He pulled out his phone again.
No reply. No missed calls.
It was time to phone a friend.
He tapped into his recent calls and hit Shane’s number. Paxton couldn’t remember speaking to Shane more than a handful of times before this trip. Now, it seemed like next to Silas, Shane was the guy Paxton spoke to the most. Hell, if it weren’t for the open invitation to anyone working for Aegis Group to come help after the wedding, Paxton doubted he’d been on the invite list at all. And that would mean not being around to meet Coco that first day or save her from the snipers or look for her tonight.
The line barely rang.
“Hey,” Shane said.
“Is Lacey with you?”
“Yeah. She’s right here. What’s up?”
“Has she seen Coco? Is she with you guys?” Paxton hadn’t considered that possibility. Coco had been avoiding her friend.
“Lacey?” The line rustled a bit as Shane spoke to his now wife. “It’s Pax. Have you seen Coco? I’m putting this on speaker.”
“What? No,” Lacey said, her voice growing louder and clearer. A note of worry struck in her voice. So it wasn’t just Paxton who thought this was weird. “When did you last see her?”
Paxton shoved his hand through his hair. “Just after we unloaded. I had to go—”
“Okay.” She drew the one word out a few beats. “You checked her place, the pangolin enclosures—”
“Yes,” he snapped, his frustration reaching a breaking point.
“Hm. Have you stopped by the canteen?”
“The canteen?” Did he even know where that was?
“Yeah.” Lacey blew out a breath. “She’s been avoiding Mrs. P for a bit. If she was upset and if you and I were busy or whatever, I could see her going there.”
“Okay, then that’s where I’m headed.” Paxton paused at a row of signs, searching for the canteen on the map.
“Will you let me know if you find her? If you don’t, we’re coming back.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” His words didn’t ease the knots in his stomach.
“You’ve met my Coco.” Lacey chuckled, but it was strained with no humor at all. “Call us back.”
“Will do.”
Paxton had met Coco. He’d gotten to know her, and her passion blinded her to her safety. She didn’t value her own well-being enough for his tastes. What good did a head full of knowledge and a heart full of determination do if she got herself killed?
He turned, heading in the direction of the main building, and slid his phone into his pocket. Given his limited knowledge of Coco’s history, he didn’t think it was absurd to fear someone retaliating against her for the work she did preserving animal lives. She was memorable, taking her down would be eliminating an icon, send a message. Yeah, he didn’t like her disappearance one bit.
The door leading to the canteen was well worn, the paint chipping from around the handle. It was clear this place saw a lot of traffic.
He grasped the handle and pulled it open, stepping into the dimply lit room.
A coffee cart sat up against the wall on his right. A few hundred sugar packets lay scattered on the floor. But it was the two women sitting across from each other at one of the long, cafeteria style tables that stood out to him. Well, one, actually. The room could have been full of people and he’d only have seen her.
Coco sat with her hands cradling a mug, her face creased with emotions.
She was okay.
He stopped and met their gazes and got the distinct impression that he’d interrupted something.
“Hello, ladies.” He knelt and scooped up the packets.
“Hey, what time is it?” Coco slid off her chair and turned toward the adjacent wall.
“Time for all good little girls to go to bed.” The other woman braced her hands on the table and pushed up with a groan.
Paxton finished collecting the sugar packets and set the container on the top. He glanced at the woman. Was this Mrs. P?
She was a shapely, older woman with a mass of salt and pepper braids bound back off her face. Her black apron carried the stains of the day, protecting the lavender dress she wore under it. She was looking at Paxton with the same kind of interest he gave her.
“And who is this fine young man?” she asked.
“Oh, sorry.” Coco winced and gestured at him. “Mrs. Pedersen, this is Paxton.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” He crossed the room and offered Mrs. P his hand. From what he’d gathered, next to Coco’s mother and her mentor, Mrs. P was one of the few guiding lights in Coco’s life. He was glad to put a face to the name, and that Coco was here.
