Lycos (Guardian Security Shadow World Book 3)

by Kris Michaels

  “I'm leaving now. You'll need to put the food in the coolers into the refrigerator and freezer. Make sure you turn down the freezer. I guessed on the clothing sizes. Layering if they are too big would be your best bet.”

  The crunch of gravel under the man's feet and then the slam of the truck door preceded the flash of headlights against the far wall of the cabin. They stood silently as the motor sounds receded.

  “Can we get the food?” Ethan finally asked her.

  “Let's wait for a while, okay?” She wanted to watch the road and make sure he didn't double back.

  Ethan nodded and leaned toward the window. “He brought a lot.”

  She glanced at the porch. “He did.” But it wasn't the supplies that held her attention. No, the man could have come into the cabin at his will. It didn't matter that she'd locked everything. He’d clearly demonstrated that there was no way to stop him from entering the house. What could she do to protect them? How could she ensure they were safe? Once again, someone other than herself controlled her and her son's safety. She closed her eyes and tightened her hold on Ethan. Would this nightmare ever end?

  Chapter 6

  Lycos shifted out of his jacket and snapped the drops of moisture off it before he stepped through his front door. He hung the camouflaged Gortex on the peg to the right of the door and toed off his muddy boots, placing them on the mat under the pegs. The rain-snow mixture had started about an hour after he left the safe house cabin. The forecast was for a gentle warming tomorrow, and then a massive cold front was supposed to push through. The next twelve hours were probably the last of the temperate weather.

  He was glad he'd made the trip to Charlotte and stocked up for himself and the assets. He slipped into dry boots and retraced his steps to where he'd staged his food. It had taken five hours to drive his truck to his hidden staging area and then trudge all his supplies through the mountain terrain. He could have waited a month or two before he restocked, as he was planning on bringing supplies back when he'd completed his next assignment. Now that his on-deck status for Guardian had been rescinded, he combined the resupply effort. He usually dropped a couple grand on food and clothing for the winter, anyway. Adding supplies for the woman and kid wasn't a hardship. Hell, he'd probably overspent for two months, but kids ate a lot, right? If he’d had access to food when he was growing up, he would have eaten constantly. He was always hungry at that age. That hollow, empty, needy feeling echoed through most of his memories. Pain was the other constant. Childhood sucked. Enough said.

  He glanced at the clock as he shoved the last ten-pound bag of flour into a plastic bin that held all his baking supplies. The effort kept his staples dry and away from any unwanted visitors who might find their way into his home.

  He rolled his shoulders and glanced at his watch before he made it into his office and rewound the tapes of his surveillance of the cabin. The woman had waited almost an hour before cracking the door open. Huh... She had the boy shut the door until she approached and knocked on it. The kid was probably instructed to lock it too. She carefully examined each bag before she allowed it into the house. He watched her go through the coolers before she dragged them to the door. He should've thought about that and bought more coolers to make the load lighter. The diminutive woman struggled to tug the weight of the filled containers. He chuckled as she held up the clothes. Yeah, the coats were too big. She didn't try on the snow boots, but she did examine everything before she took them into the house.

  Lycos reset his surveillance. If the woman kept up her cautious nature, this assignment might not be a royal pain in the ass. Right. He rolled his shoulders and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling bookcase. Out of routine, his hand traveled to the eighth shelf up from the floor, and then over to the seventh book from the left. He pulled the top of the book and heard the latch behind the shelf click. Pulling on the reinforced wood, he dislodged the unit and swung it open. The vault door was an engineering success. He'd built the vault. He’d cut the metal and reinforced the simple looking door, making it damn near impenetrable. The seven-digit combination was a matter of muscle memory now. He waited until the light flashed and placed his hand on the wall-mounted scanner. The door clicked open, and he walked into the weapons vault which also held one of his many savings accounts. Small bricks of gold and stacks of gold coins lined a shelf to the right. The next cabinet held his trade tools. Passports, visas, foreign currency, driver's licenses, national identification numbers, healthcare cards, pictures of families he never had but who made his covers believable. The architect Guardian employed was worth his or her weight in gold.

