I’ve heard that name before, and my entire body goes cold.
Lynx is one of our assassins. I’ve never met him, but I remember a particularly inconvenient person disappearing right as we were closing a deal. Lynx got sent to neutralize a witness, too, one who was primed to inform on one of our business holdings.
Shit.
“Maybe it was for something unrelated,” I hedge, but my gut knows that’s not true even before Mom shakes her head.
“George mentioned Dyschord. I couldn’t hear much beyond that,” she says, reaching out to touch my shoulder. “I don’t think he’d hurt you. But the same isn’t true of your friends.”
I’m not so confident that he wouldn’t hurt me.
Apparently I’m not his only child.
The idea of him attempting to claim the Corroux twins as his own is laughable, but if I disappear, that’ll still be an option for him.
“Thanks, Mom,” I say softly. I wrap my arms around her. She hugs me back easily.
She’s smaller than I am. Frail. Delicate.
Dad had better not hurt her.
“You be careful, too,” I say. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but, uh, it might be bad.”
“I’m sorry I can’t do more to help you,” Mom says quietly. The guilt in her voice is nearly palpable, but I understand why she can’t stand up to him.
“Thanks for telling me. I’ll figure it out,” I promise. “I wouldn’t be your son if I couldn’t.” I give her a crooked smile.
Maybe Asch isn’t the only Mama’s boy.
15
PANDORA
I pull up in front of the dorm building, where it saysno parking, and park my SUV. River parks his car behind mine.
I get out at the same time as Samantha. “I’ll head into the building with you,” I say. “I need to grab my mail anyway.”
“The sign says…” Samantha begins, only to cut herself off with a disgusted scoff. “Never mind.”
“Yeah, that’s never stopped Pandora before,” River says, walking up to my SUV. He’s wearing the scarf Mama gave him, and it makes my chest warm to see him in it.
Samantha is wearing the beanie and gloves Mama gave her, too. I hope that means she actually likes them and isn’t simply wearing them to be polite. She’d had them on all day yesterday when we’d done our last tourist-y stuff in NB.
Just like old times, except Samantha isn’t Rachel. She isn’t anything like Rachel at all. Rachel wouldn’t have been excited by the tourist traps, and she would have had much more to say about the art galleries we stopped in.
“It’s only going to be five seconds,” I say. “I reallyjust want to grab my mail.”
“I’ll take care of Ra—” River blanches. “Samantha.”
I’d laugh, if the mix-up were actually funny.
I glance at Samantha, and for a split second, I see long hair, bright makeup, and piercings all up her ear.
I blink, and it’s Samantha again, her lips pursed in discomfort.
“Do you need an escort up to the room?” I ask.
“No,” Samantha says shortly. “I appreciate it, but I can go upstairs to our room by myself without a problem.” She grabs her bag from the back of the SUV, then heads for the door to the dorms.
