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1
Henry Delany looked up the mountain road that led to Hickory Hills where the Black Road Resistance resided. They'd been nothing but trouble since he and his teammates had come to town more than a year ago. They'd set off explosions, cut wires, raided and damaged businesses, shot at them, fought with them and generally been pains in the ass.
"What are you looking at?" Myles Sager, one of his teammates, asked.
"Just wondering when all this will be over with the BRR."
Myles chuckled. "Aren't you protecting the negotiator?"
He glanced at Myles, and grinned. "When she gets here. But these things can take a while."
Myles nodded. "Okay. Well, let's hope she can work something out with them sooner rather than later."
"Yeah." As he turned toward the trailer that served as the office on the construction site, his phone rang. Pulling it from his back pocket, he glanced at the readout, surprised to see the number of a realtor he'd spoken to yesterday.
"Delany."
"Hi, Henry, this is Zander Zamora. From Picket Fence Realty. Your verbal offer has been accepted."
Henry stopped in his tracks, his eyes following Myles as he continued toward the construction trailer.
Struggling to get his mind around the words he'd just heard, he swallowed the enormous lump that clogged his throat and took in two deep breaths. He felt light-headed and his mouth wouldn't work. Words. He needed to say words. But his brain wouldn't engage, and he felt as though he were trying to conjure foreign words he didn't understand.
"Are you there, Henry? Isn't that exciting?"
Now this was an answer he had words for. He cleared his throat, taking an extra second to recover his thoughts. "Ah, yes, I'm here."
"So, exciting, right? I can bring the paperwork to you or make an appointment for you to come to the office and sign them. Which works best for you?"
"Uh..." His eyes shifted to the construction trailer, which now felt as though it had moved a mile down the road. "I, um, can I call you back?"
"Sure thing. You've got my number. But we'll need to get this offer written up in the next few hours so Mr. DeWitt doesn’t change his mind."
“Yeah, okay, will do.” Of course, he found more words just as the line went dead with an old-school click of Zamora’s desk phone. He pulled his phone away from his ear, gulping large lungfuls of air as he searched for a place to sit down. What in the ever-loving hell had just happened? Not only had he not placed a verbal offer, but it was accepted?
He dragged his feet to the edge of the nearest building on the grounds, the newly constructed barracks which would hold the incoming troops in a few short months. A construction tote pushed against the building called to him and he sank onto it. Holding his phone in front of him, he scrolled through the texts between himself and Zander, to see how the hell he’d gotten the idea he'd made a verbal offer. He'd always assumed one day he'd purchase a farm like his parents had. A hobby farm, a place to unwind, with work that would physically tire him out but also, let his mind rest. It's how he grew up. His parents bought a hobby farm before he was born. Every spare minute, they went to the farm. Sometimes, he and his mom would stay there while his dad was out on missions.
And, sure he'd looked at the old DeWitt farm two days ago. It needed a shit-ton of work. The old man, Perry, had let it go for the past fifteen years. It would be a project, a good project. While he was still an operative, he'd work on the physical buildings and fences, so when he was finally ready to retire he'd have a few chickens, a cow or two, and maybe a dog. He really wanted a dog. A Belgian Malinois. A badass, gorgeous dog that would guard the property and the animals, be company for him in the evenings. It was a great dream, but it wasn’t today’s dream.
Bringing his head back to the current situation, he scrolled through the texts sent back and forth after he'd looked at the farm. Definitely nothing there that intimated a verbal offer.
He needed to clear his head and think about this. Contacting the agent while he was confused would get him nowhere. His heart was still racing like a horse down the track, and he needed to think about work, or anything other than the farm, for a while. Standing, he decided to patrol the perimeter again.
He rounded the corner of the barracks and followed the path he'd worn through the brush from all of his perimeter checks. Focusing on the ground helped him calm down. Work. That was it.
Something glinted in the sunlight, and he froze. Taking a moment, he inched closer to the object and froze once again. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he tapped Myles' picture.
"I thought you were right behind me."
"I was but decided to walk the perimeter. I need you out here. Explosive device. I'm on the west side of the base, behind the containers. Bring gear."
"Roger." The line went dead, and Henry scanned the area for wires or triggers. Anything that might set this thing off.
Sucking in a deep breath, he exhaled slowly. He wanted something to redirect his thoughts, and it looked like he’d found it. Fortunately, before it found him.
He turned slowly when he heard footsteps approaching from behind him. When Myles stepped closer to him, he pointed to the shiny object on the ground.
"Okay, back away and let me do my thing, bud." Myles quipped.
