“That’s right. I remember now.” The smirking increased. “She’s Daniel’s mother, ain’t that right?”
“And?’ What was the jackass up to? He obviously knew who Muriel was.
“Rumor has it, you, Wolf, and Samuel all grew up together. Went to the same school and everythin.’ Bein’ she’s Samuel’s twin, she would have grown up alongside ya’ll.” He paused, before adding with slow deliberation, “If memory serves, Daniel was nineteen. Which would put his birth not long after you three left high school.”
There was a question in the southern drawl. Aiden must have told him what Muriel said in front of the clinic. Man, the squids were a bunch of gossipy old hens.
“If you want to know if Daniel was my kid, just fucking ask.” O’Neill snapped.
“Was he?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out. That’s why I’m here.”
“Shit on a stick. You don’t know?” Rawlings clapped him on the shoulder and started walking again. “I hope for your sake the kid wasn’t yours. Kinda horrible to find out you’re a father after your kid’s already passed.”
That was something they could agree on.
“Come on,” Rawlings picked up his pace. “I’ll take you to Samuel’s place.”
The dude’s voice was cheerful again. Apparently, they’d blown past all the ice and silent accusations. Did that mean he had a bunk again?
All but one of the cars in the illuminated parking area were gone. The lone vehicle, a Jeep, beeped—its lights flashing—when Rawlings pulled out a key fob.
“Tell me you didn’t buy that damn thing because it matched your eyes.” O’Neill scoffed as he stared at the bright blue paint job.
“Moi?” Somehow, amidst all his smirking, the former SEAL managed to look hurt. “Of course not.” He paused, his grin overpowering the fake hurt. “That was Faithy.” He shrugged. “What can I say? The woman loves my eyes.”
O’Neill rolled his own eyes so hard they stung, but followed the former SEAL to the Jeep. He still didn’t know where Samuel lived. If the squid wanted to act as an Uber, why stop him?
They left the parking lot, turning right onto a snow-packed road. O’Neill stared out the window, watching endless acres of spruce trees, their branches grasping at the dark sky, roll past. Periodically, between gaps in the tree line, the twinkle of lights appeared. Must be houses back there.
“How many people live here?” O’Neill asked. The volume of lights twinkling amid the trees surprised him. He hadn’t realized that so many from Shadow Mountain had made The Neighborhood their home.
“A couple hundred now.” Rawlings turned onto a smaller, single lane road. “With more folks buildin’ every spring. Faith says she can extend the shield if we start feelin’ cramped. Course, most of Shadow Mountain’s warriors follow Wolf’s example and make do with base quarters. ‘Parently a rustic life is part and parcel of the Kalikoia way.”
O’Neill snorted. Rustic? Hell, the base provided its warriors with everything from a movie theater to saunas to a full-servicetraining room and a fucking indoor obstacle course. Even the base cafeteria was above par, offering the best grub he’d ever eaten, at least when it came to military bases.
Rustic in no way described the life Wolf’s warriors lived.
Rawlings turned a corner and bumped his way down a rutted lane. Lights blinked between the trees surrounding the driveway. The Jeep turned another corner, and the trees fell away, exposing a single-story ranch house with an attached double garage.
Rawls pulled up to the stairs leading up to a small porch and parked the Jeep. “Here you go.”
O’Neill just sat there, reluctant to climb out and face the biggest mistake of his life.
“Give me your phone.” Rawlings turned toward him and held out his hand.
“Why?”
With a long-suffering sigh, Rawlings wiggled his outstretched fingers. “So, I can drop my number in your phone contacts.
“I’ll do it.” He reached into his tactical pants and pulled out his phone.
Rawling leaned back and shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He rattled off the number before O’Neill even booted up his phone. The bastard was trying to trip him up. But O’Neill calmly typed the number into his contacts list and tagged it with asshole.
“Read it back to me,” the ass demanded as soon as O’Neill’s fingers stopped moving.
Ignoring the request, O’Neill pushed open his door. On the plus side, Rawlings antics went a long way toward encouraging him to leave the Jeep, regardless of how reluctant he was to have this conversation with Muriel.
