Blind Copy (The Technicians Series Book 5)

by Olivia Gaines

  “Can you see yourself loving her and giving them all a good life, Mr. Exit?”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “Then do that,” Mann told him. “Do the one thing that is most unlikely and roll yourself in it, get covered in Pixie Dust or nail polish, and go for it, but more than anything, make one of your own. Raising those two will be amazing. Raising your own is a totally different feel.”

  “So, I should go home and put a baby in the woman?”

  “If she’s ready for that and if you are.”

  “Jeez,” Exit said, throwing back the covers and getting to his feet. “I need a shower and coffee and to hit the road after breakfast.”

  “Plus make your reservations at the lodge for Tuesday,” Mann reminded.

  “On it,” Exit said, grabbing his overnight bag and heading to the bathroom. “I’m glad we had this talk.”

  BREAKFAST WAS A BUSY affair. The Nearys were schedule to come by after breakfast, and Mr. Exit wanted no part of that, so he made a beeline for his shop and got down the mountain. He promised by Tuesday, he would have investment advice for Mann and Yield, and they could take it or leave it.

  On his way down the mountain headed toward Atlanta, he passed through the town of Dahlonega, where he spotted a roadside flea market. He didn’t know what made him pull in, but he was happy he did. An hour later, he loaded into the back of his shop a mint green beach cruiser, complete with white wicker basket and handlebar bell, two crates of fresh fruits and veggies, and a set of dolls for Karli.

  “What in the hell is wrong with me?” he mumbled, nonetheless happy about the haul in his truck.

  A call came in that he wasn’t expecting, and he took it. The unknown number was known to him and it meant there was a job to be done. He felt happy and didn’t want to ruin the buzz by plotting the demise of some sicko who like to play with his dick in an immoral manner. He just didn’t have time for it today.

  “Mr. Exit,” he answered.

  “Hey, are you anywhere near Georgia?”

  “Not really, why?” he asked, lying to the voice on the line.

  “Something has just popped up in Atlanta and needs to be handled,” the voice said.

  “I need at least a few days to scout out my in, plan for my exit, and get away clean. I don’t do stop and pop. It’s not safe for any of us and without Wrong Way, I really can’t risk it for myself or the company,” he said.

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  The voice growled in the line, “You ain’t going soft on me and looking to get hitched like the other three, are you?”

  “There is nothing soft about me, but honestly, having someone to come home to makes a man really think about his actions and not be reckless,” he told the voice. “Wrong Way let her guard down, knowing that fool was on her trail.”

  “That fool is keeping himself busy. He just 86ed a man named Kindred in Kentucky, one of them hippie commune types, left pink glitter all over the bastard,” the voice said. “Poisoned him with some tea, Merge style.”

  “Is he copying our techniques?”

  “Mr. Exit, I’m not sure what the nutty fucker is doing, but you have first right of refusal if the ticket is placed on his head,” the voice said.

  “Can’t put a bullet in my nieces’ father unless the transgression is too great. I’ve done him a disservice as is, putting a bullet in him would be... well, the coins I put in the Karma jar will have been wasted,” Exit replied.

  “Oh, we’re putting coins in the Karma jar, are we? That’s going to go a long way when you reach the pearly gates and the list is read of the number of lives you’ve taken for pay. The Company has made you a very wealthy man,” the voice said.

  “And in return I have done the same for The Company, so please don’t make it seem like you’re doing me any favors,” Exit replied. “I know what I get paid for what I do, and I’m aware that you get a percentage. I’m only one man. You have eight other assassins. A few coins in the Karma jar on your behalf might be worth considering.”

  The voice chuckled deeply.

  “You’re so full of shit. Whether you’re pulling the trigger for God and country or you’re pulling the trigger for 50 Gs a pop, you’re still pulling the goddamned trigger. You are an assassin, so don’t try to candy coat it as anything else,” the voice said. “When I call and tell you to go kill, that’s what I expect you to fucking do.”

  “Tracking,” Exit said, gritting his teeth.

  “So, still no on Atlanta?”

  “No on Atlanta,” Exit said.

  “Fine,” the voice said, ending the call.

  Mr. Exit knew what that meant. The last time they had a disagreement, it was three months before he got another assignment. It didn’t bother him any since he didn’t need the money. He needed the peace more than anything. When his hunches told him no on a thing, he stuck to his guns.

  He was glad he had. The traffic in Atlanta had bottled necked in midtown and getting down I-75 was stop and go. There was no way in hell he was going to do a stop and pop and try to get out of town. Even if he took side streets, the red lights would hinder a clean escape. Already, he tried to avoid the city as much as he could. Secretly he hoped that he could avoid a few more assignments with The Company.

  All of it was getting old.

  Maybe it was time for a change.

  Maybe it was time for a family.

  “Play it by ear and decide when you get home,” he said, wanting to call, but he’d wait. In four hours, he’d pull into his driveway. “I can wait until then.”

