Page 2 of Remote Access

“I’m surprised he told you that.”

“He didn’t. I caught some shipping labels and recognized one of his holding companies. Had Isaac trace it and it’s a home.”

Excitement lit up those brown eyes and Quincy realized how much he’d missed that look. His friend had taken his firing badly—even worse than Quincy had taken his own.

“Quincy, if that place is what it sounds like, he could have most of the goods there.”

“I know,” Quincy said with a nod. “I’m sure I’ll be headed up there at some point.” He bit into a crisp piece of bacon and groaned at the salty flavor. “So, have you talked to Liam lately?”

“Yeah, he said he and Carter are still getting the shit assignments.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but Carter got hurt.”

“Hurt how?”

“Shot. It was just a graze, but he and Liam both knew it was a warning shot.” He stared at Quincy, fear darkening his face.

Quincy knew why. The job was a hundred times more dangerous when you didn’t have the others at your back. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Gareth said on a long breath. “I’m starting to think none of us will ever be able to stay here. As it is, Carter is looking into opening a business because of that new security system you found on the market. Neighborhood protection or some shit like that.”

“Not interested.” The fury that twisted his gut made Quincy eye his omelet warily. Someone had fucking shot Carter. He thought of the kind man he calledfriendand closed his eyes. “If we can’t prove we were set up, our old friends may never have our backs again.”

“Then they were never friends.” Gareth wiped ketchup off his lip with a napkin. “Have you managed to find anything on Rawlins?”

“Not one thing. He covers his tracks well.”

Gareth closed his eyes. “Liam and Carter are sitting ducks out there. Everyone believes the rumors—that they were on the take like you and me.”

Quincy had never been on the take, not for real. But his efforts to set himself up as the dirty cop Hayrick Letsen believed he was had turned against him. And unfortunately, against his friends.

It was up to him to make this right.

* * *

He became Lane Becker the moment his mother was lowered into the ground. Lane watched, numb, as the box disappeared along with the name he'd carried for twenty-four years. Her body rested in that rectangle of wood and nails, but he knew that wasn't the woman who'd given him life. Heart aching, he closed his eyes, unable to watch any longer.

Lane still couldn't believe it.

A fucking car accident.

Her death had been swift and, according to the doctor, painless. He had to believe that or he'd go insane. As it was, the grief that coiled into a heavy knot in his center felt heavy and pervasive and…permanent. It had been the two of them for as long as he could remember—no father had ever been in the picture.

And he'd sacrificed his soul for her and she'd never known it.

It was one of the things he could stay thankful for—that he’d managed to hide the sordid truth from her for years, even when his unexplained disappearances had hurt her.

Lane's hands curled into tight fists. He had one week before Hayrick Letsen came back into the country and learned of Lisette's death. That wasn't a lot of time to make things right and it wouldn't erase the years of terrible things Lane had been forced to do. But he hoped this one thing—this one reparation—would help him move on in his new life with at least some of his soul back.

And then one day, he'd find a way to exact revenge.

When he turned and walked away from her grave, Lane knew he'd never be back there again. It would be too much of a risk. His solace was the knowledge she wasn't really there. That was just the shell she'd walked around in. Where she'd gone, he had no idea. He didn't believe in an afterlife but he hoped the beautiful energy that had made up his mother was in the air around him.

"Bye, Mom," he whispered as he pulled off his dark gray fedora and climbed into the junk car he'd purchased under his new identity. It was only going to be used for this one trip. Hayrick had two homes—one in Maine and one in Oklahoma—so he was headed to the Sooner State first.

Hours later, the red tearing up the Oklahoma sky fit the anger boiling in Lane's heart. He drove past the state capital just as a wall of flaming sunset roared across the atmosphere. It was impressive, the way night blasted into this part of the world, like it had something big to say and wanted to make sure nobody missed it.

He parked in front of a grocery store in the town of Vailmont, and waited for full dark to set in before he began the trek on foot to Letsen's. It was a wealthy neighborhood with large and sprawling houses, some with gates and some surprisingly open. It was just the kind of neighborhood Letsen would have sent Lane into. Older homes where people born with silver spoons spent money on high-priced collectibles to fill up those big houses.

Lane's anger quickened his steps. This fucker wasn't from old money. He'd gotten rich off Lane and at least one other kid that he knew of. Well,mannow. The last time Lane had seen Helix, two years ago, he'd shot up to six feet. A bulked out homeless kid from Maine. The last expression he'd seen on Helix’s face filled his memory and Lane placed a hand over his churning stomach.

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