Cass turned to him. “What was that about?”
Unable to stand still, he let her go and started to pace. “Burton called him, told him I was hooked up with you, which is guaranteed to get his panties in a bunch. Then he saw the books, jumped to the wrong conclusions—which he’s good at—and tried to reclaim a role he lost the rights to a long damn time ago.” He dragged a hand through his hair then grabbed the back of his neck and squeezed. “Why did I open the damn door?” he muttered with his back to Cass.
“Because he’s your dad?” Cass offered softly.
He laughed bitterly. “I buried my dad with my mom, Cass. That man, he’s nothing to me.”
“That may be, but you mean something to him.”
He couldn’t afford to believe her. “That’s his problem, not mine.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that.”
“That’s gracious of you.” The spiteful words escaped him before he could check his mouth. He winced and turned to face her. “Dammit, Cass, I’m sorry. That was uncalled-for.”
“It was. However, you’ve met my family, right? So I get it.” She then surprised him with a small grin. “But does it make me weird that you being mean makes me feel better?”
The riot of emotions his father’s presence had evoked eased. “Uh, yeah?” he said, bemused.
Cass’s giggle was quiet as she headed for the kitchen. “It’s nice to know you’re not perfect.”
“Not even close,” he murmured as he followed her. He took a seat at the counter.
She grabbed the kettle and started to pour. “So, what’s his problem with me?”
“Apparently, he knows your family, and he’s not a fan.”
She raised a brow and set the kettle aside. “Did they do something to him?”
“Probably not.” If he hadn’t been watching her, he would have missed the slight tremble in her hand as she dropped the teabag into the mug. “It’s more likely he’s lumping them in with all the Families.”
She opened a couple of cabinets until she found his plates and grabbed a saucer. “Ah, so more like a basic disdain of the OGs, then?” She set the saucer on top of the mug, holding the teabag in place as it steeped.
“It’s a little deeper than that.”
When she looked at him, he knew it was time to share, so he settled in. “Remember the story I promised?” He waited for her nod. “Well, once upon a time, my dad was a well-regarded Sentinel, and my mom was a highly respected Key. While my mom was happy working for the Guild, Dad preferred being able to pick and choose his own clients.”
“As a Sentinel, going solo couldn’t have been easy for him,” she said, settling into a lean against the counter.
She wasn’t wrong. When it came to personal security work, whether close cover or covert, most Families preferred a Guild-backed Sentinel. “It wasn’t, but he had a solid reputation and, more importantly, an exclusive offer from one of the Families.”
“That would do it,” she said. “I’m guessing he didn’t want to pay the Guild their cut.”
Grayson shook his head. “I remember him and Mom discussing it one night, and he told her he’d already paid the Guild back and then some. It was time to earn what he was worth.”
“Did your mom not want him to take the job?”
“She wanted him happy. Things had been tough at the Guild. I’m not sure what was going on, if it was a shitty boss, or a midlife-crisis thing, but whatever it was, Dad wanted a change.”
“And when the offer came, he took it.”
Grayson nodded. “And for a couple of years, things were good. Then the Family he worked for decided to partner on a real estate development deal here in Vegas.”
“Let me guess. A casino?” Cass set the saucer aside and removed the teabag. She took her mug and rounded the counter.
“A private one,” he confirmed, picking up the books and setting them on the seat behind him. As she settled onto the barstool next to him, he angled so they could face each other. “Plans were underway, things were moving along, but then Dad’s client discovered money was missing. An investigation was started, and then the client had a string of bad luck resulting in a couple of near misses. Dad started to hunt and narrowed in on a suspect fairly quickly, which was when things got messy.”
“Your issues with Muses,” Cass guessed—accurately—a slight frown marring her forehead. “Was that the suspect?”