  The items in this room were apparitions although they were physical manifestations of his work identities. All were things he couldn't live without, things that allowed him to be what he needed to be to do the job Guardian required. Of course, all of his resources weren't located here. He had other safe places around the world which held the means to become whomever he needed to become. Plus, he was the owner of a figurative ass-load of digital money in secure accounts across the globe. However, he didn't trust the world not to fuck itself one day. He'd be set financially should the world's economy implode. If it didn't? Gravy. But the craziness and chaos off the mountain was too insane to ignore. He pulled six more gold coins out of his pocket and stacked them along with the others.

  The best of the best in modern warfare comprised the arsenal that lined the walls. The cabinets held ammo for each weapon under the appropriate firearm. Clean, concise and uncluttered. It was the way he liked things. He hated complications; unexpected wrinkles were unacceptable. His eyes traveled to the cabin surveillance monitor in his office. Unacceptable, unneeded and a pain in the ass. Dammit. He exited his vault, secured it, and replaced the bookshelf.

  His gaze searched the screen, assessing the dark safe house one last time before he padded into his room and then into his master bath. The lights turned on as he entered, and he flipped a switch on the wall that started his shower. The mix of hot water from the natural springs and the fresh water from the well he'd drilled was always the perfect temperature. He used only natural and biodegradable soap and shampoo. He bought enough for a year at a time online. The water he used for the shower and washing dishes and clothes was piped out of his home through charcoal and sand filters to a flat area on the other side of the mountain. One of these days he'd plant a garden. He laughed at the thought. Or not. His thumb was not green. He could kill a rock.

  The shower fell from the cave wall in a sheet. The waterfall had a natural stone seat under it. Lycos had engineered his home to utilize what nature had provided, and he made damn sure his footprint on the environment was next to nothing. He'd been to too many countries that had obliterated their natural resources and their wildlife. He could see the same thing happening in America—gluttonous people consuming more than they needed, leaving desolation in their wake. He rinsed the shampoo out of his hair and groaned. In general, he hated people and preferred solitude.

  He closed his eyes under the downpour of water. Moriah's face flitted across his mind's eye. The relationship they shared had been his one attempt at normalcy. Well, as normal as two assassins could get. He chuckled to himself and stepped out of the shower, stopping the water with a flick of his fingers. He grabbed a towel and mopped off. Sometimes he allowed his mind to cast the 'what if' net. What if he hadn't pushed her in that club back in D.C.? What if he’d tried harder to be more available to her? What if he'd gone after her?

  He tossed his used towel back on the hook he'd mounted into the stone wall. If he was honest, the breakup was for the best. She was one of three people who knew his real name. Well, his first name. He'd learned hers, too. She'd reinvented herself many times, as had he. Those names, Ryan and Miho, were just jumbled letters that languished in their past. He had many names now. The plethora of passports, the languages he spoke, and the assignments he took all created new, unique versions of the same person. His existence formed a prism that split the spectrum o
f death into many different people, all with the same face, and the same consciousness… or lack thereof.

  Moriah was right to walk away. Eventually, he would have had to do something about the vigilante justice that consumed her. Now he could claim plausible deniability. Still, she was his first real relationship, if one could call what they had a relationship. Fucking on a routine basis qualified for that title in his book. After a fashion, he mourned her loss. He no longer went to the cities and enjoyed the nightlife they provided unless he was on assignment. Meeting up with her had pulled him from his mountain. Now only assignments and the need for supplies drew him away from his solitude.

  He turned back the thick mink blanket and slid into his bed. The lights darkened, and he listened to the small sounds of his home. He chuckled at the sound of the dog's claws ticking as it came down the hallway. “You better not be muddy.”