A slow smile spread across Mrs. P’s face and she clasped his hand in both of hers. “You’ve got a good spirit, don’t you?”
“Uh, I hope so, ma’am.”
Mrs. P wagged her finger at him. “I like this one.”
Coco came to stand at Paxton’s side. Her shoulders drooped and her eyes were puffy. He peered down at her, wanting to know what happened, but unsure if he should pry.
Mrs. P nodded at Coco. “Do me a favor and make sure she gets home okay?”
“I can do that, ma’am.”
“Ma’am.” Mrs. P clucked her tongue and shook her head, a dazzling smile spread across her face. She gathered the two mugs. “Looking at you two makes me feel old. Go on, get out of here.”
Paxton turned toward Coco, studying her face as if he could find answers written there. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He reached over and placed his hand on her back, guiding her toward the door. “Good night, Mrs. P.”
The older woman waved them off without another word.
Paxton opened the door, shadowing Coco out into the night. She remained silent, thoughtful, withdrawn. Since he didn’t know what he should say or do, he tapped off a quick text to Shane to let them know Coco was fine and they were turning in. That done, he silenced his phone and focused on her.
The deep thought lines on her brow coupled with the thousand-yard stare concerned him. Paxton had the irrational urge to fix whatever was bothering her, but had no idea where to start or if it was his place to interfere. Coco was a quiet person. She didn’t necessarily like people, including him, prying into her life.
He reached over and took her hand, content to wait her out.
She swallowed and glanced at their joined hands, then gave him a squeeze.
What the hell was he going to do when it was time to leave?
In the back of his mind a voice whispered, it was always going to end this way.
The rational thing to do would be to distance himself. This was always going to be a vacation fling. And yet, he didn’t see how he could be with Coco in any capacity and not feel something for her. He’d rather have this than nothing.
In an odd way, they were similar. He recognized himself in Coco in the strangest ways. They might look totally dissimilar, but on the inside, they were both searching for a place to belong. And they’d found each other, even if only for a little while.
“My brother showed up.” Her raspy voice sounded strange to his ears.
“What?” He frowned and drew up the bits he knew about her twin.
“It’s all so fucked up.” She groaned and sidestepped into him, their shoulders bumping. “So first, he shows up asking me to come to his wedding. I yell at him. He leaves. Doesn’t clap back or anything, he just leaves. Then Mrs. Pedersen tells me he was in on the push to get the scholarship.” She peered up at him. “She said everyone was in on it.”
“I could see it.” He wasn’t the least bit surprised. Each research team he’d spoken to only had good things to say about her, how hard she worked, what a great job she did. There wasn’t a single negative thing out there.
“What?” She pulled her hand from his and scowled.
“What do you mean what?”
She shook her head and shoved her hands in her pockets. “I keep thinking the dir
ector of Mlilo is going to fire me. Now I find out she recommends me.”
Paxton rolled her words around. He’d been there, certain that the guys in his unit didn’t like him, that he was alone despite being part of a team. Even joining Aegis Group had taken some convincing because he just wasn’t their type of guy and he knew it. Or he’d thought he’d known it until he accepted the job offer and really got to know the guys.
“When you grow up apart from everyone, it’s hard to see how you fit in.” He turned, and they strolled up the lane toward her house.
“What do you mean?”
“You said you spent a lot of your years growing up alone because you didn’t fit anywhere, right?”
“Yeah. But some of that was intentional. When we were kids and Mom left Dad, it was still illegal for us to be her kids.” She tipped her chin up and stared at the sky. “When we were really little, she split a flat with this prostitute who had a kid, too. She’d look after us during the day, and Mom had the nights. We were never allowed out of the flat.”
Paxton stared at her profile, taking the story in. Man, did he ever relate.
