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“Absolutely not. You keep that in case you need it,” I say forcefully.
“Dad, if someone came upon you now, you can barely stand, let alone fight. I can run. You’re keeping the gun.” Ann ignores my protests, kisses Simon, and then puts her hands on my face. “Which way to town?”
Pointing down the road, I say, “That way. It’s a small town, population is around fifteen thousand. They do have a sizable police force with about thirty full-time officers. Avoid them.”
Her hands drop to her sides, and she rolls her eyes. “Yes, Dad.” She looks at Simon. “Stay close to the road. I’ll find a car. Be on the lookout for me.”
She kisses him again and runs down the road. We both watch her leave, then Simon tightens his grip on me.
“Come on, old man, we need to move.”
With his help, we stagger down the road. My legs feel like lead, and the throb in my arm and shoulder increases. The painkillers have made me sluggish, and my body and mind are screaming for sleep. I keep telling myself I’ve been in worse situations, and I have, but I’m getting older. My recovery time will be longer, and I’m annoyed at myself for getting shot in the first place.
“Why do you think she’ll say no?”
Simon’s question pulls me out of my self-introspection. “What?”
“You said you thought Ann would say no to marrying me. Why?”
Concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, I say, “You want to discuss this now?”
“No, I want you to talk to me. This is my way of keeping your mind off the fact we’re in the middle of nowhere, walking down a dirt road while your daughter saves our bacon.”
A laugh escapes me. “Good job.” I suck in a deep breath. “She has so many things she wants to do.”
“Yeah, and now she has the money, thanks to Stonewall University’s art collection, to do whatever she wants.”
Keeping my head down, I say, “Ann will never be content with ordinary. She’s extraordinary in every way. My girl will want to do something with her life to give it meaning.”
Simon smiles. “You’re right about her being extraordinary. Ann isn’t your typical woman.”
Agreeing with him, I smile. “I like to think I had something to do with that.”
“You did. She adores you. But because of you, she’ll spend the rest of her life in hiding. Keeping to the shadows and hoping no ghosts from her past jump out to get her.”
His words cut me deeply, and I grunt at him. It’s not all my fault. Ann’s mother played a part, and I’ve done everything to keep her safe. Fucking Jonathan Stonewall and his university has made it harder for her. If he hadn’t tried to bribe me into working for him by using Ann as bait, she’d be free, living a normal life.
“It’s not all me. You worked for Stonewall. He asked you to get close to Ann. It backfired on him when you fell for her.”
His lips go into a hard line. “Yeah, you’re right. But now that you two have stolen his precious art, do you think he’ll let you or us live? I’m sure Jonathan Stonewall and the founding families will stop at nothing to find us.”
“Their reach is impressive, but I have a few friends out there who can warn us and, in doing so, we’ll always be a step ahead.”
Simon goes silent, and we both concentrate on the road. After half an hour, I’m exhausted. The throb in my shoulder turns into a stabbing pain with each step. The sound of a car in the distance causes me to stop.
“We need to hide.”
Simon nods and guides me behind a tree. It’s not a great cover, but unless someone is looking for us, they might drive straight past. A white Honda Accord drives past slowly. Simon walks out from our hiding spot and onto the road, waving his arms in the air. The Honda does a U-turn—Ann is driving. She stops, they exchange words, Simon gives her the gun, and then jogs back to me. With his help, I lie across the back seat of the Honda. He climbs into the passenger seat in the front and that’s the last thing I see before I pass out.
Jonathan Stonewall
The founding families of Stonewall University were never told of my affiliation to Jamison Felder, aka the Wraith. The deal in Iran was something I was trying to put together under the radar and without their help. His daughter, Ann, was simply a tool I was trying to utilize to keep her father under control. It’s a blessing in disguise the founding families never knew of my deception. I’m sure with how badly everything has disintegrated, my head would be on a chopping block.
The men I put on Special Agent Flint Armstrong’s house failed in their attempt to kill Felder. Perhaps his alias with the CIA, Wraith suits him better than I could’ve anticipated. By the time they realized he’d escaped their trap, Armstrong had left his home. They had only one chance to kill two birds with one stone. Watch Armstrong’s house to see if the Wraith emerged, then kill him and Armstrong.
They failed.
Although they shot the Wraith and assured me he was most definitely dead, they didn’t get to Armstrong or produce a body. When they went back to his house, the front door was open, and he was gone. It appeared as though he walked out without any of his possessions. Even his wife and child at her mother’s house had disappeared, along with the mother. Wherever they are, they’ve left no trace, which means they have money. It’s a powerful motivator in the seedy underworld, and so long as you pay, you can disappear.