  Dog chuffed as he entered the bedroom. The great beast sniffed around the room and left as silently as he'd entered. Lycos had engineered a wolf-sized doggie door for the animal. He'd injected a chip into Dog's neck, much like a microchip people in the cities used to track their dog if they disappeared. This chip, however, activated the door, allowing the dog access to his home whenever he pleased. It worked for Dog, who relentlessly patrolled the mountaintop, and it worked for Lycos. He enjoyed the occasional visit. Besides, he and Dog had an understanding. No dead animals in the house. Lycos rolled over and pulled the blanket up to his neck. Someday, Dog might agree to their understanding.

  Lycos stacked the last cord of the old pine tree he'd chopped earlier this summer. He'd have fuel this winter to heat his home if the solar panels stopped working. Which reminded him, he needed to go check the generator at the safe house. It should automatically switch on if the solar array malfunctioned, but preventative maintenance was necessary. He'd seen the woman and child leave this morning before he started work via his camera system. They were an interesting study. The woman was beautiful, and the kid? Well, he didn't seem to be a snot-nosed brat, but looks could be deceiving. He was withholding judgment. But he checked on them before he left this morning. Rewound that digital camera to the timestamp where the duo had headed out, taking a small backpack with them. He watched them until they were no longer visible as they tracked toward the main trail to the ridgeline. They’d left for their walk before he’d headed out to chop wood.

  He glanced up at the sky. Snow clouds were socking in the area. Grey and full, the clouds would release the first big storm of the winter. Normally, winter started in fits and spells in the mountains, but it was going to be damn cold tonight, according to the weather reports. He'd go to the cabin tomorrow. He could fire up the generator, do what he needed to do and be gone before the woman died of a heart attack. Maybe. She was wound tight.

  He made his way into his cave and slipped out of his boots before he headed up to his office. It was probable the duo were back already. It seemed like the woman kept them pretty damn close to the cabin. He glanced up at the skylight. The clouds were making it dark earlier than usual. He flicked the monitors on and waited for the surveillance cameras to load.

  That's not right. No lights were on in the cabin. His eyes popped up to the skylight above his desk again. There wasn't a lot of natural light in that cabin and watching the woman over the last week, he'd noted her routine. The lights should be on by now. He rubbed his stubbled jaw and rewound the feed quickly. No... they hadn't come back yet. He flicked his wrist noting the time. A half hour of daylight left... maybe.

  Dammit. He stalked back out of his house and booted up, grabbing the emergency pack that was stationed by the door. He made it through the chute, around the massive boulder and let out a long, shrill whistle. Dog would make tracking easier, especially if... He stopped and tipped his head upward watching large beautiful flakes of snow drift down from the heavens. Make that when the snow started to accumulate.

  He headed around the ridge with a steady, quick pace. Dog would eventually catch up to him. The animal roamed a vast territory but had never failed to find him when he called. It could take an hour or more sometimes. Lycos stopped at the very top of the ridge and filled his lungs, whistling again. He waited for several long minutes before he heard a low, mournful howling response. Good, the animal had heard him. He turned and set a grueling pace toward the safe house. He'd start at the cabin and track them as far as he could in the dark and the snow. When he lost the trail, Dog would lead.

  Chapter 7

  “Mom, we’re in trouble, aren’t we?” Ethan clung onto her hand as they stood beside the steep incline.

  She didn't remember anything like this. She glanced down at her son and smiled. “We're fine. We just need to look for our markers, right?”

  “We've been looking. I'm cold and hungry.” Ethan shivered next to her. They weren't supposed to be gone long, but they’d found a trail and had followed it for a short distance. She'd seen what she believed to be a black willow in the distance and wanted to harvest a bit of bark. Stupid. So damn stupid. What was she going to do with it? It wasn't like she needed it for its medicinal purposes. Once she’d harvested some bark, they'd been distracted by a couple of rabbits feeding near the base. They’d followed them quietly, watching the greyish-brown furry bundles until they scampered away. When she’d looked up, she couldn't see the willow or the trail. She couldn't find the small pieces of old dish towel they'd wrapped around bushes so they could find their way back, and the temperature had plunged.