“Well, because of my dad, a lot of kids wouldn’t speak to me. They were told to not play with me. When my mom kept me home from school because she was lonely or couldn’t take me, no one came to make sure I went to school. Later on, when she went back to work at the bar, I spent most of my time in the storeroom with a TV, empty bottles and crates to play with. No kids. Being alone like that, it does something to you.” He glanced at her. This was one of those things that they had in common, that defied geographic and racial boundaries. “We aren’t made to be alone, even if that’s how we were raised. We’re so focused on what we’re doing we don’t realize we’ve become part of something bigger than ourselves.”
Coco’s eyes widened. “Your mom kept you home from school?”
Was that all she’d heard?
“Yeah.” Paxton turned and gestured up the stairs leading to her little house.
She took one step up then turned to look down at him. “And the school let her?”
“They were afraid of my dad.”
Coco blinked at him.
Had he not explained his father well enough in the beginning?
“I don’t understand.” She turned and proceeded to her front door, unlocked it and stepped inside.
Paxton followed slower, aware that he was very likely walking into a discussion he wasn’t going to enjoy.
Coco was in the bedroom, changing out of her jeans and long sleeves. He did the same, stripping down and donning a pair of shorts with a T-shirt.
Where did he start if she asked?
Given what she’d shared about her own story, it was fair he answer any of her questions. Just like her, the past was not a place he wanted to live. It haunted him some nights. The things he’d seen, what had been done to him, it was all in his head.
Coco cornered him in the bathroom, watching him wash his face. She’d freed her hair and put on the oversized sleep shirt with a pair of shorts.
“Your dad wasn’t a good person,” she said softly.
Paxton swiped the washrag over his face one last time. “No, he was not.”
“Was he... Last night...?” She stared up at him, the thought lines deeper as she tried to muddle through the pieces he’d shared.
He swallowed.
So much for postponing their later-talk indefinitely.
Paxton took a deep breath then turned to face her. He hoped she could see he wasn’t his father. Just because they shared blood didn’t mean they were anything alike. At least that was the truth Paxton was still struggling to believe. Sometimes, when he looked in the mirror, he saw that old bastard staring back. “My dad is the worst kind of person. He did things—terrible things—to my mom, me, whoever, because he could.”
“And last night...?”
He opened his mouth to answer honestly, but his throat wouldn’t work. He couldn’t bring himself to explain it, to speak that evil here. This place, with her, it was good. His Dad couldn’t infect them here. “Let’s just say, I saw too much growing up. What he forced my mom to do. Can we leave it at that?”
Coco’s jaw dropped and her eyes went wide. Even without saying it, she got it. “Oh—I—Pax...”
He glanced at the window and considered throwing himself out of it. Would he even fit?
She grasped his hand and stepped in close, her other arm going around his waist. “Maybe we should talk about it?”
“I’d prefer not to.”
“Not like, in detail, but... I don’t want to bring up stuff like that, you know?”
It was the tenderness in her voice that undid him. No judgment. No blame. Just, how do we work around this?
He nodded and gave her a gentle squeeze. The rational side of his head said that was smart. Pointing out the pitfalls would prevent moments like last night from happening. He certainly didn’t want to relive those moments if he could keep from it. The scars were already on his soul and body. He just wanted to get past it. The other side of his head didn’t want to acknowledge his demons at all. He’d sat through therapy sessions and poked at the shadows of his past to know that they would always plague him. This was what he lived with.
Coco took his hand and glanced up at him, those beautiful, warm eyes of hers drew him in. He knew in that moment he’d tell her whatever she wanted to know. Even if it destroyed their budding bond.
Instead of sitting on opposite ends of the sofa as they’d been accustomed do, she pushed him down then sat next to him, tucking herself up against his side and guiding his arm around her. The scent of her hair products was new. He’d never smelled anything quite like it, light and floral, totally her. It was like she knew he needed a physical anchor for this conversation.
What had he been doing when Silas asked him questions about the past?
Oh.
Right.
They’d been at the gun range.
Paxton still had what was left of those targets somewhere in an envelope. He’d done some seriously great shooting.
