Exasperation made her face scrunch and huff a sigh. She got under the covers, but defiantly stayed sitting up. He flipped off the light and took his water. He hadn’t made it to the far corner of the bed when she said, “Do you have to go? Maybe you could just talk to me until I sleep?”
Greer settled next to her on the bed. She was lying on her side now, her hands folded together under her head. There was such innocence about her. Maybe he could get her in and out of the Friendship Community before everything got even stranger, but given how things already were, his chances were slim.
“Did you do a lot of babysitting as a kid?” he asked, trying to get her mind off their situation. “You said, given the differences in our ages, that you could have babysat me.”
“Yes. We lived in a small community. Everyone helped each other.”
“Fort Collins wasn’t a small community, even back then.”
“Our social circle was.”
She watched him in the shadowy room. He couldn’t see her expression, but he liked how smoothly she dodged his comment.
“What did you mean when you said by the time I was old enough to sit you, you would have been guarding me?” she asked.
“My grandfather was a spy in two wars, Korean and Vietnam—three if you include the Cold War. He made enemies. They didn’t care that he was out of the business when he retired; they had scores to settle.” Greer leaned his head back against the headboard, remembering times he thought about too often, events that shaped his life.
“My baby sister was murdered when I was six.”
“Oh my God.” She pushed herself up to her elbow. “I’m so sorry.”
“Not much of a bedtime story, is it? My grandfather made my parents move to a house he’d had specially constructed. Each floor had a panic room.”
“Did you ever have to use them?”
“Yeah. One time. But I guess once is enough. He moved in with us. His enemies came again.”
“You think his enemies killed your sister?”
“I know it.”
“What happened when they came again?”
“He and I got my parents and my two sisters into one of the panic rooms, then we took out the bad guys.”
“How old were you?”
“Fourteen. I’d been training with him since I was eight. I was raised to be an assassin.” He smiled and looked at her. “So you see, I wouldn’t have needed you to babysit me. I never was a baby.”
“Eight years old. Greer. Your parents were all right with that?”
“Gramps had worked hard, very hard, to keep his work life separate from his home life. He wanted my mom—his only kid—to have a normal life. She did. She was a kindergarten teacher. My dad was a middle school math teacher. Everything was peaches and cream. My parents thought Gramps was just giving me a break from being around my younger sisters.
“We would go camping, but they didn’t know it was survival camping. We met up with other men and their kids at mercenary camps where we were taught how to fight. How to build shelters. How to fish, hunt, and track. It was like the Boy Scouts on steroids. Every summer was boot camp all over again. We never told my parents what actually happened. Maybe they guessed, but they never asked. By the time I actually got to boot camp, it was a cakewalk.”
“So you’re legit badass.”
Greer shrugged. “I am what I’ve become. Legit or not, definitely badass.”
“Am I safe with you, Greer?”
“Yes.”
She reached over and wrapped a hand around his thumb.
“I’m glad you’re here, Remi. The WKB’s ruthless. For some reason, this particular project is attracting their attention.” He looked at her, wishing he could see her face better. “Any idea why that is?”
“No.”
She answered so quickly—maybe too quickly—to allay his fears.
“You know anyone named King?” he asked.
“I may. It’s not an uncommon surname.”
“But nobody stands out to you?”
She shook her head. “No. Who is he?”
“We don’t know yet. He’s someone who has his hands in everything. He’s one of the bad guys. If you come across him, steer clear.”
“I will.”
“Well, enough talking. You need to sleep.”
“What about you?” she asked.
“I’ll stay until you’ve dozed off. Good night, Remi.”
“Night, Greer.”
He didn’t want to let go of her hand. Even in sleep, she clung to him. He was glad she was here, safe, and not facing the WKB all on her own. It weighed on his conscience that he hadn’t been able to keep Sally safe; he wasn’t going to fail Remi.
Something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. A movement in the front yard—a strange light, anyway. He eased his hand from hers, then went to the window. The blinds were lowered but half open. Spreading two slats of the blinds, he looked out…at a face.
Startled, Greer jumped back, then looked again. Whoever it was had turned away and was moving down the driveway. He bolted from the house. There was no time to check the security system or find out why the alarm hadn’t triggered. The person was moving fast…or rather, disappearing fast.
Greer moved around the cars and out into the black night at the edge of Mandy’s tall farm light, moving farther from the house than he’d intended. The person was gone. Vanished. Another light caught his attention. Blade’s dad was coming over from the bunkhouse with a big flashlight. He closed the distance between them.
“Ryker,” Greer greeted him.
“Greer.”
“Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t.”
“You saw it, too, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“What did you see?”
Ryker shrugged. “Don’t know. A face in the window.”
Greer felt goosebumps on his arms and a tension along his spine. “Was it male or female?”
“Wasn’t there long enough for me to see.”
“Yeah. I blinked and it was gone.” Greer flipped his phone to the security cameras on Mandy’s property. Somehow, none of their alarms had been tripped. He looked over at Ryker, glad he wasn’t the only person who had seen something odd.
He shrugged. “Nothing shows on the cams. Guess maybe it was an owl flying too close to the houses.”
Ryker looked at him as if he were an idiot. “You don’t believe in ghosts?”