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FOURTEEN
PATRICK
Patrick saw Gabriel's Jag backing from the alley beside his building, and he broke into a jog, pulling up beside the car and rapping on the driver's window. It rolled down with a "Yes?"
The voice did not sound at all like his son's, and it took another moment to actually look and see a young woman in the driver's seat, one with ash-blond hair and green eyes, her lips pursed, as if she'd bitten into something and found it not to her taste.
"Liv?" He paused. "Why are you driving Gabriel's car?"
"Shhh. I'm stealing it. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
He jogged around the back of the vehicle, which may not have been the wisest choice, as he could swear he heard her playing with the accelerator. She kept her foot on the brake, though, at least until he'd cleared the bumper, and then she let the car roll back. He grabbed the passenger door and managed to get it open and slide in.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Adding kidnapping to the charges."
"Excellent. Now I just need to commit murder, and I'll have a full crime-spree hat trick."
"Still angry with me, I see."
"Not angry. Annoyed."
"You threaten to murder people who annoy you?"
"I'm part fae. I can't help myself. What do you want, Patrick?"
He looked out the side window. "Where are we going?"
She turned onto the next street. "If this is about that ridiculous project you set Gabriel on--"
"You don't like it?"
"Oh, I like it just fine. What I don't like is you sniffing around, trying to ingratiate yourself with him."
"Sniffing around? That sounds vulgar."
"No, just desperate." She took another corner, a little too sharp, smacking him against the door.
He fastened his seat belt as he said, "Are you forgetting that I saved you from Tristan?"
"No, you only 'saved' us from the inconvenience of figuring out what to do with him, and you only did that for this very same reason: to ingratiate yourself with Gabriel. Possibly me, too, as Matilda, but it's mostly about Gabriel. Which is why you started coming around while I was out of the country. Doing an end run around me."
"That is...unfair."
"Can barely get the word out, huh?"
Patrick settled back in his seat. "You're the one who is so upset about me failing to play a role in my son's life. Now that I am, you're angry with me. You need to make up your mind, Liv."
She hit the brake so hard he was grateful for the seat belt, though he still might have bruises later.
"Out," she said.
"It's not your car."
She steered to the curb, yanked the gearshift into park and got out. The door slammed. The trunk opened. A clatter as she took something out. Patrick envisioned Liv marching around to the passenger door with a shotgun. Instead she marched past with a parcel under her arm.
He took off after her. As soon as his door shut, she lifted the key fob and hit the lock mechanism without turning around. He jogged to catch up.
