VOLUME TWO: DON'T DIE FOR ME, ARGENTINA
“This is not going to work,” I said out of the corner of my mouth, struggling to remain outwardly calm.
Next to me, Xander sat at ease, absently scratching the two day-old stubble under his chin. “Trust me. Trust me. I’m good at this.”
I bit my lower lip and marveled at his boundless optimism. Unfortunately, he had no idea what he was up against. He may have been incredibly talented at ferreting out and even dispatching the dead, may have been fearless in the face of untold horrors, but he’d never met my parents.
Or had he? I mean he claimed to have known my Dad, did that mean he'd known my Mom? With a glance to ensure the coast was clear, I turned back to Xander. “Did you ever meet my Mom?”
“What? What?”
“You said you worked with my Dad, so I was wondering if...” I let the sentence trail off, figuring there was no need for me to finish.
“If what?” he asked, proving me wrong.
“If you'd ever met her. All those years ago.”