Renegade (7 page)

“Sure, sounds great,” I said, putting some conviction in my voice.

“Well, then—come on in, I guess,” Grady said, turning and stomping inside. “But don’t expect me to clean up for you.”

Ashleigh mouthed a silent “
sorry
” behind his back and a tiny
c’est la vie
lift of her shapely shoulders, then motioned us to follow. Before she closed the door, though, I noticed that Grady took a swift glance behind him. Scanning the grounds outside as if searching for something . . . or someone. Then the door clicked shut, and I couldn’t decide how I felt. Relieved, to have one more layer of protection between us and the outside world? Or worried that we were now locked inside with a man who seemed far too astute for comfort?

A man who had the potential to lead us right into the enemy’s hands.

From the outside, the house looked a lot like its neighbors—colonial style, white pillars. Elegant. However, I was pretty sure the inside was nothing like the other houses on the block.

The bright aqua paint slathered on the walls grabbed my attention the instant I entered the foyer. Adding even more color to that in the living room was a ton of drawings and paintings, each painstakingly framed and hung near eye level.

“Wow,” Hunter murmured, as my gaze traveled the wall. Some of the art, on the farthest wall, appeared quite skilled—a three-legged Doberman pinscher, catching a Frisbee, and a little girl digging in the sand. A trio of colorful cartoonish-looking characters, with wild hair and clothes and . . . swords?

“Cool manga characters,” Hunter said, nodding at the piece, while I continued my inspection to what appeared to be earlier works from the same artist. Still the bold lines, but these weren’t quite up to par: lopsided stars, haphazard hearts, rainbows in only two colors—pink and purple. Ashleigh’s painted knuckles suddenly made a lot of sense.

And then, in the middle of the room, what looked to be part of an old convertible sports car—red and shiny. The roof and windows were missing, and what was left had apparently been converted into a table.

The man caught my interest and said, “Found her rotting in a junkyard. Bastards—who treats a classic like that?” When neither Hunter nor I responded, he grumbled, “What, never seen a car as a coffee table before?” then walked into the next room.

Hunter coughed to hide his laugh while Ashleigh whispered, “Weird, right? But cool. That pretty much describes Gramps to a tee, actually.”

“I heard that,” Grady grumbled from the next room and Ashleigh just shook her head, walking up behind him to drape her arms around his shoulders. For a kook, he was pretty observant—undoubtedly courtesy of his CIA training.

“You love it, and you know it,” she said, pressing a quick kiss to his rough cheek. She tilted her head toward us and winked.

“This way,” Grady barked, and Hunter and I scurried through the arched doorway that led into an open kitchen, full of stainless appliances, a glass and wrought iron table, and a long, burgundy-speckled granite counter. My gaze zeroed in on the butcher block, which magnified in the side of my visual field. Information flashed.

Um, good to know, I guess.

The floor was wooden, with black-and-white stripes. A nod to the kitschiness of the rest of the house.

The red words flashed. Blink. Blink. Blink.

I frowned. So this was much weirder and more intriguing than the decor. Grady had two networks, one of which was so guarded, even I couldn’t obtain access? Unusual enough that my fingers curled and released, to help deflect some of my growing unease.

Grady motioned to the table, toward two of the red-cushioned chairs. “Sit down. I don’t like it when people hover.”

Hunter pulled out a chair for me, then sat in the one beside it. I followed suit more slowly. I didn’t like having commands barked at me. It reminded me way too much of Holland.

“What did you say your names were?” Grady asked.

I went still, my palms pressing down into my thighs. We hadn’t actually, and I’d prefer to keep it that way. But Hunter had no such reservations.

“I’m Hunter, and this is Mila.”

I pretended to pick at a hangnail while I watched Grady for even the slightest change in expression. Nothing. Not so much as a twitch when Hunter said my name. But his stare drilled right through me.

“You one of those girls who slinks around and never talks?” he said with a scowl.

My head flew up, startled. Then I shrugged, deciding to go with it. Me, passing as a sullen teenager? I should probably be flattered. I doubted Three would ever be accused of that.

Ashleigh padded over to straddle an empty chair at the table. Completely unself-conscious, she draped her forearms over the chair back and rested her chin on top. “So, what brings you guys to this less-than-thrilling part of town?”

Grady frowned at her. “They’re looking for Mila’s relatives—the O’Dailys.”

Did it mean something, that he’d gotten the name wrong? Or was he feigning ignorance?

Hunter shifted position in his chair so that he could once again rest a hand on my shoulder. “Just Daily,” he corrected.