  Bethanie shrugged out of the huge, red plaid jacket that had a thermal lining in it. “Here, put this on.” The thing went almost to her knees. It would keep him warmer. The cold air swirled around her.

  “That's yours.”

  “Yeah, but I’ve got two sweaters on and you only have that lightweight jacket. I'm not really all that cold. Put this on over your jacket and let me take the pack.” Did mothers burn in hell for the lies they told their children?

  “You’ll freeze.”

  “I’ll be fine. If I get too cold, I’ll let you know.”

  “Promise?”

  “Sure.” Not happening. She looked around and shouldered the little pack that held nothing but the garbage from their lunch and that damn black willow bark. Stupid. She was so stupid. Harvey's caustic words played over and over in her head. Pathetic. Stupid. A waste. She shook her head. Oh, God... what were they going to do? How could she find a way back to the little house? Night was crowding around them, and it was so damn cold.

  She glanced around and then tipped her head back, looking for... hell, she had no idea what she was looking for, but what she saw were the clouds that blanketed the treetops.

  “Okay, we aren't going to see the moon or any stars tonight, so we can't find the north star. Moss grows on the north side of trees, right?” She'd heard that once. God only knew if it was true.

  “I think that is legend, Mom. Besides, if you're lost, you're supposed to stop and let people find you.” Ethan's chattering teeth made distinguishing his words difficult. Or was it her teeth that were making the racket? Yeah, definitely hers.

  “That only works if people are looking for you. Nobody knows we came out here, so we have to find our own way back.” She kept her words as calm and as a matter of fact as she could. “That trail to the cabin ran to the north. The big trail. Remember?”

  She watched her son as he nodded and then sighed. They both stared at the trees. “There. That looks like moss.” He pointed up at an old tree. There was a greenish white fungus growing on the side.

  “Okay. Then we go that way.” Keeping moving was good. Keeping her blood and body active in the cold would help her stay warm. They’d keep walking. To the north. To the ridgeline. Toward the cabin. To safety. She lost all concept of time, just simply kept putting one foot in front of the other.

  Cold numbed everything. Her legs and arms no longer worked well enough to help them through the branches and bushes. She'd tucked the hand not holding Ethan's into her jeans pocket t
rying to keep it warm. The attempt seemed like a good idea at the time, but her hand burned as the denim slid against her cold skin.

  She stumbled and fell to her knees. “Whoops.” She repeated the word she'd said twenty times in the last hour.

  “Mom, we need to stop. You have to take this coat back,” Ethan's voice wavered as he spoke.

  “‘S okay.” She braced against the snow-covered ground to push herself up. “See?” She carefully wiped the snow off her stiff, numb hands. “Ready?”

  “No, you need to take this coat.”

  “Nope. You keep it. Let’s go.” She put her hand on his shoulder and started forward.

  He stopped suddenly, pulling her attention from her feet. “What?” She blinked down at him. Her eyelashes were clumping with ice and obscuring her vision a bit.

  He lifted his arm. “A dog.”

  She rolled her head in the direction he pointed. She shoved Ethan roughly behind her. That wasn't a dog. That was a wolf. Staring at them. As she watched, the animal lifted his head and let out a forlorn howl. She pushed Ethan again as she stepped backward. A weapon. She needed to protect Ethan. A stick or a rock, anything to protect her son. There.

  She stepped sideways, putting her hand behind to herd Ethan with her. She grabbed at a branch and so did he. She lifted the thick limb, but her hands were so numb it sagged. She propped it under her arm, tucking it to her body. God help her, she'd tear the fur off that bastard with her teeth if it came closer.

  A snap from her right drew her attention for a second. By the time she turned around, the wolf was gone. “Where did he go?” She turned to look for the animal.

  “I'm sure he didn't appreciate the aggression.” A deep voice boomed from the shadows of the trees.

  Bethanie spun so fast she lost her balance and landed on her knees. She grabbed Ethan, pulling him to her. “Who… who are you?”