Come To Me (Owned 3) - Page 15

Dom answered on the last ring. I should have cut Dom out of my life years ago, but the young marine in me still had ties to him. I would give him one more chance. Mistake number two.

“Tell me you’re someplace safe.”

“You told me END was the one who organized the hit,” I replied.

“They did,” he said quickly. Too quickly.

“Then why am I looking at intel that says GEM organized it? And why does it say eliminate target on sight?”

“I…” Dom trailed off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who gave you that intel? It’s probably bad.” I wasn’t about to give up my source. Charlie had risked his ass sending me the information. It was clear Dom was just as sniveling and weaselly as he had been the first day I’d met him.

I guess I just never expected him to weasel on me. Mistake number fucking three. Remember how I said I hate odd numbers?

“That’s your explanation?”

“I…” The line went dead.

“Motherfucker.” I pushed away from the desk, preparing myself for what would come next.

I punched in Grace’s number as I exited my office, mind running through everything I had to do.

“There may come a time when you’ve been compromised. Learn your ABCs. Assemble. Break. Clear out.”

“Vic?” Grace’s voice came through sleepy. “Why are you callin’ so early? Is everythin’ okay?” I hadn’t even looked at the clock yet, but that hardly mattered.

“You need to leave.”

“What do you mean I need to leave?”

“I mean you’re in danger. Get Eli and leave Santa Barbara.”

“What are you talkin’ ‘bout? You’re not makin’ any sense.”

“When you’ve been compromised, every tool, every resource you had is gone. If you’re smart, you’ve been assembling your own resources.”

“I’ve put a burner phone, instructions, and some cash in a PO box at the post office by your house.” I had similar setups at multiple PO boxes, safety deposit boxes, and even buried beneath the earth, around Santa Barbara and the US. Assemble was the first thing you learned in training. Officially, learning your ABCs was never about being blacklisted. It was about if your real name got leaked to a competing company. I was lucky, though; I had a trainer who let me in on the secret early. Too bad that would eventually cost him his life.

“There will come a day when GEM will not be there to assist you and you will be hunted.”

“Why?” Some kid raised his hand, like we were in fucking school. The trainer only glared, but I realized then that we were all expendable.

I heard muffled voices and assumed Grace was talking to Eli. I took the time to grab a duffle bag from the hallway closet. The PO boxes didn’t have any clothes, after all. Bag in hand, I stood still. Our bedroom door was just a foot from me, closed even though no one slept inside.

I knocked, though I knew it was empty.

“What about Charlie?” Grace asked. For a few moments, I didn’t respond, instead staring at our empty bedroom. It was dark; I hadn’t bothered turning on the lights. The hardwood was cold against my feet. Despite the whirring in my head and hushed voices on the phone, this was silent. The bed was made; everything was clean. It reminded me of before Lenny had come into my life. She made everything messy, from my brain to my bathroom.

“What about him?” I sighed, heading over to the wardrobe. I stuffed in some thongs, but just as soon as they were in the bag, I took them out. Staring at what felt like a hundred different versions of underwear, I realized I had no idea what to pack. I dangled the stringy thong and Lenny’s body came to mind. She would look fucking great in the piece, but that wasn’t the point. The point was to pack what she needed. Things to last for a few weeks, until shit died down.

“Can’t he help?” Grace’s voice knocked the image out of my mind and I stuffed the stringy thong back into the dresser, grabbing a thicker, cotton looking thing.

“I get that you’re trying to help Grace, but you don’t have a clue what I’m up against.” I turned my assault to the wardrobe, grabbing sweaters, V-necks, and jeans.

“So let us help!” Grace yelled.

“At this point you’re a liability.” I looked into the duffle bag. I’d packed pajamas, underwear, and day clothes. What else did a woman need?

Tampons?

Tags: Mary Catherine Gebhard Owned Romance
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