Grady’s gaze slid back and forth between Hunter and me, before he grunted. “Hope you kids like steak, because that’s what we’re having. I threw some on the grill right before you came, and I always cook a few extras. Or, if you’re one of those vegetarian people like that one,” he said, nodding at Ashleigh, “we’ve got some healthy crap—grilled eggplant.”

Ashleigh grinned. “Do you really want to get into another debate of factory farming practices in America?”

Grady held up his hands as if deflecting a punch and backed away. “I didn’t say anything.” But he winked at her, brown eyes shining. I bit my lip and had to look away, my heart aching. These two shared the kind of bond I’d never have again. Not with Mom gone.

“I’ll take steak, thank you,” Hunter said.

“Me too,” I murmured, having lost what little fake appetite I’d possessed.

Grady grunted a reply, then opened the dark oak cabinet doors and rummaged around, before pulling out an oversized platter. He headed toward the sliding glass doors that led to the backyard, opened them, and walked outside, to where a built-in grill was the centerpiece of a brick-lined patio. A huge yard, at least an acre.

A harsh ring came from somewhere down the hall. Grady appeared in the doorway. “Ashleigh, keep an eye on those steaks for a second—I’ll be right back.”

As I watched him depart, Ashleigh laughed. “Gramps doesn’t believe in cell phones—he thinks they’re too risky. Old folks.”

I shifted uneasily in my chair. She’d cemented my observation that Grady was the suspicious type. Speaking of which, who was calling him, and did we have any reason to be concerned?

I stared in the direction Grady had gone, then pushed to my feet. “Where’s the bathroom?” I asked.

Ashleigh pointed. “Around the corner and down the hall.” I saw her pull a black and maroon smartphone out of her pocket as I sped out of the room. “I don’t know how he survives without one of these. I mean, seriously, how do you keep in touch with your friends without one?”

I started down the hall, then paused outside of a closed door. From the other side, I could hear the low murmur of Grady’s voice, but still couldn’t catch what he was saying. I bit my lip in frustration. Surely there should be some kind of way to hear?

The new prompt just appeared, popping into my head out of nowhere like an uninvited guest. But not unwelcome.

A pulse in response. And then:

Hurriedly, I lifted my index finger. Tap. Tap. Tap.

A blue circle appeared, and then separated into three distinct smaller circles. Grady, Hunter, and Ashleigh? I guessed. I focused on the one on the left.

Suddenly, every other noise fell away, until all that was left was Grady’s drawl. I’d chosen correctly. The sound was merely a faint whisper at first, growing and growing in volume in time to the numbers that flashed before me.

Tiny concentric rings pulsed outward from the circle, in sync with the increasing volume.

Each time, the rings pulsed, and the volume rose, until finally, Grady’s voice filled my head, loud enough to distinguish his every word with crisp, clear definition.

“I’ll be at the course next week, don’t you worry, John. I’m gonna kick your behind on the back nine holes.”

I couldn’t hear the voice on the other end of the phone, but I did hear an odd tapping.

The update notified me with a single power surge, and I realized Grady was typing on the secure network. My gut tightened. Coincidence? Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, I needed to find out.

“Thanks for calling me back so quickly. Yeah, I’ll keep you posted . . . that’s right. Three-six-three-seven.”

I took a hasty step back, my manufactured pulse pounding a crazed rhythm in my ears. That number, 3637. Too many coincidences now. I knew that number, and it was one that no one but Mom should know. That was the number in our street address from Philly. Our fictitious address, the one that only existed in my programmed memories.

Or so I’d thought. Was it a real address, and I’d somehow just alerted Grady to check it out? Or was it a code, one that Mom had shared with Grady?

I knew now that Grady was involved somehow, but I still couldn’t tell if he was friend or foe.

By the end of the night, I would find out. By whatever means necessary. But I had to be very, very cautious.

“Talk to you soon.”

I heard a click, and I scrambled away from the door, turning toward the bathroom. Meanwhile, the blue circle representing Grady quit pulsing and shrank in size. I backed out of the Grady circle in my mind and in doing so, inadvertently swept over the other two, activating them.

“I’m glad you guys decided to stay. Gramps is great, but he’s so overprotective. He wouldn’t dream of letting me live on campus, and it gets a little dull not having anyone my age around to talk to, you know? I want to travel so bad, and of course he won’t hear of it.”

“Why’s that?” Hunter’s voice this time, loud and clear.

I reached the bathroom doorway, ready to dart inside the second Grady’s door opened. Now, I just needed to figure out how to turn this sucker off.

