Off the Grid (2 page)

No doubt his blood pressure was through the roof. Soon he’d pulled onto I-95, heading south with no real idea of where to go. He’d left his team in the lurch. A good teammate didn’t do that shit, but, for the life of him, Ethan couldn’t turn the Range Rover around. It wouldn’t matter if he didn’t show up for practice anyway. If the police found him, he’d be arrested for murder, and if those other people found him, he’d be dead.

Ethan drove on, being careful not to speed too badly and get pulled over. Who knew how quickly the story would come out? Both the police and whoever’d sent those guys would be looking for him.

And yet his brain also kept returning to the letter.
They ruined me. They took every cent. I still can’t believe it. My own parents, the people who had me and raised me and seemed to love me. Those people, the ones I trusted to make me secure when I couldn’t play anymore, took that trust and shit all over it. Did they ever really love me, or did they just look at me as their personal ATM?

The thought of that kind of callousness stung, leaving a well of hurt burning a hole in his gut.

Ethan forced himself to take several deep breaths, willing the fury and crushing dread trying to take him under to subside. The two people he’d trusted the most had betrayed him. He couldn’t forgive them for that. Not now. Maybe not ever.

He squinted as the morning sun blinded him. The day had dawned cold but sunny. In his hurry, he hadn’t even thought to bring sunglasses, but contending with the glare was the least of his problems.

After several hours in which Ethan could swear he was being followed but had been unable to figure out if his mind was merely playing tricks on him as paranoia took over, nature called and Ethan pulled into a truck stop. He found a winter hat he’d thrown in the back and pulled it onto his head. Hopefully no one would recognize him.

It seemed like a good idea to use a stall rather than one of the urinals, and while Ethan took care of business an image of himself in prison orange, the press circling around him like a bunch of vultures, assaulted his brain.
How much of a fucking moron am I that didn’t even realize this was happening?

He’d spent the drive so far with his emotions shooting from panic about what he’d done to anger, to overwrought shock that his own parents could be so selfish. By the time he’d finished and rushed back to the parking lot, his brain had become so muddled he didn’t immediately notice the two people standing next to his truck.

Oh, God. It’s over. Someone’s already found me.

Ethan stopped dead, not sure how to react. Both people, a woman and a man, wore suits, and each had a small pin that said UG on one lapel. UG? He’d never heard of any law enforcement agency with that insignia.
Who the fuck knew who they were or what they wanted?
Turns out, it didn’t matter, because the woman held both hands up and then the man did the same. At least neither of them had a gun pointed at him. Yet. He’d deliberately parked away from the other cars and now faced away from the small building with no one else even in sight.

She spoke first. “We’re not here to hurt you, Ethan. We’re not the police, and we aren’t looking for money. We want to help you.”

Help me? What the hell?

His confusion must’ve been written all over his face, because the woman continued. “We’re from a secret organization called Underground. You’ve been on our radar for quite a while.”

“For what?” Ethan’s voice cracked and sounded unnaturally high, but it was the best he could do.

“We’re always looking for new talent to join us. We fight crime; including situations the government doesn’t want to deal with or a private citizen needs assistance with. Look, we know what happened. Listen, there’s a picnic table back there,” she jerked her head toward the little grassy area behind the building. “Let’s go sit there and talk. We’ll be a little less conspicuous that way. Oh, and my name is Maline. This is Andre, and we run Underground.”

It could be a trap, but what choice did he have? Run back inside and scream for help?

“I’ll get us some coffee,” Andre said, and moved away, heading for the building. Maline turned and toward a small wooden table about a hundred feet away. No other cars were near Ethan’s, and he wondered where these two had come from.

Maybe that’s why I felt like someone was following me. Because they were.

He sat across from Maline and said, “Look, I really don’t understand what’s going on.” Ethan had kept his words purposefully vague to test Maline, but she merely nodded.

“We’ve had our eye on you for some time, knowing your hockey career might be coming to an end soon. I should be honest with you from the start and let you know we placed bugs in your house quite a while ago. You’ve also got trackers on your cars and your phone is hacked. If you don’t believe me, I can prove it. Two days ago, around five p.m. Carolina time, you called a place called Dao and ordered sushi to go. Later that same night you received a phone call from someone on your team’s PR staff regarding some charity holiday programs they run and your involvement with them.”

“How…how did you do all this and I didn’t know?”

You fucking moron. Your parents did way worse and you had no clue about that.

Maline smiled gently. “It’s actually not at all hard to hack a cell phone or plant a tracker on a car. Getting into a house poses a little more of a challenge but, I assure you, our operatives have no trouble with simple tasks like that. Everyone who works for us is highly trained.”

“But that’s breaking and entering.” It was the first thought that had formed enough to voice, and he shook his head.
Yeah, let’s focus on that when I’ve just killed someone.

“True, and we try not to break the law, but sometimes such measures are necessary to complete our objective and we do what we have to.”

Andre returned with three travel cups of coffee and sat next to Maline. He indicated the beverage. “Go ahead. It’s black, with one sweetener, like you always take it.”

“Holy fuck, you guys know I like to drink coffee.”

“There’s little we don’t know about you,” Andre answered. Jerking his head toward the cup, he said, “I wouldn’t poison you. That would negate the purpose of keeping tabs on you all these years. You possess many of the skills we’re looking for.”

“How on earth could a professional hockey player have skills you’d need?”

The other man smiled. “Many of our operatives are, not surprisingly, ex-military. However, we’ve found that mixing them with people from other professions makes for a stronger unit. Those who have served in the armed forces are often very good at this kind of work, but they also tend to burn out more quickly. Hence our interest in you.”

“What exactly do you guys do?”

