“On it,” I mutter.
Falcon sits up straighter as we head back down the street and around the corner.
Owen heads out a little further than I’d like, but I know he has to.
We don’t want those fucking security assholes to see we haven’t left the neighborhood.
He parks in an empty driveway of a house with no lights on inside.
“It’s not ideal,” he admits. “But we’ll look more suspicious if we park on the street.”
“We’re a fifteen-minute walk from Barrister’s house,” I tell them, sharing the image of the route that I have on my phone. “It’s inside the gated community. Silver Circle’s website doesn’t share too much information. They say they have the best security systems in the country.”
Owen laughs. “I bet I’ve seen it all before.”
“They have armed guards,” Falcon tells us, speaking up for the first time in hours.
I look back at him. “How do you know that?”
“I applied for a job with them a while back,” he admits. “I didn’t have the experience with weapons they preferred so they turned me down.”
“Damn,” Owen mutters. “It would be better if we could do this without starting a fight, but something tells me that’s not going to be possible.”
“You don’t have a cache of weapons in your trunk?” Falcon asks.
“What do I look like? Victor Hayes?”
“Who?”
“You don’t know Victor Hayes?” Owen raises an eyebrow at me.
I look at Falcon. “Should I know who that is?”
He laughs. “You don’t remember that kid who called the cops on his parents when he realized they were trafficking Omegas? He’s a mercenary now. I don’t how much of what I’ve heard is true, but if he was the one here with us, we’d be all good for weapons.”
“Damn. Sounds like a good guy to know.”
“Yeah, I wish we’d known Barrister’s house was inside a gated community. We could have tried to get some help to meet us out here.”
“Too late now,” Falcon says. “I’m the one guy who contacted them from Silver Valley. They don’t have any other members out here. We’re on our own.”
He steps out of the backseat, and Owen puts his licence and registration into an inside pocket of his leather jacket before we follow suit.
“It’s this way, right?” Falcon asks, pointing forward and heading along the path.
“Yeah, but slow your roll,” Owen replies. “We don’t want those security guys stopping us again.”
Falcon stops and nods. “Right. What way are we headed?”
I look at my phone, enhancing the immediate area.
“Street view,” Owen tells me. “And look to our right. I think we’ve got some forest beyond these backyards here.”
I check and find out he’s right.
“We do.”
“Then, I think that’s our best bet.”
