Chapter Sixty-Seven
Haze
We were driving back home together. Fox had left his motorbike at the charity shop. He didn’t want either of us out of his sight for a moment.
Bibi had fallen asleep as soon as he started the engine.
Fox was gripping the steering wheel. He’d muttered, “I just don’t understand,” at least three times.
Drake was following us in his car.
“We give him the keyring he’s been so desperately wanting, and then he’s once again out of my life,” I said.
“You don’t want to try and…?” Fox trailed off.
“What? Form some kind of relationship with him? God, no. He gave me his excellent bone structure, and that’s about all I’m grateful for.”
“You sure?”
“I don’t think any good can come from having him in our lives.”
It was quite something to grow up without a father, and then find him and be so brutally disappointed.
Not about the killing part—clearly, I understood that.
It was the total lack of morality. He was The Chameleon; a man who could play both sides.
He could adapt to whoever he was with to get what he wanted.
He was all about the money. There was no sense of him trying to do the right thing.
I could see that I might have got the whole not-every-life-is-sacred feeling from him, but he was a greedy, gun-for-hire killer.
We might share certain similarities, but we were not the same.
We all made our own path. Our own rules. We got to be our own people, and parent in our own way. We could find totally new ways to fuck up our kids.
I might have inherited my father’s killer instincts, but I was using my low regard for human life to take out bad men, and bad men only. I had a strict moral code and a righteous mission. He just wanted cash.
We got home, and Fox plucked a sleeping Bibi out of her car seat. He held her close to him as we walked into the house, and we went upstairs together. He transferred her gently into her bed as I reached for Dolly Dodo on her bedside table. Jenny was on her way to us with Reggie.
I heard Drake’s car pull up outside.
I took off Dolly’s necklace and went back out. Drake was leaning against his car. I handed him the keyring. He stared at it, smiled to himself, and put it in his pocket.
“Who are The Corporation?” I asked.
Drake shook his head. “How do you think I’ve lasted so long in this business? I don’t ask questions. I don’t try and uncover information that could cause me trouble. We had a special channel to communicate through, and they always paid me. That was all I needed to know.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“Enjoy retirement. I’ve used up my nine lives. To leave this job rich and breathing is all I’ve ever wanted.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “I didn’t want it to go like this.”
I looked down at it.
Click-click.
Drake turned at the noise. A tall man with black hair was photographing us. He clocked us looking, and ran to a parked black moped. He hopped on it and sped off.
“Do you know him?”
A black moped. The man following Fox the other day.
“Mario. He works for The Corporation.” Drake got into his car and started the engine. “He shows them the photos, and this is bad for us both.”
He accelerated away before I could ask him what he was planning on doing.
Jenny arrived with Reggie fifteen minutes later.
I put him to bed after several kisses all over his sleeping head, and joined Jenny and Fox at the kitchen table.
Two glasses of whiskey and a Bailey’s were waiting.
I pointed out that, as no one was actually dead, this was technically against Fox’s rules. He shrugged and downed his drink.
I shook my head. “I can’t be half French.”
“I can believe it,” said Jenny.
“You have that, you know…” Fox trailed off.
Jenny butted in. “That haughty air? That sense that you think you’re better than everyone else? That way of saying no just to be difficult?”
“Merde.” I took a glug of whiskey.