Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 158(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 158(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
The main house is glowing in the early evening light, and the outbuildings shine at intervals. The stables are the brightest, my spoiled horses getting heat lamps even when the temperatures are high enough for them to be more than comfortable.
Something bumps against my leg, and I lean down to pet Alfie. He gives me a sweet meow, his tail twitching as he winds between my ankles.
“You’re not much for catching pests. These squirrels are running circles around you.” I scratch behind his ears as he gives me a look as if to say It’s 50 acres. I’m just one handsome tomcat. I can’t get them all.
I suppose he’s right. That’s why I’ll pick up a trap next time I’m in town. I can catch them and take them off to some other woods where they can terrorize someone else.
It’s a hazard of living off the grid. Dealing with random squirrels and a spoiled cat—all in a day’s work.
“Let’s get inside. Supper’s almost done.” I stride into the house, closing the door behind us. “It’s almost time to get back to work. That little power blip didn’t hurt us any, but it could’ve left us open to prying eyes, if only for a millisecond. Then again, maybe it’s time.” It’s not part of my plan, but it’s not a bad development. I’ll just have to see who capitalizes on it. I smirk, because I know damn well just who that’s going to be.
After a quiet dinner of roast chicken and veggies, Alfie and I head to our office. He takes his perch in the window, his hammock swaying gently as he settles in.
“Let’s see if this was the bait we needed.” I crack my knuckles and power on my screens.
Data filters through several different windows, all of it monitoring my targets. Nothing seems amiss so far. It’s been a quiet day for the contract killers and the mercenaries of the world. Just a few contracts going out to Brotherhood operatives for foreign warlords and a low-level US politician. Nothing of interest.
A red arrow appears—one of my security alerts. I click it and chuckle. “Duffy, you couldn’t find me with a flashlight at high noon.” I swipe through the screens and follow the FBI’s clown tracks as they bumbled around my weakest firewall and failed to make headway. “Alfie, you’d be a better operative than whoever she’s got on her payroll over there.”
He yawns and stretches, his claws coming out and clinging to the edge of the hammock.
I swipe their attempts from my servers and get back to work. More data piles in. Someone else is sniffing around my security measures. A tingle goes down my spine.
Sitting back, I smile up at Alfie. “Looks like I’ll be headed into town sooner than I thought. In fact, I think I’m in the mood for some coffee tomorrow morning.”
He blinks slowly, deviousness and affection in the movement. I blink right back. “Same, buddy. Same.”
3
MAGGIE
Owen Caddel doesn't exist. At least not in the same way the rest of us do with our normal forms of identification like passports and Social Security cards. Oh, I have a few others with different names for emergencies, but I’ve never had to use them before. I do, however, know how to make them. I’m sure Owen has a handful of other names he uses as well. Owen Caddel is the one he’s sticking with at the moment.
It had been a major pain in the ass to sort through the data. There are way too many Owens in the world. The last name helped some. When I tracked down his information, it turned out to be all bullshit. It was all so clean. Too clean. I couldn’t find any trace of his documents being fake. I thought maybe Duffy was messing with me. I had no choice but to hack the WITSEC system. That was easy enough. I might have left myself a wormhole to get back in before I handed it back over.
I left it to see if Parks would catch it. He hadn’t. I mean, it’s possible they know about it and are leaving it be. No way to know for sure. Damn it. I hate how the government plays with your head. My father is right. You can never trust them. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Owen Caddel wasn’t on their list. Leaving me right back where I started.
“Anything?” I ask Ocean with a yawn. It looks like Owen stays holed up in his off-the-grid farmhouse. Or what appears to be a farmhouse. The second I got his address, Ocean was in hot pursuit. I had to pull her back. I didn’t have proof, but I had a sense that if she got too close with the drone, it would be gone in no time at all. It would be way too easy to fly in.