Page 74 of The Wrecked One

Oliver leaned forward, resting his free hand on his thigh. “There’s no we. You’re not getting any more involved than you already are.” He glared at Malcolm next as if he needed that warning, too.

Cindy squeezed Sam’s arm over his jean jacket, like she was trying to pull her guy back before he went off on Oliver. It didn’t seem to work, because Sam copied Oliver’s posture, chest forward and eyes locked on to his son’s. “Like hell I’m not helping. These pricks came to our town, chased you down, shot at you and my plane, and?—”

“They didn’t shoot your plane,” Oliver interrupted, and Sam dismissively flicked his wrist, grumbling.

Well, aside from a few stray shots when you made a run for it, they didn’t.

“Coffee, anyone?” Vanessa said, reading the tension in the room, probably deciding the guys needed some privacy for this conversation.

Cindy was on her feet next, already on her way from the room, offering, “I’ll help with that.”

“Me, too.” Malcolm quickly retreated.

Were they expecting me to take the hint and follow them, too? I had no plans to go anywhere, I was too deep in this mess.

“And they would’ve shot at my plane if?—”

“If I wasn’t on it,” I whispered, interrupting Sam when a new theory hit me as to why else those six men didn’t take out the Cessna while I was in it.

“Wait, what?” Oliver freed his hand from mine, twisting on the couch, waiting for me to explain.

“They didn’t shoot at our truck. They didn’t take down the plane while I was in it.” I closed my eyes, pushing at my forehead as I worked to put the puzzle together. “They stopped giving a damn about making it look like an accident once they opened fire on you at the runway.” I swallowed, my heart rate flying. “So, at that point, why not just take out the plane, ensure we couldn’t get away. Kill me.”

“My son and the others were keeping them a little busy.” Sam pointed out what I’d assumed to be the reason back at the runway, but what if there was more to the story?

“Yes.” I opened my eyes to give him my attention. “But what if those men were ordered to keep me alive?” My palms became sweaty as another oh-shit thought struck me. I stood abruptly and Scrappy scrambled to all fours on alert. “Steve.”

“Steve,” Oliver echoed, waiting for me to continue my line of thought. “What about him?”

My arm banded across my midsection as I located one more puzzle piece and secured it in place. There were still a few more missing, but . . .

“I went to New York for two days for the Fourth of July. Sydney, her husband, and their kids were with me as well. Steve came along for extra protection. It was his first time going anywhere with me. Someone from Falcon, or Mason, had escorted me on the two previous trips to see my parents.” My skin broke out into goose bumps as more pieces clicked. “The day we were leaving, Gwen called to let me know she found you in Zurich.”

“What are you saying?” Oliver’s tone dropped lower, but he knew exactly where I was going with this.

“Aside from Easton and Teddy, the only people outside Falcon who knew Steve was working with us?—”

“Were your parents.” Sam had completed the thought I didn’t ever want to say. But now the idea was out there in the world, and we had to examine the possibility.

“There has to be another way The Collective learned about Steve. They probably had eyes on you when you visited with your parents, and they—” Oliver abandoned his words, realizing the problems with what he was suggesting.

The Collective would’ve followed us back to the safe house and found our location if that was the case. All of Falcon would’ve either been screwed, or alerted by the hacker we’d been compromised. And since that didn’t happen . . .

Also, it wasn’t like I’d met up with my parents at Dad’s condo in the city, or Mom’s new post-divorce house in Westchester. “We went to an off-the-grid location in Long Island, followed proper protocol to ensure we weren’t tailed there or back to our safe house in Maine.”

“What exactly are you saying, Mya?” Oliver’s face was tight, lines of worry darting across his forehead as he stared at me, waiting for me to spell it out for him.

“I think my parents are part of The Collective.”

29

MYA

There were hard days, and then there were these kinds of days, where one word couldn’t quite describe it.

Standing on the back deck, I stared at the lake, trying to make sense of everything. From Oliver’s nightmare at four in the morning to now, so much had been crammed into that space, and I wasn’t sure how to fit it all into my mind. Too many feelings. Too much to process.

I heard the glass door slide closed behind me as Oliver said, “I don’t want you out here alone. Actually, I don’t want you outside at all.”

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