Page 6 of Danger Close
I laughed. “Yeah, that’s his spy name. Horrible isn’t it?”
“What was your spy name?”
“Tim Smith.” She looked almost disappointed with my answer. “It’s no Brett Bradley, but it’s common enough to slip into government databases unnoticed, but not so common that it sounds fake like John Smith, ya know?”
“It’s no Trinity Blaze Guerro?” she said, lifting her eyes. “Was my name your idea, or Mama’s?”
“Mine, kiddo. You’re welcome.” I thought the name I gave her had been inspired! But what counted as inspiration to a twenty-year-old boy sounded like pure idiocy to a fifty-year-old man. Thankfully, the name suited her.
“Is Director Roland Griffith cool with his oldest son getting hitched in that short of a time?” I was surprised that the Griffiths signed off on that. Society weddings were over-the-top networking events.
Trinity shrugged, leaning against her black Ducati.
“Griff doesn’t want to wait, and we have a perfectly adequate venue right here.” She waved towards the general direction of where First Sergeant McClanahan, retired, and Charlotte had a hundred-acre farm. “It’s secure, so all of his guests can come.”
“His guests?” I grunted as I replaced the oil plug on my bike. “You mean the President of the United States, Davis Lau. Your fiancé’s godfather?”
Taz shrugged, her expression telling me that this was exactly what she meant.Well, I’ll be damned.Then she fidgeted with the hem of her leather jacket, stressing it with her nervous hands.
“Do you want to walk me down the aisle?” Then in one long run-on sentence she blurted, “I know it’s a dumb custom, but I didn’t want his side of the family to think I was weird by walking down by myself, and they’re already mad at the rush, so I thought...”
She took a deep breath, her shoulders slumped.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to.” She dug the toe of her boot into the ground, suddenly fascinated by a small pebble on the dirt, rolling it back and forth under her foot. “It’s no big deal.”
Oh, it was obviously a gargantuan deal.
“Of course, I want to, kiddo.” I’d want nothing more than to do exactly that. But something nagged at me. A simple thought. A face I hadn’t seen in decades.
I ran my hands through my graying hair, probably getting oil in it. I had to ask. I had to know… “What’s your Ma think?”
I didn’t even know what Taz called her Teresa. Was she Mom? Mother? Mommy? Or did they go with the FrenchMaman?I should figure that out.
“Mama…” my kid said, slowly, before she deflated with a long sigh, “doesn’t know.”
I almost dropped the fill plug I’d been fidgeting with. “Come again?”
I’d been fighting the urge to electronically surveille my own kid.
I wanted to get to know her, and for years, if I needed information on someone, I’d just hack into their shit. There was nothing that couldn’t be found in the netherworld of the internet. There was no server so secure that we could not exploit it. It didn’t matter if it was Russian, American, or North Korean.
But hacking was a matter of time, persistence and opportunity. If I’d wanted to… but I wouldn’t. Because thatwould be wrong.
Or at least, that’s what I’d been told every time one of my targets looked at me, wide eyes full of hurt as I weaponized every single dirty secret they’d hidden away on their phones before I killed them.
No. I didn’t do that kind of shit anymore. No more spying, no more killing. No more keeping secrets.
My daughter and I would have a relationship that blossomed organically, and I’d respect her boundaries. I would not create a packet on her the way I would a person of interest.
I was going to be a normal, carefree, retired civilian now.
Until she said, “Mama doesn’t know.”
In a calm, even tone, I asked clarifying questions, “That you’re getting married? Or that you’ve asked me to give you away?”
She winced. “Both?”
“Is that a question or a statement, kiddo?” I stood up, putting my hands on my hips. The air shifted with my movement, my ownscent caught the light breeze, flying to my own nostrils. I smelled like motor oil.
