He cocked his head at her. “Right now?”
She motioned to his ear, and he slipped the piece in. “Guardian can monitor these pieces. Or they could. I’m not sure of their capabilities right now. But they did monitor them before the attack. The bottom line, I’m not currently working. They’re not currently listening.” The words she spoke were crystal clear and loud in his ear, although she looked down at her purse, seeming to organize the contents. She was barely talking above a whisper.
“So don’t talk too loudly, or I’ll blow out your eardrum.”
She glanced up at him and smiled. “They’re regulated for optimum volume. You could scream, and it wouldn’t get louder or softer.” She placed her hand on his leg. “You won’t regret this trip. I promise. We’ll have a wonderful time.”
Smith covered her hand with his. “Just tell me when you want me to leave.”
“Let’s start the journey before we finish it, shall we?” Val nodded toward the monitors. “Our flight’s up. It’s time to board.”
The airport was crowded, but Smith used his size to keep the press of people away from Val, and she smiled at him when he moved between her and a man who wanted to board before them. The aggressive passenger tapped him on the shoulder but failed to utter a word when Smith turned and glared down at him with a look that would send the minions of hell back to Satan’s nest. Most people were easily intimidated. Knowing which specimen of the human race would be trouble was a skill Smith had developed while surviving on the streets. The blowhard behind them wasn’t a concern.
Smith walked with Val down the gangway and into the aircraft. He had to bend down to enter the plane, and standing straight wasn’t an option as he followed her to the front. At least the compartments, or pods, as Val called them, were spacious enough to extend his legs fully, a luxury he hadn’t expected. The last time he’d traveled, first class was nothing but wider seats and a curtain barrier between the people who had and the people who had not. The wall between their pod lowered and exposed Val, sans shoes, curled up in her seat facing him. “Do you have enough room?”
He smiled. “The chair is more comfortable than my recliner at home.” Which wasn’t a stretch. The recliner, purchased from a second-hand store, served its purpose.
Val smiled at him. “Why don’t you have a nicer apartment? I know our employer pays you.”
He leaned back in his chair and stared at her for a moment. “I’m not one to spend money on creature comforts.” He’d squirreled every penny he could into several stashes. Cash money he could get to and use, so he’d never be in a position to borrow again. Money was what plunged him into the underbelly of New York. He hadn’t touched any of his pay since Mrs. Henshaw passed. It was undoubtedly an error, and as soon as Guardian restructured, they’d see their mistake and want the funds back.
She stared at him. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Where were you educated?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You first.”
She laughed as one of the cabin crew stopped by to take their preflight drink orders. Val ordered champagne, and he asked for bottled water. When they were alone, Val answered him. “I was born and raised in Minnesota. I went to school there, but our employer gave me my education. Your turn.”
“Preston Heights Military Academy. Beyond that, life has been my headmaster.” His parents had shipped him off at the age of six, and he spent one month every year at home over the Christmas holiday. He didn’t know how much his parents paid to have him at the academy during the off months of summer vacation and during Thanksgiving and Spring breaks. The instructors and staff raised him. Not his parents. During those long, lonely vacation breaks, he’d spend all his time in the library. He could travel in his mind, fight dragons, duel musketeers, travel to the stars or the depths of the oceans, and forget his solitary existence.
“College?” She took a fluted glass of champagne from the tray as the attendant made his way past.
He glanced around the first-class pods. Everyone was settling in and either wearing headphones or looking at their phones. There wasn’t any need to feel self-conscious, but he did. He spoke low, knowing the communications device would amplify his words. “My parents decided I should make my own way in the world. My future had a foundation from a prestigious preparatory school and nothing else.”
Val turned, so she faced him straight on. “They turned you out?”
Smith nodded. With one suitcase and fifty dollars. “I bought a bus ticket from Connecticut to New York City. The first mistake I made.” There had been so many more. But he was able to use his size to survive. He glanced down at his knuckles. The scars were visible. He’d learned to fight, to steal, to survive. He fought to live, and when he grew strong enough, he hired his skills out and fought for others. For monsters like Simmons.
“I couldn’t imagine what it would be like not to have anyone to help. My parents were older, but I had aunts and uncles.” She swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry for that young man.”
Smith blinked and cocked his head. That was an interesting turn of words. “Not for me, though?”
“For the younger you, yes. He had to be terrified and, in the end, forced into unfathomable positions. For the man I’m looking at now. No.” Val reached for her champagne flute.
“Why’s that?” He leaned toward her pod.
“Because the man in front of me is resilient, strong, determined, and intelligent. He doesn’t need my pity.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “I would not welcome your pity.”
She smiled back at him. “See. I love being correct.” She chuckled, then seriously asked, “Have you spoken to your parents or sisters lately?”
He shook his head. “I have no connection with my sisters. They went to different boarding schools, and we were strangers living in the same house when we were home. I haven’t spoken to any of them since I walked out that door almost twenty-one years ago. My parents weren’t the most nurturing. I can only assume they did what they thought was best.”
“For themselves,” Val snipped.
“Probably,” Smith agreed. “I wouldn’t put them up for parents of the year, but there are far worse out there.” He’d read reports and studied the science behind familial bonding and why it did or didn’t happen. Still, he didn’t understand how his parents thought turning him out would benefit anyone. Rational, logical intelligence, which he knew he had, couldn’t connect the dots on his parent’s cognitive processes.
Val grumbled something unintelligible, and he tapped his ear. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
“Worse children, too. Like Mrs. Henshaw’s kids.” Val tipped up her champagne and finished the glass in one go. “I hate those people. I’ve schemed a million ways of making them pay for abandoning her.”
“She was proud of them and what they’d accomplished. She loved them.” Smith had sat with her in the evenings, listened to the same stories, and witnessed a mother’s connection. It was the first time he understood what unconditional love looked like.
“Well, she was a better person than I am.” Val huffed.