“Not safe, too many crazies, blah blah blah. It’s so awesome that you get to travel with your girlfriend! She seems pretty cool.”

My fingers froze in midair. Girlfriend? I didn’t want to hear Hunter shoot that down . . . but I couldn’t seem to make my hand move.

“Yeah. She is. And we are lucky to travel together—it’s been great.”

With fingers that were suddenly less steady, I tapped a third time, then entered the bathroom and just stood there in a trance. She’d called me his girlfriend, and Hunter hadn’t argued. That was insane. Ridiculous. And utterly, completely amazing.

My phantom pulse pounded; my almost heart swelled in my chest. For that one, fractured moment, I let myself forget everything, and just feel all the giddy elation of being a real girl. I allowed myself a few moments of fantasy life—me, Hunter, a romantic road trip with nothing more to do than explore foreign places and hold hands while the sun set. Then, I forced my mind to return to reality, and my grin fell away. If Hunter really was my boyfriend, we were about to have the shortest relationship ever.

Because nothing had changed. I had to figure out exactly what Grady knew.

And then I had to tell Hunter good-bye.

W
e settled in to dinner, but if I was hoping for a silent meal, I was quickly dissuaded of that notion.

Grady surveyed me over his plate as he stabbed a piece of meat. “So, tell me where you’re from again?” he said, in a bland manner.

Too bland? I wondered, a whisper of unease threading through me.

“I’m originally from San Diego, and Mila’s from Philly, but we met in Clearwater, Minnesota,” Hunter said.

“That right?” Grady’s fork paused a beat. Then, he shoved a bit of steak into his mouth and started to chew.

I waited for him to mention his connection to Clearwater, but he let it pass without comment. While I supposed it was possible he didn’t know where his grandmother was from, I didn’t find it likely.

“Your folks okay with the two of you taking off like this?” Grady said after swallowing.

Hunter shrugged and I said, “Yeah,” with as much conviction as I could muster.

“Grandpa, let them eat already,” Ashleigh said with a roll of her eyes.

“Now, now, don’t you shush me. Just making some small talk with our guests, that’s all.” Grady quelled Ashleigh with a stern look. She immediately focused on cutting her eggplant into tiny, even bites.

Grady took a swig of water before turning back to me. “So, you’re searching for your . . . family member? Something wrong with your parents, they can’t give you more information than a name and the help of this young man?”

My fist balled in my lap. Too many questions, especially when clearly he knew more than he was letting on. Or was he just on a fishing expedition, trying to reel me in? Either way, this interrogation was doing nothing to ease my misgivings.

If only I had a way of knowing if he was on my side.

“Well?” Grady barked, when I hesitated too long.

Hunter glanced at me before frowning at Grady. “Mila’s adoptive dad recently died, so she’s having a rough time.”

Some transient expression flew across Grady’s face. Surprise? Sorrow? Disdain? It was impossible to tell. The next moment his lids lowered, and when he lifted them again, his eyes were shuttered. “I’m very sorry to hear that,” he said, and if I didn’t know better, I’d believe he was telling the truth. “Heart attack?”

“Fire,” Hunter said.

Grady cleared his throat while Ashleigh gasped, pressing one colorful hand to her mouth. “Oh, Mila, that’s terrible—I’m so sorry.”

Her sympathy, at least, was real. I felt a twinge of guilt, even as sorrow over my loss swept through me. Though my dad was a figment of Mom’s fertile imagination, somehow that knowledge didn’t completely erase my feelings.

When Hunter’s hand reached under the table for mine, I grabbed it, taking strength in his strong, comforting grip.

Several minutes later, Hunter pushed his almost clean plate away. “That was delicious—thank you, sir.”

Grady dragged a napkin across his mouth and tossed it onto the table. “Welcome.” Since Hunter’s explanation about the fire his shoulders had lost some of their rigidity, and though he still exuded an air of caution, at least now I wasn’t afraid he would jump up and forcibly evict me from the house at any minute.

“So, are you retired from the government?” Hunter filled the silence with small talk, and I realized my mistake immediately. I should never have told Hunter my suspicions about Grady’s true occupation. They’d wonder how we knew.

Ashleigh’s cup rattled the table when she plunked it down. “Government? You must be confused. Gramps was an IT guy for a military supplies company, but he didn’t technically work for the government. Right, Grandpa?”

“That’s right,” he said mildly. Not at all the hostile reaction I’d expected. Maybe I’d gotten it wrong, after all.

He leaned back in his chair, folded his arms. “But even working outside the military, we learned a few things about self-protection, too. Ain’t no one getting into my house without me knowing about it—got video surveillance and an alert any time that damned gate opens.”

