“I want them both.” Teeth worrying his lip, he studied the image of the wife Alace had parked in one corner of the screen. “They have kids, Alace.”
“Okay. So here’s what I’m thinking.”
Forty-five minutes later, they had a solid plan, just the two of them, how they preferred things to be. With a couple of helpers.
Knuckles rapping at the door behind him startled Owen, and he snapped upright, out of the deep slouch he’d adopted while he and Alace went through the ideas and concrete details for the next couple of days.
“Owen, breakfast is ready.”
Now Alace smiled, white teeth glinting briefly between broadly stretched lips. “Sounds like you need to go, Owen.”
“Be right there, Doc.” Owen had called over his shoulder and turned back to face Alace fully. A nagging sense of guilt and anger at himself simmered in his blood, acid burning his stomach. “I didn’t mean to put you in a bad spot, Alace.” He gave her a headshake, the movement sharp, jerky with tense muscles. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Partners.” By not acknowledging his apology, she was telling him it truly was in the past, and clearly communicating she didn’t want to talk about it again.
Message received. “BFFs,” he agreed and sat there, watching as she disconnected without another word. “She’s my best frand.” He spoke truth to the still air within the office. The sense of unease that had been hovering over him throughout their conversation slowly bled away. “She don’t even know we’re besties.”
Computer shut down, he exited the office and turned into the kitchen in time to see Doc shooting a burst of canned whipped cream directly into Kelly’s mouth. “Me too,” Shiloh shouted, clapping, then stood with her mouth open like a baby bird. Doc obliged and looked up at Owen.
“Want some?” The innocent words were delivered with a salacious wink, wickedness personified that stroked along Owen’s skin, standing his hair on end.
What the hell. Wordlessly Owen stalked across the width of the room, coming to a halt right in front of Doc. Then, gazes locked, enjoying seeing how Doc’s eyes widened, Owen opened his mouth and wagged his tongue. Doc lifted the can, Kelly and Shiloh clapping wildly, and shot a burst of gas-driven sweetness into Owen’s mouth.
“Mmmmm.” He made a show of licking his lips. “Good stuff, Doc.”
***
Alace
Owen’s voice sounded in her headphones, as clear as if he were next to her in the room. “In place. Where’s our guy?”
He was out in public, casually patrolling a section of street near Ramblewood, off the New Jersey Turnpike. His circuit consisted of a not-yet-open pizza place, a gas station, and a gym where he’d already complained the guys lifting inside were staring at him funny. And a bank, which was their actual target.
“Incoming. Three blocks. Get close enough so the reader can—”
“Yeah, I know my part, Ward.” He’d planted a minimal skimmer on the ATM at the bank, one designed for only close-range live transmission of data. “He’s the Jag, right?”
Owen knew the make of the car, so the unnecessary question was nothing but his nerves showing. Alace played along, responding with an affirmative sound.
The dot representing Owen was close to merging with the one indicating the man they were hunting. Donald MacLeod had been a bit of a conundrum as they’d investigated him more aggressively. Not a man of influence or great wealth, he owned a chain of heating and air conditioning sales and repair stores—an impressive accomplishment for someone who’d come up from the streets like MacLeod had. In fact, his profile closely matched not only Warrant and Kuellen, but three of the other ring members she and Owen had identified.
The software on Owen’s phone activated, and she saw the chip transaction information show on the screen, followed by the key sequence of the man’s PIN. Embedded within the microchip of the card were additional details, all the info they needed to turn this man’s life inside out.
“Got it. Everything we need.” She saved the information to their shared secure server, then replicated it to another similar secure location. “Belts and suspenders. You’re good. Head back to the RV.” They’d purchased an old run-down recreational vehicle for this gig, and it was currently parked in a nearby shopping plaza. “Time to work our magic on things.”
“What if he’s heading there right now?” Owen’s dot hadn’t moved, was poised next to the bank’s exit driveway, exactly where he should be if their intentions today were to intercept the man. They weren’t.
“He’s not.” She spoke with confidence, pushing the surety Owen needed to hear into her voice. “He’s going to his Marlton store. There’s a breakfast meeting with his store manager. We saw the appointment on both of their calendars, so it’s not merely a placeholder. Go to the RV, Owen.” The software shut down, indicating the card had been withdrawn from the ATM. MacLeod would be leaving the bank at any moment. “Owen—”
“Yeah. Headed out.” His tracker moved, angling across the four-lane street towards the shopping plaza. MacLeod’s dot arrived where Owen had been standing, then turned in the opposite direction, towards Marlton. Alace let a pent-up breath seep out silently, not wanting to call Owen’s attention to her anxiety. “Keep his tracker turned on. Make sure we know where he goes.” Owen’s dot moved faster, and his breath was loud, rough and ragged as he ran headlong through the city streets. “It’s just—” He rounded a corner, only yards from where the RV was parked. “If he does have kids at the compound, and he’d gone up there? I can’t. It’d be like Shiloh all over again, Alace.”
“I know. But he’s not. You are, remember?” That was their plan. She’d needed Owen to assist with the skimmer, so he’d diverted to town for the day. “You’ve got the invitation and are going to show up a day early, see if you can gain access. You’re the one with a reason to be there. Any guards will err on the side of keeping MacLeod’s friends happy.”
That was going to be the hardest part of the gig, hands down. Sending Owen in without backup felt wrong, but it had been hard enough to acquire an invitation for one semi-unknown to a party MacLeod had scheduled for the weekend. Using Owen’s established darknet persona had earned them an open door, but it would have been impossible to gain access for two. August was in the vicinity, and once Owen had the RV inside the perimeter of the compound, August would slip inside and set up in the vehicle. He simply wouldn’t be inside the buildings until the end.
“Now to see where the money, in fact, takes us.” The material her researchers and Owen’s had uncovered was good, but it only showed part of the picture. With the new intelligence gleaned from his credit card, she’d be able to obtain even more of his information. She already had access to his home network, but it was mostly cluttered with data from his kids. They’d drawn a blank from the wife, which had Alace’s instinctive alarm ringing loudly. “You good to drive up?”
“Yeah.” Nothing remained of the joking and jovial Owen in that single word. His voice had turned hard and determined, and Alace understood the need to divorce himself from the gig, but it was foreign. Now that she’d gotten to know the real Owen, she hated any incursion back into stoic Owen’s more limited interactions.