Generation 18 (Spook Squad 2)

That depended on several factors—what the military thought Allars might tell them, how much they knew about the SIU, and how quickly they could hack into SIU programming and get a list of current safe houses. “We don’t really know. But your priority is getting him out of here if it happens.”

Murphy nodded, and Sam swiped her ID through the slot. The front door opened and the wind gusted in, thick with the promise of rain. She lifted the collar on her jacket and headed out to her car.

Rain spotted across the pavement. She raised her face, enjoying the feel of the cold droplets against her skin. There was something almost soothing about it.

“Samantha.”

She froze. The voice was deep and warm, yet it held a hint of caution. It was the voice of a man who’d once saved her life. The voice of a man who wanted Gabriel dead.

The voice of a man who was neither friend nor foe, but something in between.

SAM TURNED AROUND SLOWLY. THE hirsute stranger leaned against the building’s brick wall, half-hidden by the shrubs and bottlebrushes that overhung the pavement.

“Just who the hell are you? And why do you keep popping up?”

The stranger smiled, though how she knew this, she wasn’t entirely sure. She couldn’t see his mouth through the forest of beard.

“When you are ready to know, you will find the answer here.” He pressed a grimy hand over his heart.

She raised an eyebrow. “What are you? Some kind of mystic?”

This time she did see his smile. “Some days I believe I am. We must talk, Samantha. There is a small café just around the corner that serves excellent coffee.”

He made a sweeping movement with his hand, indicating she should precede him, but she didn’t budge.

“Tell me one good reason why I should go with you.”

The stranger regarded her for a moment, brown eyes intense and somewhat sad. “The answers you seek will not be found through the man in this building.”

She glanced briefly at the building. “What do you know about Allars?”

“I know he cannot help you.” He hesitated and crossed his arms. It was an oddly defensive gesture. “At the very least, you owe me ten minutes of your time, Samantha.”

She owed him a hell of a lot more than that, because he’d saved her life. But that didn’t mean she had to trust him.

“Ten minutes, then.”

He nodded, then smiled when she motioned for him to go first. She fell into step behind him. Despite his disheveled, unwashed appearance, there was nothing of the streets in his walk. He had the stride of a soldier—purposeful, balanced, and powerful.

A man ready to move, to fight, at a second’s notice.

The café came into sight. The stranger chose a table under the awning, out of the rain. He sat down with his back to the street, letting her take the chair near the wall. Not that she felt any safer for it. She had an itchy feeling that this man could kill her faster than she could react.

Once they’d placed their orders, she leaned on the table and regarded the stranger steadily. “So what did you want to talk about? And how do you know so much about me?”

Her hirsute friend leaned back in the chair. He looked relaxed, almost sleepy, but she knew it was all an act. She could see the tension around his eyes, if nowhere else.

“We are two of a kind, Samantha. Two halves of one whole.”

“What is it with these riddles? Can’t you speak plain English?”

He smiled again. “When you are ready for the answers, you will see them—in your dreams and in your heart.”

She licked her lips. This man knew about her dreams of Joshua. Maybe he was even responsible for them. “What are you doing to me?”

“I’m doing nothing. I’m merely watching and waiting to see what side you fall on. To see if you found what you started searching for so long ago. Though I think, perhaps, the answer is already clear.”

“Not to me.” She leaned back in her chair, smiling as the waitress placed her coffee on the table. “Why did you say Allars can’t help me?”