Those details slipped past Hunter, but not me. He was letting me know that he’d seen us before he’d ever opened the door—which meant that whole water gun thing had been a ruse.

My stomach lurched, and I straightened in my chair.

“And if they try to take something of mine? Well, they’d have a fight on their hands, that’s for sure. But I’ve always found it’s the people you know who are the most dangerous. You know the statistics—more violent acts are committed by people you know than strangers. That’s why I’m a big fan of the saying: keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”

He stood abruptly, grabbing his plate off the table and heading for the sink. And on that ominous note, dinner was over.

I digested everything that had just happened, and uneasiness rolled through my stomach. This man was too volatile to question outright, and I didn’t trust him any more now than I had when we’d first pulled up.

Hunter grabbed my plate and his and followed Grady to the sink, while I sat there and waffled. One thing I had learned was that Grady knew something. More than likely, he was the Grady who Mom had sent me to find. But that didn’t mean he was reliable.

Still, I had to find out what he knew. Which meant I had to get him away from Hunter and Ashleigh. If only for a brief time.

I saw my opportunity when Ashleigh rose and headed for the hall. “I’ll be right back, Gramps—got to check on a homework assignment.”

One down. “Hey Hunter, would you mind grabbing my sweatshirt from the car? I’m getting a little chilly.” I wrapped my arms around myself for emphasis.

“Sure.” He stretched, then pulled the keys out of his pocket.

“Let me get the gate,” Grady said as he walked from the kitchen. He returned a moment later. “Good to go.”

I watched Hunter leave the room and listened to Ashleigh’s footsteps thumping up the stairs, but I waited until I heard the front door close before turning to Grady, grappling with how to approach this. He moved in on me before I could say a word.

I tensed when he grabbed my arm.

My muscles tensed, ready to pounce.

“We’ve only got a few seconds, so I’m going to make this quick. I know who you are, and I’m trying to grab what was left for you, but it’s proving a little more challenging than I anticipated. Did anyone follow you here?”

“No,” I whispered, barely able to speak over the giddy rush sweeping up my throat.

“Good.” We both heard a thump overhead. Ashleigh, heading for the stairs. “When they get back, just follow my lead. Real quick—Nicole, is she . . . ?”

His eyes asked the question that he couldn’t utter, and I bowed my head, feeling the burn in the corners of my eyes.

I heard a gruff sound, like Grady had something stuck in his throat. “She told me to assume as much, if you came knocking.”

A pause. And then, “That boy—you vetted him, right?”

“Vetted?”

He scowled. “Check out his fingerprints, search his name? I guess not, based on your reaction. I’d hop on that, if I were you.”

Hop on a fingerprint search? How exactly was I supposed to do that?

His gaze dropped to my throat. To Mom’s pendant. He shook his head. “Damn. I don’t know how she did it,” he said, under his breath.

“Did what?” I whispered at the same time we heard Ashleigh around the corner. He shook his head and stepped back.

“Nothing. It’s nothing. Look, I’m trying to get the files she left for you, but I need a little time—”

Footsteps pounded down the stairs and he stepped away. I wanted to reach out, grab his shirt, and yank him back, demand that he finish what he’d started. But Ashleigh was almost back, and then the front door creaked open, and the opportunity was lost.

“So, good news,” Grady said when they both reentered the kitchen. “Mila and Hunter are going to spend the night. We wouldn’t want to send them back out this late.”

Ashleigh’s mouth fell open a little, and her shocked eyes darted from Grady to me. Meanwhile, Hunter handed me my sweatshirt without saying a word.

“Is it okay with you? You seemed so tired on the way out,” I hastily filled in, and he shrugged.

“Sure, sounds great. Thank you,” he added, for Grady’s benefit.

Grady waved him off. “Glad to help,” he said gruffly. “I’ll leave the gate open for now so you can gather your stuff. Now, Ashleigh, can you show them to the guest room? Good thing we’ve got two twin beds. I’ll check back in in the morning.” He raised his cup at us, as if in salute, but his brown eyes caught mine in a meaningful glance, before he turned and headed out.

Ashleigh watched him leave, her expression thoughtful. “Well, you two certainly worked some kind of voodoo. Gramps is a good guy, but he’s not what I’d call hospitable.” With a tiny wave of her hand, she motioned us to follow her to the staircase. “Why don’t you go grab your things, and I’ll wait here.”

