Page 34 of Cause Of Death

Fuck me!

Adam’s and my stunned gazes clash, a single thought spearing through my mind. Proving that great minds reallydothink alike, and that Adam and I share the same thoughts, we both open our mouths and speak with a synchronicity that has to be seen to be believed.

“It’s a tracker.”

Another pattering of footsteps heralds the arrival of Leslie and Wisp, just as Henley asks Adam and me to repeat ourselves.

“My guess is that at some point in my youth, Darla had me stuck with a tracker. If what you suspect is true, then she’d want to keep tabs on me, make sure she could get to me at a moment’s notice, although God only knows why. She’s never shown me any consideration or interest outside of what I can do for her. And while I have no doubt that my father would be willing to chip me, he’d at least have the decency to ask my permission first. Or tell me about it after the fact, if I was too young to consent at the time.”

Two menacing growls ricochet around the room, with both alphas utterly enraged by my words. Even Steve—sweet, easygoing Steve—has a thunderous expression on his face, and his hands are clenched into fists so hard they look like they could pound rocks into nothing but dust.

“So, we’re compromised. What do you want to do, Hen? Should we cut it out and then make a run for it? If we get a move on, we could be out of here and on the road in less than an hour. If Di—uh, if Wisp and Kieran can somehow stave off their heats for another twelve hours, we can help them ride it out in San Diego instead of here.” Leslie’s matter-of-factness helps to ease the tension, although they can’t cancel it out completely.

However, it’s not Henley who ultimately decides our course of action.

“No, we’re not leaving. There’s no time. We’ll have to ride the heats out here. I can feel mine building again, and Kieran doesn’t look too calm, either.” Wisp states, and I frown at the exhaustion lacing her tone.

“Kimberly, can you try and hack into the device while it’s still embedded? We don’t know if it’s monitoring Kieran’s vitals or if it’s simply a location transponder of some sort. Steve, can you interfere with the signal at all? Even if it’s to only decrease the signal’s reach to a smaller radius?” Wisp questions the two, and they galvanize the others into action.

“Good thinking, little Wisp. Steve, focus on blocking the signal if you can, then help Adam and I put this place on lock-down. Kimmy, get your gear down here, see what you can do with the tracker, and then see if you can somehow subvert or piggyback on its signal. If at all possible, I want to know where it’s going to, and who’s responsible for it. If you can somehow back-hack into their systems, or whatever it is you do when you destroy someone’s life, then all the better. Whoever put thatthingin Kieran isn’t our friend. Otherwise, Adam would know about it.” Henley spins away from the two, not even questioning whether or not they’ll obey his orders.

“Leslie, can you get a hold of some of our friends, see who’s in the area, and who’s willing and able to assist? We’ll need to intercept any emergency calls coming from the surrounding blocks as well as come up with an emergency that would require our closest neighbors to evacuate. We’ll also need a clean-up crew on standby. Any fucker who steps over the threshold of this house with the intent to harm or steal a member of this family is going to be put down with extreme prejudice.”

Leslie smirks as they nod, clapping first me and then Adam on our shoulders before drawling, “Welcome to the family. You’re now an unofficial Armstrong. We’ll have a celebratory orgy later, once we’ve disposed of all the idiots who are after you. Oh, and by the way,” they pause to tug Wisp into their hold, spinning her in a circle before dipping her back over their arm, “may I officially introduce you both to our lovely omega. You both know her as Wisp, but we all know and love her as Ms. DisaMariah Aloft. Wisp is her code name, because she’s a fucking wisp on the wind. Oh, and she’s an assassin, sodon’tpiss her off.”

Having seen her in action, I can’t argue with Leslie there. However, seeing Adam’s reaction to her status?

A woman who is as lethal as she is beautiful, intelligent, and sassy? She couldn’t have made herself more attractive to Adam even if she was presented to him wrapped up like a gift with a massive red bow and armed to the teeth with his favorite knives and guns.

I can’t wait to watch the fallout.

I haveno idea what kind of techno-wizard powers Kimberly wields, but it doesn’t take her long to set up a base of operations in the master suite itself. She spreads out over the enormous custom king bed, taking up so much space that some of her equipment winds up on the floor. She has several laptops connecting to one another as she cycles through and enables the different security protocols, her fingers occasionally wriggling through the bars of Gizmo’s cat crate to pet the void kitty. Nobody wants him underfoot or injured, so he’s been locked away for his own safety.