Ethan watched both closely, noting that their postures were relaxed, but betting they could react quickly if the need came up. Each kept their hands within Ethan’s sight, and though his heart still raced and his head pounded, he found himself relaxing a little too. Maline and Andre gave off a quietly confident vibe that reminded Ethan of himself.

When I haven’t just offed some dude and had the bottom drop out of the world.

“Different people have different roles in the organization,” Andre explained. “Maline and I mostly manage, but we also go out on missions as needed. Then we have several people whose task it is to complete the mission at hand, and a couple of support staff, including our computer expert who picked up the conversation at your house this morning and alerted us you were on the move. We decided now would be a good time to intercept you.”

“For what?”

Maline spoke. “You need to ditch your car. You need to disappear, unless you want to face down both the authorities and the organization your parents are involved in, plus subject yourself to murder charges and a trial. Your hockey career is over no matter which way you look at it.” She paused briefly, as Ethan’s eyes closed and he processed her last statement. When he opened them once more, she continued. “We can provide you with protection and help you to disappear from the face of the earth—as far as anyone knows—if you agree to join our organization.”

“What do you want with me? I’m not trained to do this type of work. I’m a hockey player. That’s all I’ve ever been.”

The coffee caused even worse jitters than he already had, since he didn’t drink much caffeine, and he began to shift in his seat, tapping the table with his thumbs, and whatever else he could do to dispel the false energy and not-so-false adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Maline smiled again, just a brief tilting up at the corners of her mouth.
She sported short blonde hair and had brown eyes. Ethan wouldn’t exactly consider her pretty, but she had that overall look of extreme competence, of someone not to be messed with, which he’d picked up from her the moment they’d met. She was currently clad in a business suit that would’ve made Wall Street proud. Andre also wore a suit, and Ethan vaguely wondered if they did it for the same reason hockey players dressed up while traveling—to give more respect and professionalism to what they do.

Both were well-dressed and didn’t look like assassins or highly-trained crime fighters, but what the hell did he know about what an actual, real-life person doing that type of work looked like? Of course, if they were assassins, how professional did a person need to be? They’d said they weren’t there to hurt him but until he heard more Ethan decided to keep his guard up. Andre was actually shorter than Maline, but bulky. His appearance and bearing, between the closely cropped hair, the wide face, and crooked nose, screamed ex-military, but his light blue eyes made him appear less menacing for some crazy reason.

I bet he’s used that to his advantage more than once.

“We’re the good guys,” Andre answered, “and we think you can help us rid this world of at least some of the scumbags inhabiting it. The ones the cops can’t always bring to justice themselves.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Ethan asked, “The good guys? You’ve mentioned that, but what the hell does it mean? And if you’re the good guys, why have you been watching me?”

“You have a unique skill set; one we’re looking for.”

“My slapshot?” Ethan laughed bitterly, but Andre nodded.

“Actually, yes. Some of the people who work with us are ex-athletes who left the game for one reason or another. The fact you majored in criminal justice in college and were a highly talented athlete put you on our radar screen originally.”

“Tracking me all this time is just weird. That’s like espionage stuff.”

“It’s part of who we are and how we work. Tasks like planting bugs is child’s play in our world. The organization takes recruiting very seriously and we always have our eyes open for new talent. If that means knowing where our potential newcomers are at all times, we’re willing to do that. We only work with the best.” Continuing, Andre said, “Have you ever heard of a concept most commonly called black ops?”

Ethan shrugged. “I guess so. Like, illegal stuff?”

“Only when we have no other means of successfully completing our mission. Basically, we do the dirty work. The jobs nobody else wants. Stuff the government needs done quietly and outside of normal defense channels. Missions for private citizens who are at risk, or an individual whose family is in danger, but the person doesn’t want to broadcast his situation. In a nutshell, the best way to describe our organization and what we do is black ops, though it’s not entirely accurate.”

“What would you want with me then? I still don’t get it.” He’d sat with his back turned to the parking lot so as to be less recognizable, but could guess Andre knew the exact location of anyone near them and had already assessed them as dangerous or not.

Maline answered that. “Like Andre said, you have the skill set we require. Physical strength, the ability to be trained—it’s a lot like coaching, which you’re used to—and you most likely have a heightened need to see justice done, to make a difference in people’s lives, due to your major in college and what’s just happened to you.” She shifted. “It appears obvious you’re on the run, and we certainly do not blame you. Your parents treated you horribly, especially since it led to you being attacked this morning. They put your life in danger because of their own greed.”

“Did those bug things pick that up? You heard what happened?”

“Yeah, and afterward you said ‘I killed him; I need to leave’, and we immediately mobilized. We could see from the tracker on your car that you’d headed south on I-95 so we jumped in the car to intercept you. Had to make an illegal U-turn and we’ll probably have to pay the maximum toll, but we couldn’t let you just flap in the wind right now.”

“If you’re setting me up, you’re going to an awful lot of trouble.”

“We aren’t here to harm you, Ethan. We said that from the beginning. What we’re offering is protection and a new life.”

“Come again?”

“We can help you go underground, literally.”

“Huh?”

Andre then said, “Our facility is underground, in a building that houses a grocery store at street level. We own that, of course. We built three floors down and that’s our headquarters.” After glancing at Andre, she said, “And what we’d like is to have you join us.”

“Join you?”

“You’ve got exceptional aim and hand-eye coordination. We can train you to do so much good, to be so much more; a hero to people you help as a part of our organization. We’d like you to consider at least checking out our operation. We do good work. There are less assholes in the world because of us. I think you might enjoy the missions, as we’ve learned most athletes are naturally adrenaline junkies. Plus you would absolutely disappear. All of your problems wiped out. Gone forever.”