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FOUR
Julius
I swungmy putter and nailed the golf ball, sending it up the small hill. As I watched, the neon green sphere raced straight toward the hole, ricocheted off the back border, and rolled back toward us, invalidating my entire swing. “Fucking hell,” I grumbled, stepping back for Talon to take his turn.
I didn’t bother watching him, knowing that if he didn’t get an immediate hole-in-one, he’d come close to it. I should have never suggested we join in this mini golfing expedition to keep an eye on Dess and her family, but once they made it deep enough in the course, we would have struggled to keep an eye out without being spotted if we weren’t players ourselves.
Dressing like golf-course employees had been the second option, but the margin for error was too high. This place didn’t employ that many people. It would have taken only one genuine employee to catch us and kick us off the course.
So here I stood, groaning as Talon sent his ball toward the hole. With a single bank, it clattered in effortlessly. He tugged at the lapels of his polo shirt with a satisfied air.
I glowered at him. “You could at least act humble.”
A sliver of a smile crossed my long-time partner’s lips, and I’d worked with him so long that I could recognize it as a taunt when most wouldn’t have. “You could act like you know what you’re doing,” he retorted.
He was the only member of the crew who’d have dared to make a comment like that, and he’d only have made it when the younger men weren’t around. I let out a disgruntled huff and lined up my shot before hitting it haphazardly. I knew how to aim guns, not golf clubs.
My ball didn’t go anywhere near the hole, but it stayed atop the hill, so we strode up there together, looking over at the next part of the course as we walked.
Dess stood before her ball. She swung the putter with about as much skill as I had, which soothed my wounded ego a little. The ball lifted and soared into the rocks outside the range. Her mother let out a soft giggle and patted Dess on the shoulder with a few words of encouragement. Dess shook herself, and I could see her reining in her natural competitive instincts to plaster an easy-going smile on her face.
I had to restrain a grimace at the sight of that artificial friendliness. She didn’t fit with this family: her mother perfectly outfitted in white capris and visor, her brother slouching along the side of the course as he leaned on his club nonchalantly, her father completely at ease with his putter as he tapped it on the greenery.
“Must be a rich person thing,” I muttered as I eyed them and then my ball. “I’d have thought they’d stick to the real thing, but I guess this is just a mini version of the country club.”
Blaze had surveyed this place after Dess had gotten the invitation. I’d wanted to see how her birth family interacted with her for myself, for reasons I didn’t feel I needed to spell out. The Maliks did head off to a country club where they had a membership every weekend that Damien was home, but the owner of this miniature course was a donor to their campaign, and sometimes the family came by here to play.
“They’re easing Dess up to the full challenge,” Talon remarked in his usual unemotional way.
“She doesn’t need that kind of challenge. She’s got plenty of other things on her plate.”
“They don’t know that.”
“If they had any brains, they’d figure it out.” I managed to hit my ball into the hole, finally, and straightened up. Damien was just taking his own turn, easily hitting a hole-in-two. My hackles rose for no reason I could put my finger on. “He’s just keeping up appearances by coming here, buttering up the donors.”
Talon shrugged. “That’s part of his job, isn’t it?”
“I don’t trust anyone who mostly thinks about what they can get out of the people they’re supposedly working on behalf of,” I replied.
As we moved to the next part of the course, Talon spun his ball in his hand and studied me. “He’s her father, and he planned a simple activity to keep them entertained.”
“His being her father doesn’t mean anything. Family doesn’t automatically make someone a good person.” As Talon should know, although my own sense of personal consideration stopped me from saying that out loud. He didn’t need salt rubbed in the wound openly.
From the way my friend’s eyes flashed, the remark had hit home anyway. “Playing the role of parents in public doesn’t mean much, but he’s been good with her so far. She seems happy.”
I had to admit, if only in brooding silence, that he was right. I’d thought that seeing her happy would be the only thing I’d want, but as I watched her exchange small talk and the occasional grin with these people, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wished she wasn’t so relieved to be with them.
I wanted her to have sustainable happiness, but the Maliks—and their political lifestyle—didn’t seem like a life I’d ever have envisioned for her. Maybe it was the right fit for her and she’d just never had the chance to grow into it, but I had trouble believing that after seeing her in real action.
But I couldn’t pretend away the victorious bounce in her step after she knocked her ball into the hole. Or the way she leaned into her mother’s hand when the woman touched her hair as if confirming her daughter was really still there. Or her chuckle as she gave her brother a light punch to the shoulder and laughed harder at his playful complaints in response.
God, that laugh could have sent me into an early grave. The sight of her tipping back her head to the sun, delight shining in her pale face and dark eyes, tugged at my heart.
Had she ever laughed with the crew like that? I wasn’t sure I’d seen that much joy fill her face when she talked to us. Sometimes she looked mischievous or content. She’d smiled in amusement, but never unadulterated happiness like this.
Would she decide to stay with us when her birth family could give her something I doubted we ever could?
Damien came over and motioned to Dess like he was giving her advice on her swing. My jaw started to clench until I forced it to relax.
