Page 88 of Saxon

Saxon snorts. "Don't even think about it. That's Camilla's baby. Don't even breathe near it."

"I'm not going to. Just appreciating."

He shakes his head as we approach the Rover. "Still odd to me that you like cars. I mean, I know women can like cars. I've just never met one that did."

"It is a little weird. But I guess it's because working on cars was the one time my father ever acted like a dad. I treasured the times he was sober enough to wrench with me. You'd think I'd associate cars with my father in a negative way, but …I don't, for whatever reason."

"You have one?"

"A car?" I cackle. "Hell no. I can barely afford food and rent." His eyes search me and ask questions his mouth doesn't. "I'm successful. I have a lot of clients. Regular business. I'm actually gonna have to do some ass-kissing when this is settled to make up for missing deadlines with my current pieces. But…yeah, keeping Dad in rehab and halfway houses just cleans me out."

"Not anymore."

"He's not your responsibility, Saxon."

"Yeah, and he's not yours, either. You don't owe him shit. He owes you. But regardless, that shit is handled." He shrugs. "No matter what happens between us, it's handled. Same with the accounts I made for Emily and Tom. It doesn't work between us for whatever reason, that doesn’t go away. It's not conditional."

I shake my head because I'm choked up. "Whatever."

The parking garage lets out on a busy street, requiring Saxon to wait for a couple of minutes before traffic clears enough to pull out.

A few minutes later, his bag of guns rings.

"Can you get that?" he asks.

I twist and rummage through the guns and clips—excuse me, magazines—until I find a small flip phone—a very old-school dumb phone.

I flip it open. "Hello? Saxon Cabot’s secret burner phone."

Saxon snorts, and the laugh on the other end is Camilla's. "You're a funny one, Terra. My source has confirmed Jarrod's destination: an old ski resort turned Cabal base of operations. A sort of regional headquarters."

I relay what she tells me to Saxon, who curses. "Fuck. Not good."

"Why not?" I ask.

"I know the place. It's…I won't say impregnable, but damn close. We'll have to get him before he goes in, or there's no getting him out."

"A ski resort? How can a ski resort be impregnable?" I ask.

"Most of the base is underground. The lodge is just the periscope of the whole submarine, so to speak."

"So, what's your plan?" Camilla asks, through me.

Saxon shakes his head. "Not sure yet. I'll get back to you."

Camilla hangs up without a word, and I toss the phone into the cupholder.

"So it's just us two against Jarrod and the whole Cabal?" I wave a hand. "Piece of cake."

Saxon chuckles. "I wish I had your confidence."

"Sarcasm, sexy. Sarcasm."

"No shit." He stares at the road ahead, lost in thought.

I let him think.

After an hour of silence, he sighs, as if he’s come to a decision he doesn't like.