“Was there anything on your doorbell camera?”
“No,” she says through a strained voice. “I thought it was you. That you wiped it.”
Shit. Someonedidwipe it, but it sure as hell wasn’t me. My stomach freezes, and every hair on the back of my neck stands at attention. “I’ll find them for you.”
“How?”
“I’ll check online. American Guy Fawkes prowls certain corners of the internet to make sure no one’s figured out who I am. Other people on the dark web want to stop this bill, no matter the cost. I’ll check if anyone’s posted about a delivery.”Or about you.
Worry hollows my stomach like a grave. Someone’s got their sights set on Daphne, and they sound ready to pull the trigger.
Not on my watch.
“Thank you.”
“Make sure your doors are locked,” I instruct. “Do you have a weapon?”
“I have a gun.” That reminder makes her voice stronger, reinforced with confidence.
“Good. Keep Hawkeye close by. I’ll be at your place in about an hour and a half. I know where you keep your spare key, so don’t shoot when you hear me come in, okay? I’ll call out so you know it’s me.”
“Hey?” Daphne’s faint voice tugs at my heartstrings.
“Yeah?”
“Please hurry. I’m scared.” And I hear it in her voice. There’s a faint tremble in the notes, and the haunted melody wraps around my heart like a noose.
“I’ll hurry, Princess. Get your gun. Stay in your bedroom with Hawkeye. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
Nothing bad can happen to her. I refuse to let that happen. I’ve toyed with her, sure. But the fact that there’ssome sick fuck out there stalking her, taunting her… I can’t stand it. I need to know she’s safe.
I won’t have time to wrap the new car I stole. I’m going to have to swap cars on the way back from D.C. sooner than I’d planned, but that’s fine. The sooner I pack up my shit and get to her, the better I’ll feel.
Right now, there’s an icy ball of rusted metal banging around my chest. In minutes, I’m zipping up my laptop case, tucking in flash drives, and opening a duffel bag to throw in emergency items. A change of clothes. Two of my masks, making sure to leave the Guy Fawkes one behind. If someone’s watching her right now, I don’t want them catching on to the fact that American Guy Fawkes is visiting. Being on the FBI’s Most Wanted list has its drawbacks. And they hate my sense of accessorizing.
There’s a decent monetary reward for whoever has information leading to my arrest, and if that day ever comes, it’ll either be someone who wants the money or some fanatic who wants to shake my hand and play Robin to my Batman.
I work best solo.
I grab my equipment, my Taco Bell, and bolt.
It takes me ninety minutes to reach Daphne’s house. As I’m pulling onto her street, I hack her phone and open the garage door, then disable her Ring app. It’s the only camera on her property.
I quickly make my way into her garage and close the door behind me. Pulling my bag from the passenger seat, I try to open the door from the garage to the kitchen, but it’s locked.
Smart woman.
Quickly ducking outside, I retrieve her spare key from under the potted… lavender?
She’s replanted the roses in a more shaded area. Well, what do you know. She’s capable of listening after all.
With no one around, I quickly pull my neck gaiter up above my nose and slip on a skull half-mask that only covers to the bottom of my nose.
Unlocking the door, I make some noise as I enter. “It’s me, Princess.”
“Tristan?” Hawkeye bounds down the steps in a flurry of excitement. Darting straight towards me, he jumps, trying to climb me like a jungle gym to give me sloppy doggy kisses.
“Hello again, boy. Did you behave for Momma?”
