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I was only eighteen when I was sucked into the seedy world that Davos and his men belong to. It was harder to stomach then, and with time, with my own methods of coping, it’s gotten easier. But I never imagined letting myself care about someone, so I never imagined the acute fury and disgust of watching it happen to someone that means something to me. I still don’t understand the depth of it.
I stretch my free arm out and fold her against my body. Claire buries her face in my shirt and her arms cling to me like she doesn't have the strength to hold herself up. Her entire body seems to be trembling, so I squeeze her harder against me.
"I want to kill you." I tell him honestly. "People like you don't deserve to live."
"But...?" His tongue flicks out over his lips, anticipating what more I have to say.
"But you might be useful to me. So, I'm not going to kill you yet."
"Oh?" He mocks. "Do you want me to thank you for your mercy, sir?"
"No." I laugh. "I want you to call Davos."
He narrows his gaze on me, suspicion taking over the sharp features of his face. "You want to tell him you win? Really gonna pour some fuel on the fire?"
"No." I shake my head and wave the gun, a reminder of why he’s taking my commands. "You are."
The kid laughs and reaches into his pocket to withdraw a phone. He must have Alexandre Davos on speed dial because it’s only a few seconds before he has it on speakerphone with the dial tone echoing around us.
"Wes." Davos' greeting is curt, impatient.
"Hey, dad." Wes smirks at me, confirming what my suspicions had already started to put together.
"Are you on the plane?"
Considering he thinks Wes has just made him an ungodly amount of money, he doesn't sound very pleased with his son.
"About that..." Wes hesitates. "I don't think I'm going to make the flight."
"Why?" He growls.
"Because," I say. "Your boy and I have some catching up to do."
"Remington?" Davos sounds confused, but that’s crowded out by the fury. I can picture him with his hands splayed on his desk, spitting at the phone in front of him. "What's going on?"
"I told you I would hunt you down. I promised you a slow death. I don't go back on my promises, but you're going to have to take a rain check."
"Where's the asset?" He demands, his voice rising in a glorious mixture of panic and rage. Just an hour ago, he had been delighting in my desperation, and now he’s surely feeling the same. "Where is she?"
"Don't worry about Claire. She's safe. Your son, on the other hand? That depends on you."
"You think I care about the kid?" Davos laughs. "He means about as much to me as any of my other employees. Maybe even less."
Wes laughs, too.
"Well, I hope the two I killed weren't ones that you cared about."
There’s a beat of silence, and when Davos speaks again, his words are tense. "What do you want, Remington?"
"Simple. Tell me who killed my father."
The laughter from the other end of the line is deep and rolling. Even when he pulls himself together, the amusement isn't gone from his voice. "We both know the answer to that question."
For now, that’s all the answer that I need. "I'll be in touch." I tell him.
The line goes dead.
Wes flashes a grin at me. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say he likes you more than me."
