Rocko looked around at the quiet street and knew the sun would soon set.Though the town had an inn, he didn’t relish tracking it down and hoping they had a room, but it was the offseason, so it was possible.
Rocko left his truck running for the heat.It was April, but the area was still cold, with temperatures dropping to nearly freezing.The snow had turned to disgusting slushy rain, and the days were gradually getting longer, though there were still remnants of the largest snowbanks in the melting process.
He couldn’t help but think this was a test.After all, he was a stranger.Caution was to be expected from this group.
Rocko settled in.His life as a detective prepared him to wait for long periods on any given case.However long they’d keep testing him, he refused to turn tail, give in, or return to Florida.There was nothing left for him there.He stretched out his legs and lounged back in his seat while continuously scanning the area.
This long fucked-up day had got even longer.
He was on a fuckin’ roll.
CHAPTER TWO
Apollo
“He’s definitely the guy.Detective Rocko Owens.I can sense him and his mutations,” Apollo huffed, still not interested in having visitors but unable to deny Brick’s request.“What are you getting?”He tapped impatient fingers on the table.They were sitting in the restaurant across from the closed diner, which wasn’t open on Sundays in the off-season.
“He’s pissed, but willing to wait.This is important to him,” Griffin said.“He’s tired and frustrated.Probably figured out this is a test.”
“Any red flags enough to bury him?”Apollo said.
“Not getting any yet.I’m not catching a direct threat.”
“Same.He lives for now.”
“Well, that blows my plans for the evening.”
“There’ll be no body disposal without a solid reason.”
“You’re no fun anymore.”
“Yeah, yeah.You keep telling me.”
Apollo had always been able to recognize other genetically mutated survivors.Once he came into contact with one, he could sense their state of being, such as fear, anger, or injury.On the other hand, Griffin could sense danger and heightened emotions, which he attributed to his more animalistic side.
“How long do you wanna make him wait?”Griffin chuckled.They hadn’t had a good cat-and-mouse in a while.
“We’ll give him thirty minutes to see how patient our visitor is.That way, we can return to the compound before dusk if we decide to bring him with us.”
“If not?”Griffin asked.
“Then he stays where he is.Fuck him,” Apollo growled.
“Okay, I’ll go pick up our order at the hardware store and swing back,” Griffin said before standing from the table and heading for the restaurant’s back door as Apollo continued watching the new arrival across the street, parked in front of the diner.
Apollo would let the newcomer sit and wait while he judged the man’s intentions.The guy looked tanned, no doubt from living in Florida’s warmer weather, while they were beginning to see the first signs of spring in upstate New York.The guy was likely used to beaches, resorts, and sunny weather.He swore if the guy bitched about the meager accommodations they offered, it’d be the quickest way to be sent packing.They weren’t the damn Hilton.
Their new start and continued mission began in this remote location, registered under his Iroquois name, Calian Brant, to keep it off the Noah Group’s radar.
Over the past twelve months, he and his team had worked their butts off getting the land to the state it was currently in, and while he couldn’t say it was luxurious, it was livable.Apollo’s mission didn’t involve frills.It was usability and sustainability for his team.Protection and security were high on the list, while excessive comfort and trendy design weren’t even on his radar.
As he watched the stranger, Apollo caught stray impressions.Loneliness was high among them, along with concern, which would be expected under the circumstances.Anger, exhaustion, and something else Apollo couldn’t put his finger on.He’d need more time to get a more accurate read on the guy.
“Would you like another coffee, Apollo?”
Apollo looked up to find the waitress standing a few feet away with a coffeepot in her hand.
“Yes, please, Mary.How’s your father doing?”