He bent his head and inhaled Coco’s scent again, rooting himself in the now then kissed her shoulder where the neckline gaped.
“Talk to me,” she whispered.
Where did he begin? How much did he tell her?
“I don’t—oral. Me doing it is fine, but not the other way around.” His mind went blank, dampening the memories from coming back to the forefront.
“Okay. And no alcohol. I got those two.” She slid her hand up his chest and neck into his hair. She gave it a little tug until he lifted his head and met her gaze. “What else?”
“That’s it, really.” She didn’t have the necessary equipment to trip his other memories.
Her gaze searched his face.
Did she doubt him? Fear him?
Paxton’s insides writhed. “I wouldn’t hurt you. You know that, right?”
“Of course I do.” There was no hesitating. She even snorted and one side of her mouth hitched up, as if it was totally absurd to think him capable of harming her. “I’ve run across enough bad ones. I can see a good one.”
He wasn’t good, but he tried. That was what mattered, wasn’t it?
Paxton stroked his hand down her leg curled up against his thigh. He was ready to stop talking about him and focus on her. “Tonight was tough. You okay?”
“Not really.” Her gaze went distant again. “Utata’s horn is probably gone. This other group? Bekker’s crew, they’re way more dangerous.”
“We know what we’re doing.”
Her head snapped up at that and she stared at him. “I don’t want you messing with them, understand?”
Paxton picked up her hand and kissed her palm. He wasn’t promising anything like that. Those people had set a trap and fired at her. That wasn’t allowed. No one was going to hurt her. Not even him.
That seemed to appease Coco. She relaxed against him. “Mrs. P wants me to rethink the scholarship.”
“Oh?” Paxton was in favor of that plan. He knew school would take years, but having her a few hours away rather than half a world away was a hell of a lot better on their chances.
“I just... I don’t know.”
He kept his thoughts to himself. She was thinking about it. That was what mattered. The rest could be figured out in time. But she had to want it first. None of them could make Coco do a damn thing if she didn’t want to.
WERE COCO’S GUT reasons for not accepting the scholarship really wrapped up in Cane?
She laid her head on Paxton’s shoulder, Mrs. Pedersen’s words playing on repeat.
Why hadn’t Cane told her about his involvement with the scholarship?
It wasn’t like he was actually paying her back. She knew he wouldn’t have the money for that. But he had reached out on her behalf to fix this mess.
“What are you thinking?” Paxton whispered.
“About Cane.” She kissed his shoulder then glanced up at him.
There was a wariness in Paxton’s eyes, the kind she saw in wild-caught animals who didn’t understand their surroundings. She always loved setting those free. But she didn’t know what to do for Paxton. She was beginning to understand some of his silence, the looks, his hesitation. He hadn’t come out and said it, but she knew the shadows an abusive family left on a person and could assume the rest.
“And you,” she whispered.
She reached over and put her hand over his.
“Mom remarried briefly when Cane and I were about to be ten. She said it was a whirlwind romance sort of thing. She just...fell for him. Problem was, she didn’t really know him. She turned up pregnant with my little brother, married the guy, and then for about eight months we lived in hell.”
The arm around her shoulders tightened. For her, the story was mostly vague, barely there memories. Mom had shielded them from the worst of it.
“He hated us. See, he was Zulu and Mom was Xhosa. That doesn’t mean anything to you.” She shook her head. “He wanted a very traditional, stay at home, do his bidding kind of wife. That’s not who my mom is.”
“What happened?” Paxton asked softly.
“She tried to make it work. I mean, she’d just had her third child. We were living with her family again at the time. Having him meant more income, our own home.” Coco stared at the floor. That night. She could still hear their voices yelling if she thought about it long enough. “He came home and dinner was cold or something. She’d been back at work. The baby was crying. I know Cane and I came out to try to stop them fighting. He pushed Cane and I on the floor and took off his belt. That’s when Mom went after him with a fly swatter.”
Dangerous Heat (Aegis Group, #8) Page 18
