Page 4 of Sigma
“Dirty old man,” I say, sashaying away from him.
The teenage boys are studiously attempting to not hear our whispered conversation
A few minutes later, I’ve done a quick cleanup and put on a loose skirt and tank top. I find my husband and son and his friends at the dock where our seaplane will tie up. I hear it, a distant hum approaching from the direction of St. Croix.
I watch Valentine roughhouse with Cal and Killy—he hates that nickname with a passion, but it’s been his nickname to those closest to him since birth, and it’s not going anywhere. Cal is almost as tall as his father, already several inches taller than me at six-one. An active kid, he’s lean and wiry, but shows signs that he’ll be built like his father. His blond hair is long and shaggy, brushing his shoulders and always in his blue eyes; he’s the spitting image of Valentine, with only hints here and there of my genes, the angle of his nose, the tilt of his eyes. I’m more apparent in his mannerisms, prone to emotional outbursts where Valentine tends to be more reserved.
Killian is the opposite, looking more like his mother, Layla, with the personality of Harris; Killy is medium height and densely built with his mother’s complexion and black, densely curled hair, but he has his father’s eyes and calm, quiet, reserved demeanor.
They’re playing at the water’s edge, Valentine barefoot with his suit slacks rolled up to his knees, jacket draped over his valise, shirt sleeves rolled up to just beneath his elbows, no tie. He’s so freaking handsome, my man. Especially when that playful smile lights up his face. He dodges and ducks and weaves as Cal and Killy try to wrestle him into the water, each of them laughing. The St. Croix boys watch the game, laughing as well…until Valentine surreptitiously moves the roughhousing closer and closer to them…and then whirls on them, tossing them each with lightning-fast speed into the water.
And then it’s a free-for-all, all five boys trying to tackle Valentine into the water. They nearly succeed several times, but Valentine always manages to keep his balance and elude their grasp.
The game continues until Mercedes brings the seaplane in for a smooth landing. The seaplane is, of course, a custom design by RTI—Roth Transportation Industries. It’s sleek, jet-powered, utilizing a buoyant body design rather than external floats, capable of seating twelve not including the pilot and copilot. It’s also designed to minimize radar profile, and features all the latest defense technology. The base model can be configured as an executive transport, like this one, with bedroom suites, office space, a full kitchen, and a theater, or as a supply transport.
“I never get tired of seeing that thing,” Thomas says.
It really is an impressive aircraft, but then, everything Roth does is impressive.
Roth says goodbye to Killian and the boys, Cal following him to the dock to say goodbye. They’re arguing about something, unexpectedly, and I hurry up onto the dock to soothe the ruffled feathers. Cal and Valentine can butt heads, sometimes. They have a loving, affectionate relationship, but Cal is a teenager and Roth has little patience for attitude, which can lead to conflict like I see brewing right now, and I don’t want them to part on a bad note.
“…I’m not a kid anymore, Dad. I can help. I know I’m not as…everything…as Rin is, but…” Cal drags his long shaggy blond hair back with an angry, frustrated swipe of his hand. “I just don’t see why I can’t go. Just to watch.” A long pause. He sighs harshly. “I want to be a part of things.”
Valentine is gathering his valise, jacket, and socks and shoes. “You’re not ready, Cal. This deal is vitally important to my plans for the future of St. Claire, and I need to be focused.”
“I can just watch and listen. I won’t interfere or ask any questions until after. I promise.”
Valentine is conflicted, tension in every line of his body. He looks to me, and I come up and stand between them, put a hand on each shoulder.
I look up at my husband. “It could be good for him. For you both.”
Valentine frowns, not expecting me to come in on Cal’s side. I’m usually the conservative, hyper-protective one, not inclined to let my precious kids take unnecessary risks before I think they’re ready.
“You’re taking security, right?” I ask.
Valentine nods, shrugs. “Yeah, of course. Sasha and two new hires from A1S HQ.”
“And the deal is all done except signing the contracts, right? The negotiations are over?”
He nods again, the tension bleeding away. “Yeah—yeah, you’re right,” he sighs.
I turn to face him, resting my hands on his chest. “He’s expressing a desire to learn the ropes. Rin was younger than him when you started taking her on business trips.”
Valentine rakes his hand through his hair, a mirror of Cal’s gesture from a moment ago. “Fine. Go pack. Wear your suit, dress shoes, white button-down and a black tie. Pack a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, underwear, and sneakers. Nothing else—you have ten minutes.”
“You won’t regret it, Dad.” Cal says, already jogging for the house—Killian and the others follow him.
Valentine watches him go, then looks down at me. “He doesn’t have Corinna’s killer instinct.”
“He doesn’t need it,” I say. “And she needs someone around to balance that out. She needs Cal’s optimism and sweetness.”
A thoughtful nod. “You’re right, I suppose. I guess I just wonder what suddenly has him so interested. He’s never shown much interest in anything except surfing and gaming with his buddies.”
“Something to talk to him about on the flight,” I say, lifting up onto my tiptoes to kiss Valentine. “I think maybe he sees this as an opportunity to have you to himself.”
A rough sigh. “Do you think he feels like Corinna is my favorite? Like over him?”
Valentine is the only one of us who ever calls our eldest by her full name, and he’s the only one she’ll allow to call her that. To close friends and family, she’s Rin, to acquaintances and the world at large, she’s Rinna. To her father, she’s Corinna. Or, when he wants to tease her, Rinny. Which sends her into a paroxysm of explosive rage.