Chapter 20.

Youre a descendent of Mr. Kinky, arent you? a woman at the end of the conference table asked.

My gaze flicked to the woman, and I noted round, out of date glasses, fuzzy hair, and a little too much fluff around the hips. She had a twisted little mouth that looked cruel, and I wondered who she was and how shed come to be here.

I am, yes, in a way. Im adopted, but the man who became my father is descended from his son, as a matter of fact. It wasnt a point of pride, just something Id had to learn to deal with over the years. Every now and then someone would crop up to ask me if I had special knowledge about the gun slinging outlaw from long ago.

I was born in 1986, so how could I know anything about a man who died over 100 years before I was born? It was a familiar question, though, and one Id grown bored with long ago.

He was such a handsome man, she crooned from the other end of the table, and I tried not to roll my eyes. The man had been a murderer and a thief; his spawn had tried to