Page 37 of Unexpected Redemption

Shep’s groan from the speakers matches the one across the room. “Super fucking duper, Yuri. Thanks for this lovely lesson on fictitious Greek bullshit. What’s the fucking point? And doesanyof this have a damn thing to do with Yev or Lenkov?”

“Let me explain story, Shepherd. Always in such big hurry. Just listen for once.”

Jonesy’s voice cuts in, his volume low as if trying to prevent Yuri from hearing. “Let him talk, Shep. He’s an amusing old bastard.”

Shep whispers, “This amuses you? Not all the other shit we do that’s actually fun? Butthisfucker?”

Louder now, Jonesy says, “Please continue, Yuri.”

Without missing a beat, Yuri picks up where he left off. “King Minos imprison Daedalus and Icarus for freeing brave hero of Athens. Where he keep them is surrounded by ocean. They cannot escape by land. These waters were full of King Minos ships. Only way they could find freedom was...” His words trail off, replaced by a whistle.

Shep interjects, “He was doing this to mimic flying.” He wafts his head around, eyes roaming the room in some type of hands-free flying gesture or like he’s tracking a mosquito circling above him.

“Was he losing blood at this point?” Mia snickers. “Because that sounds like loopy blood loss behavior.”

Shep laughs silently, chest shaking. “He’d stopped bleeding by then. He’s just fucking nuts.”

Yuri’s still droning on. “After a while, Daedalus became obsessed with freeing himself and his son while often watching birds fly from the window of their tower. That’s how he think of idea to make wings. And he did just that. Not only a pair for Icarus, but for himself too.”

This time, I’m the one letting loose a pissy whine. “Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker. Is he ever getting to the point?”

“Your guess is as good as ours, T,” Klein tosses while stretching his arms over his head.

“Ha ha ha,” Mia’s gigantic laugh reverberates around the room as she pauses the recording. “Christ on a Cracker. Like the Holy Ghost. The communion wafers. The body of Christ. Ha.Haaah.”

The tension pouring off me at Yuri’s annoying bullshit storytelling is instantly broken.

When the laughter dries up, Yuri’s playback resumes, and my eyes catch on the whiteboard full of names and questions. Possibilities spin through my mind at a pace far faster than Yuri’s fucking Greek Mythology Lesson. The pompous prick.

As if he’s a great orator at a podium, his jaw continues flapping despite nothing useful coming out of his fucking mouth. “He tell his son, don’t fly low because sea water will weigh down feathers. And if you go too high, heat of sun will melt wax. Stay in middle ground.” An angry snarl hides on the underside of Yuri’s tone as he seethes, “All Icarus had to do was fly straight. Do as told. But he couldn’t resist. Hubris cost his life. He was fool.”

“Stop the playback,” I order, bolting out of my chair, inspiration flooding me and allowing me to connectsomeof the dots. “Yuri doesn’t tell us tales like this without it holding significant meaning. He loves his riddles too much. It’s always a game to him. So we can assume all of this has a fucking point.”

“And?” Mia asks, jumping in as soon as I take a breath.

Shifting my line of sight to Shep, I take two steps closer to the board. “Any chance Yev is Yuri’s son?”

His head kicks back. “Maybe metaphorically, but I doubt by blood. They look nothing alike.”

Mia’s fingers fly across the keyboard, filling the air with comforting clicking sounds. “Oh, come on. Looks don’t always correlate, Shep.”

“If you’re looking for a birth certificate, you won’t find one with a father’s name on it,” I tell Mia, halting her search before she wastes her time.

“Did you seriously just try to tellmeI can’t find out who his father is?” With her upper lip curled into a snarl, she draws her fingers up in front of her face, curving them like claws, andhisses at me. “There isn’t a deadbeat dad on the planet I can’t find.”

“Knock yourself out. But you might want to?—”

Meaning no harm other than being silly, she cuts me off with another hiss, and I bust out laughing. Just flat out crack up.

Klein attempts to soothe the hell cat. “Easy, tiger.”

“Yeah, ghost. Simmer down. The men are working,” Shep says, obviously trying to get a reaction out of her.

As if choreographed, Klein and I take large steps away from Shep, both heading in different directions.

“Oh, you just made the wrong enemy, bucko.” She points two fingers at her eyes, then flips them out in Shep’s direction. “You better watch your back and your credit score. I’m coming for you.”

Shep fakes a yawn, patting his mouth three times with an open palm.

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