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“Cool. Jessica should be on her way as well. Let’s get out of here.” I rolled my eyes and stepped over the hump on the floor before following him out the door.
“Did she come up with this on her own, or did you guide her?”
“Nope, it was all her idea. She’s getting really good, don’t you think?” I just looked at him and kept moving. I’m trying to keep my kid as a ten-year-old, and this fuck is always looking for ways to give her free rein.
“When she starts testing her mind control bullshit on you idiots, don’t come crying to me.”
“She had to start somewhere. Let’s see how it goes.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. You don’t know my kid the way you think you do. If it works, she’ll do it all the time. If it doesn’t work, she won’t stop until she gets it right.”
“Nothing is going to go wrong; she’ll be fine. We have everything in place to make sure she’s taken care of. Besides, you’re here to help her along; she’ll be okay.”
Yeah, but she’s ten fucking years old. I’m now beginning to see why Char did what she did more and more. As an adult, I could do without this shit; as a kid, I would’ve lost my shit.
Even though my kid seems to enjoy pushing herself to the limit to see what all she’s capable of, I’m afraid of the day she regrets wasting her youth. That balance I’ve been fighting for since realizing that she was the one who inherited my shit is leaning more and more in the opposite direction these days.
It's as simple as that. I’m just a man trying his damnedest to give his kid the best childhood he can, knowing better than anyone else what’s going on inside her head. When my five-year-old started reading ancient philosophies and quoting fucking Sun Tzu, I knew there was going to be trouble.
That’s only one of the reasons I didn’t fight against the organization when Mancini came calling. I had no idea they existed before then or that it had anything to do with me because I’d learned over time how to quell my abilities so I could live some semblance of normal.
Mengele doesn’t give a fuck. She embraces it all. But I know she can burn out or, worse, lose her fucking mind. The only one other than myself who knows exactly what she is is the pothead; even she doesn’t know because I haven’t told her. But she knows that I know.
So we play this game and dance this dance while I stand between her and everything else, which I will do until my last breath. The one thing I won’t do is stop her from doing what she wants. I could try to slow her down some when she rushes full steam ahead, but with each new development, I’m going to be there to guide her. The day that stops is the day the known world is fucked.
“What is it that you’re really afraid of Colt?”
“Take a wild guess.”
“If I had to, I would say you fear that she is worse than you. Why do you think that?”
“Because she’s a fucking living, breathing weapon.”
EPILOGUE
“Well, that’s just not fair.” I glared over at him, which he ignored.
“What’s not fair about it?” He’s being so calm that I want to slap him one. I guess that’s the hormones talking because the next second, I regretted even having the thought.
“I just want to know what’s happening. Why can’t I know?” I sounded like a petulant child but didn’t care.
“Because there’s nothing else you need to know.” He had finally taken my cloned phone along with everything else Cierra had sent me, so now I had no way of staying in touch secretly or knowing what was going on.
He did have a point, at least partially, because I had all the answers I needed as far as where we were concerned. For one, Jack had given up the fact that one of his modus operandi was signing himself into rehab centers for the wealthy and targeting those he found to be the weakest.
Trudy wasn’t exactly chosen randomly; he or someone he works with knew who she was and what her connection to me was. Because she was always either high or drunk, even at rehab, it was easy for him to talk her into recommending him, and the rest is history.
What I didn’t know is that my husband knew what was going on from the beginning and still hired him anyway. He didn’t involve me because he never had any plans to until the day he saw me taking his picture from my car. Knowing that he pretty much knew what I was up to from the get-go is still something I’m trying to wrap my head around. Though, he claims that there were times when he gave me space and didn’t try to tap into my thoughts.
Now I have to live with him always on my ass, even more than usual. But what is usual, come to think of it? I believe him when he says he doesn’t spy on me or eavesdrop on my life and that he would only do that if I was in danger. The fact that he would even know is something I’m learning to deal with.
“Still, I don’t think it’s fair that I don’t get to see this thing through to the end.”
“Do you want to see what happened at the end?”
“What do you mean?” We were sitting up in bed reading, him something for work and me this new age book on home delivery.
Mark had already vetoed the idea, and at this point, I’m just reading it to get under his skin because I don’t think I would trust giving birth to multiples anywhere other than a hospital with a full staff on deck.
