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He hesitated for a few short seconds, then nodded. Oh, he didn’t like that he needed my help for anything. It almost made me smile, but I took my work very seriously, so he didn’t have to worry about me holding this over his head.
For now.
Instead of leading them to my secret lair, I steered them toward the guest room. In the line of work I was in, I needed a secure set up. While all of my more dangerous jobs were done in a secret room no one would ever know existed, I had an identical, but isolated, set up in the guest room.
It hadn’t escaped my notice that Drew knew her way around technology enough to steal Dion’s servers. That idiotic scrotum sack just hadn’t been smart enough to hide the fruits of his labor. I lusted after this woman, wanted to see her beneath me, over me, or bent over in front of me, but that didn’t mean I would give her the ammunition to be my downfall.
Once they were inside, I shut the door softly behind them, boxing them in with me. For the next several hours, I went into work mode, forgetting all about my agenda with Drew or friendly competition with Rick.
I spent the next several hours taking new photos for IDs, then grilling him over his life, combing through any possible scenarios where he could have been added to a database, or any biological data collected. ER visits, hospital stays, schools attended, and to my surprise, rehabilitation stays.
Merrick Wright…
Now I knew why he wanted to use Rick. Close enough to his real name that he wouldn’t have to adjust too much to using it. And I wasn’t ashamed to admit I’d searched a little harder for some kind of dirt to use as leverage over him. But other than a list of therapy and rehabs longer than my forearm, the man was squeaky clean.
And that worried me. It meant he was good at covering his tracks, and a worthy opponent.
In the end, Merrick Wright vanished with a few keystrokes. His various stays at mental health facilities were divided amongst four or five dead ends, that would never be connected to each other. His vaccination records were replicated and assigned to his new identity with new doctors and new sample numbers.
With records inserted neatly via one of the larger pharma-companies helpful networking of patient records. This part got so much easier over the last twenty years, as medical conglomerates worked to streamline their records. What could have taken days of careful file manipulation and hoping no one went to look for the originals, was just a little control-X to copy and delete followed by control-V to paste.
Rather than getting bored or leaning in to see me work, Drew settled herself in a chair near one of the windows. She had one leg crossed over the other and seemed preoccupied with something on her phone. Reading, not working, because she scrolled far slower.
My new buddy Rick had pulled a chair up next to mine—conveniently putting himself right between me and Drew—while he watched me work. I didn't feel any overwhelming desire to explain my choices, yet when I was working on building a work history, he said, "Could you add culinary school?"
"Pardon?" Had I heard that correctly?
A flicker of a real smile softened his broodish demeanor. "Could you add culinary school? I always wanted to go, but I never found the time. Since we're building the new me, he can be a graduate of at least a basic culinary institute so I can use that as credit to get into a better one, and maybe hone some of my skills."
Was he for real? I leaned to the side a little to find Drew studying Rick with a damn near indulgent smile. Ignoring the sudden pitting in my stomach, I waited for her to give me the nod. She would, particularly since Rick seemed planted deeply in her affections. She spared me a look and when she smiled, it sent a pulse straight to my cock.
Yes, absolutely. There wasn't a lot I wouldn't do for this woman to look at me with even an nth of the softness she showed Rick.
"Rick Drew," he said slowly as I went back to my work.
"Richard Drew, to be precise, but you prefer Rick." This was always easier if you came up with reasons for why you did things. Like why not Rich or Dick? Or Richie? Stupid damn name Richard. Anyway...
"I like it."
With that last bit of information entered, I set my worms loose on the various databases. They would massage the data for one of my canned identities to more fully conform to the parameters of Rick Drew. They weren't huge changes. Definitely nothing that would flag him in a background check or stand out when we created his passport.
Luckily, this particular identity had neverneededone before, so I wouldn't have to do more than get into the State Department's system and generate one from childhood. That, he could then use to exchange to get a real one.
Always better to let the feds do some of my work for me. "The bones are here, along with the framework. I'm hot printing the identification cards, a work badge—defunct now, culinary school credentials, and a driver's license. I set it for California rather than here. That way you can go into any DMV and use it to trade in for a new one."
"Smooth," Drew stated. "And how effectively has he been erased?"
"He's gone," I told her and tried not to bristle under the fact she was questioning me. "Do you need me to work you over the same way?"
Rick growled. Down boy. This was a game and he needed to learn to play nicely.
Drew just laughed at me though, that rich throaty sound delightful. It also gave me a look at her phone screen. She was playing a video game. "Wait, you play Anarchy Revolt?" Tickled didn't begin to describe it.
She thumbed her screen off and gave a little shrug. "I enjoy the game."
"Me too, we should be friends."
And so much more.
