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“Stop.” I laugh, appreciating her attempt at using teen lingo. “Look at you, looking all tan and sexy.” Her hair is swept up in her typical bun and lips painted bright red to match her hair. I can’t recall ever seeing her with a tan; she’s ghostly white or sunburned white.
She waves off the compliment. “I had a staycation at the house. Blew up a swimming pool and made me some of those fruity drinks with the little umbrellas. It was perfect.”
That’s bullshit. My smile slips. Why is she lying?
“Are you sure it’s not a Waikiki tan?”
Her eyes narrow with a questioning glance around before she grabs me by the arm. “Shhh,” she says, dragging me outside the front doors to the sidewalk. She releases me. “How in the world did you know that?”
“I was on the same plane. I’m a flight attendant.” Fear flickers in her eyes for a second before her lips break into a wide smile. I tilt my head. “Why the big secret?”
She crosses her arms, scanning both directions down the strip. “So soon you forget. If those nosey people in there”—she points to inside the restaurant—“find out, they’ll all be questioning how I can afford to go to Hawaii. They’ll all tip less.” Her lips purse as she rolls her eyes. It’s a valid reason. Hawaii isn’t a cheap vacation. “I met a man there, so I’d like to keep this between us. I can’t believe I didn’t notice you. The plane ain’t that big.”
“I was working first class the whole time.” Except for the one time I ventured out to help someone. “But that’s why I’m here. Did you by chance see a guy sitting by himself, dark hair and dark brown eyes, but his eyes were…” I take a moment to think of the perfect word. “Hollow. Like there was no life behind them.” A chill runs up my spine with the recollection.
A car door opens in the parking lot, diverting both of our attention in that direction. Paxton steps out, his intense eyes bouncing between the two of us, and his mouth in a hard line of pissed off. Pearl gasps beside me. Now, my eyes are darting from him to Pearl and back to him, waiting for someone to say something. Why is Paxton mad, and why is Pearl surprised?
“Mom. What the hell are you doing?”
Mom? Wait, what?
That is not what I was waiting for.
CHAPTER 40
Paxton
My entire life, I wondered if my parents had adopted me. While I bear a small resemblance to my dad, there’s nothing of my mom in me. Her wild, red hair is about as crazy as she is. Free-spirited, she would call it.
Kali froze, eyes wide, as she struggled to comprehend while pointing at my mom.
Yeah, my exact thoughts when I found you talking to her. That’s not Pearl; that’s not her name. It’s Elizabeth. And who knows what her last name is now?
“Get in the car, Kali,” I demand, my pulse ramping up to a thundering stampede.
“Paxxy.”
That damn nickname! I cringe, slamming my door shut to keep Riggs inside.
She rushes toward me before I can stop her, wrapping her arms around my chest. I roll my eyes, keeping mine flat against my sides. She’s putting on a show. She wasn’t this excited almost two years ago. When she was supposed to be moving to California.
This isn’t California.
Peeling myself out of her hold, I take a step next to Kali. She’s confused, as she should be, because so am I. Finally, she finds her voice.
“That’s your mom?”
Not by choice.
I nod and grab her hand. “Let’s go. Now.” She might think she knows this woman, but she has no clue.
Kali stops behind me, and our hands break free. I whirl around when I hear her say, “You never told me you had a son.” No shock there. She probably threw a party the day I left.
She hikes a shoulder. “It’s not like he ever visited me. It felt like I didn’t.” Classic victim-playing. I refuse to engage in a debate over parental responsibilities at the moment. “How do you two know each other?”
“That is none of your business,” I say before Kali can answer. I open the car door, nudge her inside, and shut the door myself, fearing she might jump out if I don’t. As I round the car, I skewer my mom with a frosty stare. “If I find out you had anything to do with Kali’s kidnapping, I’ll arrest you myself.”
I ignore Kali’s confused expression as I slam the car in reverse. The tires squeal in protest when I hit the gas. My hands tremble from rage, and my focus is laser-sharp on the road ahead.
