DAD: There’s a red summer sun but it’s calling for snow
No... My stomach plummets as ice gathers in my veins. Blood leeches swiftly from my face, making me feel lightheaded. For a second, I think I might be sick.
To anyone else in the world, the coded phrase would mean nothing.
For me, it means the life I’ve worked so hard to create, that I’ve been living for the past six years, has now gone up in flames. CeCe Moore might as well have been shot coming into this room. There’s only one reason Dad would’ve sent this text.
The world’s great hitman, William Shelmore, AKA “Anchor”, has been compromised.
This particular message means someone out there knows who Dad isandthat I’m his daughter. It’s a secret that literally only one other person knows, and that secret belongs to my godfather. To the world, Blair Shelmore has been dead since she was seven. No one should know I exist. The fact that they do means this is someone with power, sway, and a vengeance against Dad—enough to dig into every tiny aspect of his life.
It’s my worst nightmare come to life.
Dad went after some of the worst people this world has ever seen, and he’s good at what he does. In his line of work, Anchor’s infamous. His name inspires fear in even the cruelest of men.
Unfortunately, with the notoriety comes danger.
There are whole governments that want to see Dad dead. It’s why, for my entire life, we’ve had to lay low, and why Dad had to create a whole alias for me when I decided that I didn’t want to follow in his footsteps once I graduated high school with my GED. He’d been so careful to keep me out of sight while teaching me to move through the shadows of his world. There wasn’t a single moment during the time I spent with Dad growing up that he didn’t make absolutely sure I was safe from his enemies.
Yet, somehow, they’ve found us.
This is the worst thing that could happen to us.
I check the timestamp of his message. Dad sent this three hours ago. Which means, for three hours, he’s been working to get to our designated meeting spot.
The meeting spot…
Relief and heavy dread collide within my chest, causing my face to twist up into a grimace and my stomach to clench. Dad and I are supposed to reconnect before disappearing together. That’s been the plan ever since I can remember. Iknowwhere I have to go.
But meeting up at Ledger’s place is also the last thing I want to do.
I haven’t seen Ledger since the night I kissed him which was six years ago now. I have nightmares about that moment. God, he probably does too. Shame tries to well up, but I choke it down. Maybe once I get to his cabin, I can apologize and assure Ledger that my crush on him is well and truly over. It would be nice to leave this life, and him, behind without that regret haunting me.
It would be a lie, of course. Despite the humiliation I faced the last time we were together, I’ve still only ever wanted one man.
But Ledger doesn’t need to know that.
Quickly, my fingers tap the buttons as I write back a quick response:
Me: The snow has finally arrived. Hold on, I’ll take a picture and send it to you.
My response, another coded phrase, lets Dad know that I got his message and I am taking action.
When it’s sent, I shove my phone into my backpack, zip it up, and throw it over my shoulder. As I shove my keys into the pocket of my scrubs, the motion-sensor lights in the room go out. Three more bullets fly into the room, lodging in the wall.
As slowly as possible, I sink back down onto my stomach. With slow, even breaths, I crawl back toward the door. Somehow, I’ll need to get to my car and get the hell out of here. For a second, I think of my co-worker and the security guard. No doubt that Tiffany and Eddy are probably dead. That explains why I haven’t seen either of them. Guilt floods my system. It’s my fault that they’re gone now. I’ll have to mourn later, though. It’s time to get out of here.
As I reach for the door handle from the floor, I realize that Darlene was right.
Two more people died tonight, during a full moon.
Chapter 2
Ledger
“Hey, Ledger! Where you at?”
The sound of Wes’s voice grates against my already frayed nerves. I consider not answering. Wes doesn’t need me. If there’s something wrong, he can figure it out on his own.