I followed Hunter to the front door, waiting inside while he trotted out to the car and returned shortly with our bags. I made a move to rejoin Ashleigh but his hand on my elbow made me pause. “I’m sorry you didn’t find what you were looking for,” he whispered, his eyes a little bloodshot from lack of sleep.

“It’s okay,” I said, taking his hand in mine.

“There’s always tomorrow, right?”

I wasn’t prepared for the sudden stab of pain in my chest, right in the vicinity of my pseudo heart. The last day or two, I’d been swept up in the way Hunter made me laugh or how he looked at me. But it was his hopefulness that kept me going. When I sent him away, he’d take tomorrow with him . . . and honestly, I was afraid of what would be left behind.

We followed Ashleigh upstairs, to a narrow berth that branched in two directions. She led us to the last doorway on the right.

“So, here’s the guest room,” she said, pushing open a door in the upstairs hall. Inside were two twin beds, decorated with mismatched quilts in a riot of colors. A stripped pine chest of drawers and nightstand were the only other furniture, and a big square window was the only thing on the wall. Hunter and I dumped our meager belongings onto the floor.

“Bathroom is the next door over—feel free to help yourself to toothpaste, shampoo, the works. Towels are under the sink.”

After we thanked her, she paused with one hand on the doorjamb, for the first time looking a little uncertain. “If you guys aren’t tired yet, you should come hang out in my room for a while.”

I didn’t really want to—my time with Hunter was so limited as it was—but I wasn’t sure how to say no. Especially when I remembered how she’d said it got lonely around here, with just the two of them. Hunter obviously felt the same because he nodded. “Sure, why not?”

She led us past the bathroom, to the door we’d passed when we’d first reached the top of the stairs. As soon as he saw what was inside, Hunter stepped forward and spun in a slow circle, the hiss of his indrawn breath filling the space around us. From ceiling to floor, the walls were practically wallpapered in posters and original drawings. Reds and blues, blacks and grays—faces with big eyes and crazy hair peered back at us. Manga.

An easel with a purple tarp underneath took up one corner of the room, but Hunter was already striding toward a massive bookshelf that was against the far wall. “Unbelievable,” he breathed, his fingers reverently tracing some of the spines. “You’ve got so much amazing stuff.”

“I know, right?” Ashleigh said, following him over. “I started getting into it when I was ten, and Grandpa just keeps buying them for me. What about you, Mila—do you like manga?”

I shifted my feet. “I’ve never read it.”

“But we’re going to remedy that soon,” Hunter said, though he was too enthralled to bother to turn back and look at me.

They launched into an animated discussion of titles and characters with foreign-sounding names that I didn’t recognize. Forgotten for the moment, I moved around the room, taking in the rest of her belongings. A fancy-looking bed with a black fabric headboard, brightened by splatters of paint here and there. A desk with the newest laptop and a huge laser printer and boxes and boxes of what appeared to be colorful art supplies stashed underneath, the chemical perfume of paint drifting throughout the rest of the room.

I walked closer to a corkboard, where different-colored fliers and pictures overlapped, competing for space. Painting classes, babysitting jobs, and—

“You compete in martial arts?” I asked, reading the announcement.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, once in a while—Gramps insists,” she said, before turning back to Hunter.

My gaze skimmed over to some shelves, and there, on the middle one, I saw a black belt, neatly folded. More than once in a while, from the looks of it.

I glanced over my shoulder. Their dark heads were bent over the books together, almost like a couple, and I couldn’t help a pang of jealousy. I had no right, though. Ashleigh was exactly the kind of girl Hunter deserved to be with. The kind of girl who not only shared his interests, but didn’t have to lie at every turn.

The kind of girl he might end up with, once I turned him away.

I hated the imaginary females that paraded through my head, unbidden, so I turned away in search of a distraction. Anything to ease the sudden weight in my chest. I latched on to the bookshelf and walked over to the far edge. My fingers dragged across several cracked and worn spines, before pausing on one slim volume with a burst of recognition.

Ghost in the Shell.

I knew this title. It was the same one I’d seen Hunter reading back in the courtyard in Clearwater.

Curious, I wiggled the copy out from between the other books. I opened the cover and when my finger touched the first page, a prompt blinked to life.

This was a new one, but . . . why not? After glancing over to make sure Hunter and Ashleigh were still distracted, I allowed my android abilities to take over.

Almost three pages per second, I registered, and as I touched the page again, my fingertip vibrated. I felt a flash of heat, and then letters and pictures converted to an information stream, traveling from the page through my skin and exploding up my arm. The pictures reappeared inside my head. I could barely flip the pages fast enough to keep up.