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“It could all be a lie.” It dawns on me. An act he puts on for a cover. I turn down his driveway as worry starts to eat away at me. Have I been duped? “But there’s no way … I mean, he’s not … That’s not Owen. He has no idea who I am or what I’m after.”
“I’m sorry, Maggie, but I have to say it. We never should have gotten close. He has to know who you are if he is tangled with Duffy. If Parks can’t get shit on him.” Was it a lie? The things he told me about his parents?
I should turn around. Get the hell out of here. Instead, I throw my car into park and grab the sledgehammer. To my surprise, when I go to test the lock, the door opens. He really is laying on the country act thick.
My hand tightens on the handle as my mind races with so many scenarios of how the next few minutes of my life are going to play out. It makes me lightheaded.
“Don’t go in!” Ocean shouts at me.
“He’s a mile from his driveaway,” MOM announces. I enter the house and head straight for my target.
“Magic! Mags? You can’t be hammering his wall when he walks in!”
“You said my cover is already blown,” I remind her as I raise the sledgehammer and swing home.
18
OWEN
The front door is wide open as I pull up to the front of the house. As soon as I open the truck door, Alfie sprints away, dashing inside.
“Wait!” I call, but he’s already long gone.
I pocket my phone, then grab the fake eggs and head up the stairs to the porch. A loud splintering sound comes from inside, then I hear a triumphant “Aha!”
Shaking my head, I stride into the house.
“Wait, what is this? Steel?” Maggie yells.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” I say as I turn the corner and find her gawking at the steel door that leads to the basement. “You could hurt yourself.”
She whirls and raises the sledgehammer. “What’s going on here? Are there women down there? Is that what you’re doing? Trafficking women or doing some sort of torture sex thing with them or, or, or–”
“Hey.” I drop the eggs and hold up my hands, palms toward her. “What gave you those wild ideas?” Worry streaks through me when I see she’s dusted with drywall, her knuckles white as she holds the hammer. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”
“Hurt myself? That’s what you’re concerned about?” Her brow wrinkles. “You … you aren’t mad?”
I glance around at the splintered wood and the bits of drywall. “No. I can fix all this.”
“You aren’t even surprised.” She steps closer, the sledgehammer still raised in her grip. “It’s almost like youknewI was here. Like you alreadyknewwhat I was doing.”
I shrug. “I did.”
Her eyes round. “What?”
“Listen, how about you lower the sledgehammer, let me check your hands, and then we can talk. Okay?”
“My hands are fine.” She brandishes the weapon. “You need to talk.Now. Start by telling me what the hell you have in your basement.”
I cross my arms. “Probably a lot of the same stuff you have in your office at home. Computers, burner computers, lots of hardware to do illegal things, and plenty of toys and gadgets to hide my tracks.”
“Y-you’re a hacker?” The sledgehammer drops a little.
“No.” I smirk. “Not exactly. Not the way you are, anyway.”
She finally lowers the sledgehammer, likely only because it’s heavy, since her expression is still wary. “You know about me?”
“Yes.”
