his direction, pausing for a second. She was stunning. Caramel skin with dark eyes and full lips. His interface memorized that face in no time. His mind and heart… he couldn’t speak to what they did. Were they not a part of the interface?
She turned her head. “Keep moving,” she told the teenagers. At a distance, he followed them. One or two at a time, she dropped the kids off and was handed something by the adults at the doors. He zoomed in on what she was handed.
Tokens. Currency of Texas cities. She was being paid. For what?
After all the kids had been dropped off, she entered a building.
Torrent did a scan of the map on his interface. Same building as the package. He looked up at the high-rise. More than forty stories tall. How many of those were empty? he wondered.
Time to find a spot to monitor the comings and goings in and out of the building. He looked at the building across the street. Hopefully he could find a vacant space.
----
T orrent set up the radio and unpacked a few rations. He didn’t need much. The interface provided him with a means to burn fewer calories and need less sustenance than the average human.
He’d found the perfect little spot to watch the building from: a corner office with a floor that was missing. He’d had to walk across steel beams and swing from thick electrical cording to get to this niche, but it was ideal. He had a great view of the front door of the building that the package and that caramel-skinned beauty both occupied.
If he only knew what floor the package was on.
And what floor the raven-haired beauty was on.
Yeah, he couldn’t forget about that stealthy, sneaking, curvy hottie.
Chapter Five
A lyssa set Gillie down in the chair. She pushed the little teacup with a soft-boiled egg in it closer to him. She’d cracked and peeled just enough of a hole in the top to dip toast strips.
“Here’s how my father taught me to dip them.” She poised one strip, ready to dunk.
A knock interrupted her.
Knocks on the door when everyone was at work were rare. And alarming. It couldn’t be anything good.
“Hide,” she told him. “Hide, and do not come out until I tell you. Do you understand me, Guillermo Cantu?” Her voice was a low hiss. “And whisper or just nod. No, just nod. Do not talk.” She placed her fingers over his lips.
“Yes, Mommy Lyssa.”
She shook her head. “No.” Her voice was a vehement whisper. “Do not talk.”
Her nephew nodded. His wayward curls, hair that was long enough to belong on a girl, bobbed with the nod. His brown eyes were wide with fear, solemn and far more mature than a three-year-old’s eyes should have to be.
Her heart felt heavy for her young nephew. She’d have to talk to him about calling her Mommy. She didn’t want to take her sister’s place as his mother.
There was another knock at the door. Louder, more insistent.
Was it soldiers from the League of States? Could it be privateers? She wished she had a peephole, or a window she could look out of to see who it was. Fear petrified her muscles, making it so she couldn’t move.
She indicated the closet for Gillie to run and hide. The little one took off on chubby legs, looking back once to smile at her, seeking approval. She nodded, smiled back, and made ‘hurry up’ motions with her hands.
He plowed into a pile of clothing on the closet floor, burying himself deep under the articles they didn’t have hangers to hang up.
Alyssa pulled the closet door shut behind him, saying “Coming,” as she closed it so that if it squeaked, her voice would hide the sound.
She approached the door on shaky legs, nervous, not knowing what was on the other side. With an equally shaky hand she turned the deadbolt and pulled the door open.
She was greeted by brilliant blue eyes, short blond hair, an extremely muscular physique, and a mouth with perfect full lips set in a ‘no nonsense’ flat line.
The blond head nodded a greeting. “I’m looking for Melissa
She turned her head. “Keep moving,” she told the teenagers. At a distance, he followed them. One or two at a time, she dropped the kids off and was handed something by the adults at the doors. He zoomed in on what she was handed.
Tokens. Currency of Texas cities. She was being paid. For what?
After all the kids had been dropped off, she entered a building.
Torrent did a scan of the map on his interface. Same building as the package. He looked up at the high-rise. More than forty stories tall. How many of those were empty? he wondered.
Time to find a spot to monitor the comings and goings in and out of the building. He looked at the building across the street. Hopefully he could find a vacant space.
----
T orrent set up the radio and unpacked a few rations. He didn’t need much. The interface provided him with a means to burn fewer calories and need less sustenance than the average human.
He’d found the perfect little spot to watch the building from: a corner office with a floor that was missing. He’d had to walk across steel beams and swing from thick electrical cording to get to this niche, but it was ideal. He had a great view of the front door of the building that the package and that caramel-skinned beauty both occupied.
If he only knew what floor the package was on.
And what floor the raven-haired beauty was on.
Yeah, he couldn’t forget about that stealthy, sneaking, curvy hottie.
Chapter Five
A lyssa set Gillie down in the chair. She pushed the little teacup with a soft-boiled egg in it closer to him. She’d cracked and peeled just enough of a hole in the top to dip toast strips.
“Here’s how my father taught me to dip them.” She poised one strip, ready to dunk.
A knock interrupted her.
Knocks on the door when everyone was at work were rare. And alarming. It couldn’t be anything good.
“Hide,” she told him. “Hide, and do not come out until I tell you. Do you understand me, Guillermo Cantu?” Her voice was a low hiss. “And whisper or just nod. No, just nod. Do not talk.” She placed her fingers over his lips.
“Yes, Mommy Lyssa.”
She shook her head. “No.” Her voice was a vehement whisper. “Do not talk.”
Her nephew nodded. His wayward curls, hair that was long enough to belong on a girl, bobbed with the nod. His brown eyes were wide with fear, solemn and far more mature than a three-year-old’s eyes should have to be.
Her heart felt heavy for her young nephew. She’d have to talk to him about calling her Mommy. She didn’t want to take her sister’s place as his mother.
There was another knock at the door. Louder, more insistent.
Was it soldiers from the League of States? Could it be privateers? She wished she had a peephole, or a window she could look out of to see who it was. Fear petrified her muscles, making it so she couldn’t move.
She indicated the closet for Gillie to run and hide. The little one took off on chubby legs, looking back once to smile at her, seeking approval. She nodded, smiled back, and made ‘hurry up’ motions with her hands.
He plowed into a pile of clothing on the closet floor, burying himself deep under the articles they didn’t have hangers to hang up.
Alyssa pulled the closet door shut behind him, saying “Coming,” as she closed it so that if it squeaked, her voice would hide the sound.
She approached the door on shaky legs, nervous, not knowing what was on the other side. With an equally shaky hand she turned the deadbolt and pulled the door open.
She was greeted by brilliant blue eyes, short blond hair, an extremely muscular physique, and a mouth with perfect full lips set in a ‘no nonsense’ flat line.
The blond head nodded a greeting. “I’m looking for Melissa
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