Page 96 of The Hitman’s Final Job
“You knew about the threat?”
“Yes. I should have told you. I get them all the time. When you work in a field where the research has monetary value, it’s a given, but it was never serious enough until recently. That’s when I told Dale about it. Remember when that company, HelixGen, tried to take over the data-gathering project?”
He nods.
“I asked Jordan to help me with this. From what you say you have in your case, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was Jordan who sent the tip. Maybe that’s how it got to you and not another agent.”
“Dad … ”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
He holds out his hand, and I take it, grateful to have his palm—a little cool, but full of life—in mine.
“Can I ask you about what I saw before I got shot? You and Silas were kissing.”
I’m unsure what to say. He was never meant to find out about us, but it seems all the secrets are coming out.
“Yes,” I say.
He’s quiet, like he’s processing it. Then, “Are you together?” he asks.
“It’s complicated.”
“It didn’t seem that complicated,” he says. “From what I saw. Which was admittedly only a few seconds before someone shot me, so my perspective might be limited.”
“Are you angry at me?” I ask, tentative.
“For kissing my best friend?”
“Yes.”
He scrunches up his nose.
“It’s a little weird,” he says finally. “I’m not going to pretend it isn’t a little weird. Silas is my best friend. You’re my dad. That’s— Yeah, that’s a little weird.”
“I know.”
“But,” he says, looking like he’s trying to hold in a laugh, “Silas has always been an old man at heart. He was twenty-two when I met him, and he acted like he was forty. When we were all together, you two always seemed to have these long conversations, and I never realized it, but it was almost like I wasn’t there.”
“Nothing ever happened until now. I need you to know that. We tried to stay apart, but we couldn’t.”
“You have a young boyfriend, Dad,” he teases.
“He’s thirty-five.”
“Young,” Rowan sing-songs.
“Rowan—”
“Does he know where to buy the soft toothbrushes for your dentures?”
“Stop,” I whine.
He almost smiles. Then the almost-smile fades.
“You said it’s complicated,” he says. “Not that it’s over.”
Our hands are suddenly the most fascinating thing in the room.
