Page 29 of Cozen

“Not like them,” Jett returned. “But frankly, I prefer you as you are because it makes you seem less like them, if you get my drift. No one suspects you are part of my protection, and it gives you another upper hand, Sarg.”

“You really need to stop using that nickname.”

“Not yet.”

Sargon sighed, and looked back at Jett. “What else do they whine about?”

“Nothing important, but I’ve let you know, so now you can do with it what you want.”

“Keep my eye on them, but that’s about it.”

Jett nodded once. “Petty grievances can sometimes make the bloodiest problems. Oh, and I have something for you.”

Sargon took the file Jett pulled from the black, leather case he always toted around. Flipping it open as the car finally pulled away from the Griffin estate, Sargon was surprised at the amount of information he found staring back at him.

Information about himself.

“You’ve found information even I didn’t know,” Sargon murmured as he looked over details of the supposed crash that killed his parents. Visa information that had allowed them travel into and semi-permanently stay in the United States. Details about their family in Iran, and who was left to contact from that group. “I don’t suppose this helped you, though, did it?”

Jett gave him a look. “No.”

The word was so dry, Sargon felt it scrape across his skin.

“I was adopted—not legally—by Mia and William Jones. They worried that should they file properly for me, I would be taken from them, or even my biological parents’ families would come for me.”

Sargon repeated the elaborate lie his parents had drummed into his skull over the years.

“Mmm.”

Sargon thumbed through another paper. “Problem?”

“Those names—Mia, William, and Jones—are some of the most common in the United States, I suppose. It makes it hard to dig in to their details, that’s all.”

Which was the point.

Or so his parents always told him.

Sargon handed back the file. “I welcome you to go ahead and look in to them all you want, Jett. There’s nothing to find. I am, and have always been since I was old enough to go out on my own, a transient. Nothing ties me down, and I don’t put roots very far into the ground in case I find myself stuck there. I don’t like to be stuck. I keep moving, and I only rest for so long before I go on again.”

“And that’s what this is to you?”

“This job with you?” Sargon asked.

Jett nodded.

“Yes, that’s what it is. I haven’t hidden that.”

“You’re right,” Jett said, “you haven’t.”

Sargon smirked. “So, do I get to stay to work another day?”

Jett laughed darkly. “For now. And lunch, too.”

“Hmm?”

“You will have lunch with me today, too.”

Sargon lifted a brow high. “Why?”