Page 8 of Girl Between (Dana Gray FBI Mystery Thriller #5)

He only had a moment to admire the collection of books and musical instruments before Luca brought over the espresso he’d kindly offered upon inviting Jake inside. Picking up the fragile porcelain cup, Jake did his best to feign calm as he inhaled the fragrant aroma of java and hazelnut.

Thankfully, Luca spoke first. “I assume you’re here to inquire about my father.”

“What makes you say that?” Jake asked.

Luca nodded to the weapon tucked discreetly against Jake’s hip. “Your firearm, your accent. You’re American. FBI or CIA if I had to guess.”

“Good guess,” Jake said, not ready to give too much away.

“My father was an American pilot.”

“Was?” Jake said, trying not to betray his nerves.

Luca nodded. “After moving here, he flew for the Armée de l'air et de l'espace. His plane was shot down over twenty years ago over the Red Sea. He and his crew were never recovered. ”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Jake said, offering the obligatory response.

“Was it my loss alone?” Luca inquired, his identical blue eyes searing into Jake’s.

Jake set his empty coffee cup down. “I came to France in search of my father, Adam Miller. He was a pilot in the United States Air Force. But I haven’t seen him in over twenty years.”

“What made you seek him out now?” Luca asked.

“My mother,” Jake admitted, surprising himself with his candor.

Luca nodded with an understanding. If Jake had to guess, the man was only two years younger than him at most, but his demeanor spoke of wisdom beyond his years. It made Jake want to pry, but his own proclivities prevented him.

“Pardon my bluntness,” Luca said, “but am I to assume the men we speak of as fathers are one and the same?”

Here it was. Spelled out so simply. Yet everything inside Jake fought against the answer.

He didn’t know why. It’s the reason he’d come to France, after all.

But faced with it head on, so black and white, he felt like the same helpless child his father had always reduced him to.

It made Jake despise the man even more. Swallowing his agitation, Jake asked, “Do you have a photograph?”

“Yes.” Luca stood to retrieve a silver frame from the mantel.

He strode back to the sofa and took a seat before handing the black and white still to Jake.

Military training was the only thing that kept Jake’s face neutral as he stared at the man in the photograph.

He ignored the fact that it was a wedding photo and focused only on the man grinning back at him.

The taunting smile seemed to say, I’ll never be finished tormenting you.

“Your parents?” Jake asked, his voice level enough to hide his emotion.

“Oui,” Luca answered.

“Do you have any siblings, or is it just you?”

“Just me, I’m afraid,” Luca admitted. “My father died shortly after they married,” he said, nodding to the photo. “I never met him. ”

Jake refrained from telling him he was lucky. Instead, he offered, “My condolences.” But Luca didn’t seem to want them.

“I’ll ask you again, Monsieur Shepard, do we speak of the same man when we say, father?”

Unable to avoid the truth any further, Jake nodded.

Luca swallowed, visibly shaken. “So that makes us, half-brothers?”

Jake tried to fight the foreign notion of kinship that instantly filled his veins, but it wouldn’t change the facts. The familiar face staring back at him was his flesh and blood. So, Jake did the only thing he could. Extending his hand he said, “I’m afraid so.”

Luca took Jake’s hand, his blue eyes boring into him. “I think we need something stronger than coffee.”