Page 22 of Tabitha

Something about seeing him stroking the guns is distracting. Slightly flustered by the image, I stomp over to the drones and computers to keep my hands busy. I set up the drones, charge them, then get to work on the computers and tablets.

When I log into the Belladonnas private network, I’m not surprised to see an email from Darcy waiting.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Security

The security for the surveillance feeds is laughable. I could’ve hacked them in my sleep. Just click the link. It will piggyback off the feeds so you can view them as well.

And you are correct that two people are watching—Sherman T. Buford and another source. I was able to give you access to their whole system.

Love you and happy hunting!

Don’t kill anyone I wouldn’t!

My nose scrunches as I stare at the last line for a bit, unsure if she’s joking or not.

The parting line is actually one of the strict rules I have to follow before I decide if I’m allowed to kill or not, but I’m not sure the girls are aware of my unique…circumstances.

Pierce walks over, hovers behind me, then gives a low hum. “Joke.”

He strides away, entering the house before I can comment. I stare after him, not sure how he’s able to read me so well. Not that he would tell me. Huffing out a sigh, I press the link in the email. The screen flashes, then an upload bar zips across the computer monitor before disappearing. The screen flickers once more, then images of the house pop up across the monitor in four different sections.

Every five seconds, one of the screens would flicker and show another room. There are about a dozen buttons on the bottom of the monitor. The first eight buttons are gray, indicating they are from my grandfather’s security system. When I press one, images of other mansions pop up. All five of them are under surveillance, including Main Street and the surrounding roads.

Gramps was a control freak, not even trusting his own organization.

I’m not surprised.

The last four buttons are red. When I press one of them, images of all five mansions appear. The angles are different. Professional. Without a doubt, Banks had them installed.

I cycle through the different views until Banks and his gang are revealed—Edward Banks, Trevor, Steward, Bruce, and Steve.

My targets.

And they are heading my way.

Chapter Seven

TABITHA

Igrab the Glock and check the magazine, the urge to just take out the threat nearly impossible to resist. Going over the rules of engagement in my head, I search for a loophole. I want to leave this place. I don’t like the way it’s stirring up my past, bringing up memories that are better off left alone.

Unfortunately, I find nothing in the rules that allow me to act on my impulse. Gritting my teeth, I shove the gun against the small of my back, tucking it into my jeans. I rummage around in the box, then pilfer three knives, stashing them on my body—one in a holster between my shoulder blades, one in my boot, and the last, I strap to my thigh.

I flick through the screens, watching my prey.

Two minutes out.

I click off the surveillance monitors, and they vanish like they never existed, living on the laptop like a ghost program. The only way to find the program is if you know it’s there.

I snap the lid closed, then head inside the house. The door to the garage leads into a laundry room just off the kitchen. “Incoming. Two minutes.”

Pierce jogs down the stairs, not looking flustered in the least. He nods, then heads toward the boxes and begins spreading the packing supplies across the surface of the kitchen until it looks like a packing line.

I assist him, only pausing when the doorbell chimes throughout the house. I tug down my shirt and stretch my neck side to side, stoking myself up to pretend I know how to fucking people.

---