Page 5 of Thirst

“Okay, Paxton, if you want to play it like that,” he laughs, nodding to another parent. “If you want Ignatius to graduate this year, you better meet me halfway.”

I want to tell him my knee is going to meet his balls all the way, instead I bite on the inside of my cheek and say, “See you in two weeks,” keeping my voice level, as I watch him walk away.

“Fuck,” I swear. Making my way to the edge of town where James Bonds and Sons is located. I need to make a plan for how to take douche Kyle on. “It’s on, fucker,” I spit out, passing a couple cars. I glance in my rearview mirror as I zip through traffic, and brush my mess of curly dark hair behind my ear.

I park the car and stare at the sign above the door of the old dock house. The Sons part bringing a big smile to my face. Dad still likes to pretend I’m a boy. There aren’t many cars in the lot. Two from guys who’ve been doing this job for thirty years. Old-timers like my father who can’t seem to give up the badge.

I grab my bag before I turn the corner, and I bite back a big, “Fuck me,” eyeing the black car parked in the best spot. I recognize my ex’s ride anywhere.

Once inside, I pass Dottie, our seventy-year-old secretary. “All good, kiddo? You look like you want to murder someone.” Her thick Southern drawl makes me feel at ease instantly.

Shaking my head, I ask, “Any messages, Dot?”

“Nope, honey.”

Staring at the open office floor I smile. Everyone is busy talking on the phone or going through stacks of files. My dad kept the old industrial feel of the building, we even got a map of the world on the wall where Dottie keeps track where everyone is any given day. I’m glad I got the family to agree to change the way we hunt. Most of our targets are now slowly but surely becoming big time offenders. Child molesters, rapists, and scumbags on the FBI Most Wanted list.

“You do have a visitor in your mom’s office, darling. Thatman you dated,” she says, not trying to hide her disdain for my ex-boyfriend before answering a call.

Winking, I blow her a kiss and knock on my mom’s door. “Come in,” she grumbles. She didn’t like Derick one bit either when they came to visit me in Paris where I met him. I frown thinking about it; my dad and brothers weren’t fans either. Derick graduated from Harvard and was a third generation CIA after a stint at Interpol. He comes from money, and isn’t afraid to flaunt it.

I push the door open and grind my teeth, my ex-boyfriend is indeed sitting in front of her desk. “Pax,” he says in greeting. His eyes dart up and down my body.

“Derick,” I answer, crossing my arms in front of my chest. His eyes linger a little bit too long on my cleavage peeking from the black shirt I’m wearing. Fuck men.

“Paxton, Officer Henderson has an assignment for you,” Mom says, reclining back in her seat. She tucks a strand of red hair behind her ear, and raises one brow at me, indicating for me to listen and not slap the son of a bitch for swapping me out for some blonde Newport bimbo—not that I cared. Iggy and he didn’t get along.

“Why does the CIA need my help?” I grit out, taking the last sip from my coffee.

His mouth twitches as he hands me a thick file. “We need to stop a fugitive, and since you’re one of the best trackers there is, I thought of you,” he says, clearly trying to flatter me.

I scan the file, my eyes catching on the picture of the target I’m supposed to track down. You can only see his profile but holy fuck. My palms start to sweat, and my heart skips a beat. This hasn’t happened to me before, I think, staring at the grainy picture.

“His name is Salvatore Corlean,” he begins, “but he also goes by Padre.”

And now I remember. There has been a rumor going around, some secret organization is taking out prominent rich guys, CEOs of big corporations, all with ties to some shady deals involving anything from guns, diamonds, underage kids, to pollution. The man at the head is rumored to be called Padre, so that name sure as shit rings a bell.

“Hold up, you mean the Padre? You want me to hunt down one of the world’s most notorious hitmen. I thought the guy was a myth?” I ask, raising my voice. I throw the file back at him. “You are out of your fucking mind. I have a son. I’m not about to put him or myself on the line.”

“Paxton,” Mom warns before we get interrupted by Dottie. Mom heads out the door to follow Dot, but not before giving me a reassuring wink. Mom knows I can hold my own; I learned from the best. With a thud, the door closes and we’re alone.

“I know you and your son are in a good place,” he begins, turning toward me. “And I’m sorry for what happened in Paris. I know we had plans and I fucked it up,” he says; his voice smooth like the lizard he is. He’s even wearing a five-thousand-dollar suit and matching watch to complete the picture.

“Save your bullshit, Derick. I’ve moved on.”

“Yeah, with a string of hicks you pick up every Friday night at the local bar,” he says, reaching out to tuck a stray lock behind my ear.

“Go fuck yourself,” I bite out, taking a step back. “At least they know how to make me come, something you never did get the hang of,” I counter, raising a brow.

He runs a hand through his blond hair, and the muscle in his jaw ticks. “I didn’t come here to fight with you. This guy,” he mumbles, handing me the file back, “needs to be brought in dead or alive, emphasis on dead. He killed my partner,” he says after a beat, locking eyes with me. I know by the look in his eyes he means every word, he wants me to kill him.

“I’m sorry about your partner, but you’re the freaking CIA, don’t you have your minions to track him, or some drone to take him out?” I ask, trying to ignore the moisture forming in his eyes. Is he playing me?

“We do, but you can go in legit. We aren’t supposed to be operating on American soil. This needs to be on the down low. I protected you all those years; don’t you forget it.”

“You think he would stay in one place? Where was the picture taken?” I ask, scanning the file. “Freaking Alaska? He could have easily skipped to another state or country already,” I say, ignoring his last remark.

“Pax, you owe me. I was the one who gave you fake passports remember. I kept that psycho away from you.”

---