The Bastard (Filthy Trilogy 1)

A SEAL.

Not ex-SEAL.

Because a SEAL is always a SEAL and we both get that.

“Agreed,” I say, “and if he wants to talk, I’m not going to disappoint him.”

“I do like how you think.” He pulls his weapon. “I’ll cover you.”

I push off the wall and start walking toward the front of the house. The minute I clear the wall and the bushes, that brings me into the open, the driver revs the engine of his car, rolls down the window and holds up a lit cigarette. He starts rolling forward and tosses it, along with something else. He floors it then and drives away. I walk toward the cigarette and stop next to it, but I’m more interested in the rolled-up piece of paper next to it. Adam pulls a pair of rubber gloves from his pocket and hands them to me.

I pull them on and squat down to grab the rolled-up paper and find a line of numbers with random letters. My brain plays with them—translating letters to numbers and the reverse—memorizing the fourteen digits before I toss the paper and the cigarette into the baggy Adam is holding open for me. “What was it?” he asks, eyeing the items in the bag. “A code? Aren’t you a numbers guru?”

“It’s not a cipher, code, or a translatable message. It’s not even a point in history. It’s an identifying number, like a name, but it’s not a VIN number or even a parts number.”

He gives me a deadpan look. “You know all of that in the sixty seconds you were looking at that number?”

“Yes,” I say. “And as you said, he wanted to talk and that’s what he did.” I motion to the bag. “That’s a message. If we find out what the identifier’s attached to, we’ll understand that message.”

“Or it’s a distraction to focus you in the wrong direction,” Adam says as we walk to the front of the house.

His pocket vibrates and he pulls his phone out and glances at a message while I consider his thoughts. It could be a distraction, but if it is, it’s someone who’s studied me. Someone who knows how damn obsessed I can get about a series of numbers. Isaac isn’t that detailed or focused. My father is another story. He knows the savant in me once struggled to spread my focus, but thanks to special training in the Navy, I’m beyond that.

“Isaac’s at his home,” Adam says, sliding his phone back into place. “He went straight there from here. He didn’t meet with anyone.”

“Anyone but you watching his house?”

“No one. You think he’s being targeted, too? I thought you believed he was behind this tonight?”

“I’m not ruling out anything right now. Isaac is running from more than me and Harper. Was tonight related to his fear? Yes, but I’m not sure how. Was tonight’s visitor a tipster trying to help? A hired goon trying to fuck with my head? Someone trying to mock me with the message in numbers? The options are many.”

“Agreed. We’re in this to end it with you. I’m here. The job I came for is over. I’m not going back to New York until you go back. You staying here or at the hotel?” he asks.

“Here,” I say, disliking hotels where strangers come and go too easily.

“Then so am I.” He motions toward the side of the house and then heads that way and I don’t even care that anyone watching knows he’s here. In fact, I’m glad they know to stay the hell away.

I scan the area but I see no one and feel no one. I start walking and reach in my pocket, removing a mini Rubik’s cube, and while I once had to actually work the puzzle to focus my mind, I now just need to hold it to mentally work the challenge of it and whatever I’m trying to focus on outside of it. My mind chases those numbers, looking for their meaning: an employee badge number, a reference number to a medical claim. The list becomes a dozen long by the time I reach the hotel and Blake is calling me.

“The numbers mean nothing to you, genius?” he asks, as I enter the lobby and head toward the stairs. “What the fuck?”

“They’re an identifier,” I say, moving my weapon to the rear of my pants. “In other words, Mr. Hacker Genius. Find out what they identify.”

“Already working on it. It’s not a VIN number or car part.”

“I already told Adam that. Think outside of the box. I’ll send you a list of prospects if you need them, but of course, you’re a genius hacker, right?”

“You just can’t stand the idea of someone else being the genius, now can you?”

“I’ll believe you’re a genius when you find out what that identifier means.”

“Rolling my sleeves up now, asshole. Get ready to feel stupid for once. And while I’m the genius hacking, our lab will run prints of the stuff you and Adam bagged tonight. How present do you want my men in Denver?”

“Present, but out of sight until we know what the hell really happened tonight.”

“What’s your gut?”

“That this is a symptom of a bigger problem and we don’t know the real problem or who is behind that problem.”