are so many reasons

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