With the rear patio having been bricked up to become another bedroom and bathroom, there are only three entrances into the house itself: the front door, the side door leading out of the laundry room, and the garage. The entire house has been fitted with hurricane-grade roller shutters, the close pattern of the metal grille allowing light and air into the house without reducing the security for those inside. The external doors havealso been replaced, the updated entryways made from steel covered with wood paneling. Even the interior garage door has been reinforced.

I guess we have programs likeThe Walking Deadand thePurgemovie franchises to thank that nobody in the neighborhood seems to care that this house has been retrofitted to survive a zombie invasion—or an attack from a group of twisted deviants set on abusing and exploiting vulnerable women, children, and omegas for their dubious pleasures.

Apparently, the house also has two different HVAC systems, with the second one attached to the frame of the roof and disguised as dormer windows. When Kimberly sees my surprise over this revelation, she simply shrugs and tells me, “Easiest way to take someone out is to contaminate their water or air supplies. We have a filtration system fitted, and since we’re on mains water, they can’t really fuck with it unless they want to take out the entire subdivision. So, gassing our air vents is the next best option for them. Lucky for us, Les and I are paranoid survivalist freaks, so we make sure thatallour homes have back-up generators, dual fresh air supplies, and that the secondary units are both well disguised and powerful enough to filter out airborne pathogens such as sarin or anthrax.”

Well,that’snot a scary thought.

Not a scary thoughtat all.

In the hubbub of preparation,I lose track of time. I’ve been kept busy helping first Kimberly set up her temporary workstation, then Leslie with sorting through their contacts, compiling them into two different categories. There’s the discardpile, full of names Leslie’s either been unable to reach at this point, or who are unavailable to assist. Then there’s the list of names who are willing, ready, and waiting for our call to arms. The ones in closest proximity have already let Leslie know that they’re in the vicinity and are on the lookout for suspicious vehicles or activity. There’s another list of names that we’ve palmed off to Kimberly so she can collaborate with them and divert any emergency calls pertaining to us. While she’s managed to trace my tracker back to the Barrow clinic—and probably my mother—the more pressing concern comes from the darker corners of the internet.

Apparently, my buyer is coming for me.

I’m now standing with Steve and Wisp—I mean Disa—and checking over our supplies. We have plenty of food and water—both bottled and filtered from the tap—and Steve is checking through the numerous med-kits. Some of them are high-end generic kits, with anything and everything you could imagine necessary for a simple household. Then there’s the one he pulled out of a battered army trunk. Apparently, this is Henley’sspecialmed-kit, and the one they used when they first patched me up. Some of the items stocked inside I haven’t seen outside of a hospital emergency room, and to say I’m impressed—and a little concerned—is an understatement.

Just what kind of trouble is Henley expecting?

There’s also an abundance of soft furnishings—pillows, cushions, sheets, blankets, duvets, and the like—that are both clean and unscented, perfect for an omega’s nest during a heat. These have all been stockpiled in the master suite, which is thankfully situated at the rear of the house. Since the weakest points of the house are the side with the garage and kitchen, and the bedroom at the front, we’ve gone through the house double-checking that all the windows are secure. Happy with the result, we make sure the lights are off before wedging the doors to thebedrooms and bathrooms shut. When I ask him why, Steve’s answer is simple, yet telling:

“It’s so we can direct the narrative of battle. Short of demolishing the house, if we’re breached they’ll only be able to move in a direction we allow. Plus, they’re likely to cut the external circuit breaker, and if we keep the lights off, we can blind them at the most opportune moment.”

It’s statements like these that make me realize just how coddled and sheltered my life has been. This family, this pack, what must they have already gone through for such contingencies to be planned for? I can’t argue, though, nor do I want to. These decisions have made setting up defensive positions that much easier for us all, and it also means that if Disa and I are instructed to retreat to our nest, then there will be three locked doors between us and the main section of the house. Kimberly will also stand watch to defend us. However, I’m willing to fight, and I’d like to see Henley try and order Disa to hide while her family is fighting on her behalf.

She’ll ignore it and kick ass instead.

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