  He thought about the omelet. Then he thought about the soup and perfect grilled ham and spinach sandwich. His stomach growled although he had eaten a hearty breakfast.

  Mr. Exit dialed Willow, and she answered on the second ring to his calming voice, “Hey, I’m headed home.”

  “Glad to hear it. Everything went as planned?” she asked.

  “Pretty much.”

  “How long before you get here?”

  “About four hours,” he said, “give or take.”

  “We’ll see you then. Be safe,” Willow said.

  “Will do,” he replied, ending the call.

  RAPHAEL MISSED THE girls. He was anxious to see them and share the goodies he’d brought home. The idea of having to leave again soon disturbed his spirit, but if he’d calculated correctly with Kurtzwilde, then it would possibly be months before he got more work. If, and it was a huge if, he could stay away from the woman until the Archangel presented paperwork, then getting them settled elsewhere wouldn’t be a big thing, but a good thing.

  Kindred.

  Kindred.

  The name Kindred sounded familiar. Kindred in Kentucky. Where had he heard the name? He mulled it over, time and time again, eating away the four hours until he realized Kindred was one of the men at the commune with the girls. Kindred was dead and killed by the Glitter Man as reported by Michael Kurtzwilde.

  “Shit,” he said, picking up speed. “If Proderick Hymn has hired the Glitter Man to take care of Kindred, then has he also hired him to locate the girls. Double shit. If I can have paperwork that states Willow is my wife, if he touches her, legally, I can kill him. Maybe if I adopt the girls, but...shit, if he is biologically their father, then I have no rights unless I kill him too. What is wrong with me?”

  He crossed the bridge onto the Island of Hilton Head, relaxing more by the minute the closer he got to home. All of the arguments he was running through his head came to an abrupt and jolting halt when he pulled the car around the house and into the garage. The pristine patio that he loved to sit and enjoy his morning cup a decaf in the wicker lounge chair was currently littered with teenage bodies. He counted at least eight sweaty, pimple faced figures and one was his own kid who waved at him as he drove by like he was a tourist.

  “What in Merlin’s staff is going on?” He grumbled, parking the vehicle. While driving, he’d given thought to saving the sewing machine for tomorrow to be a bir
thday gift for Willow, but if he started taking items out of the vehicle, the gig would be up. The bushels of fruits and veggies needed to come out now, so they could be prepped and stored in either the freezer or cooked right away. He carried them up the back stairs that led onto the patio.

  “Hey Daddy!” Dusty Rose said, bounding to her feet. She looked adorable in a pair a pink, peony petaled pedal pushers, with a loose fitted white tee shirt that hung off one shoulder. A pink bra strap showed from under the tee. Her cheeks were rosy with joy dabbled all over her face as she ran to him, flinging her body into his arms the moment he sat down the bushels. “Oh, my goodness, I’m so glad you’re home. Look, I’ve made friends.”

  Her thin arms hugged his neck tightly, planting a juicy wet kiss on his cheek. She turned, holding on to his arm and squeezing tightly, as she presented him, like he was a new toy to the group. With pride, she waved her arm about like a fairy godmother granting wishes to the mice who would create Cinderella’s ball gown.

  “Daddy, of course you know Stan Jr., that is Marcella, and Skylar, who is Jeb Malone’s son, the neighbor on the other side. Over in the corner is Jamal, and that’s Brenda, Collin, and LaQuisha,” she said. “Guys, this is my Dad, Raphael Hoyt.”

  Stan Jr. turned down the trap music which sounded like a small child with taffy glued to the tops of his teeth spitting out syllables trying to form big boy words just as Willow walked out of the door with a tray of sliced fruit and cut up sandwiches. The kids all mumbled a greeting to him as their eyes focused on the food. Raphael’s eyes were focused on Willow’s firm bottom. She wore a form fitted dress, cinched at the waist, showing off the hourglass figure he didn’t know she had. The breasts, which had been bobbing freely before, were now harnessed in a bra, making them sit up and pay attention. He was also nearly sitting up and paying far too close attention to the lady, who glided over to him wearing a pair of strappy high heels that accentuated solid calves and smooth chocolate legs. He heard himself physically and audibly swallow.

  “Hey baby, I’m glad you’re home. If you’re hungry, I’ve made you some dinner,” she said, leaning into him and kissing Raphael hard on the mouth. She pulled away issuing orders to the boys, “Stan, Jamal, and Skylar, please grab those veggie bins and bring them inside for me.”

  “Yes ma’am,” the young men said, grabbing the bushels and carrying them into the house.

  He turned to leave, overhearing the girls tell Dusty her father was a DILF. He didn’t know what that was, but by the tone of their voices, he didn’t like it. He didn’t like any of it and he sure as hell didn’t like the idea of being the Kool-Aid house.

  “Willow, when did this become the Kool-Aid house?” he asked, coming in through the patio door and seeing Karli on the couch with a book.

  “Daddy! You’re home!” she said, closing the book carefully and running full speed to launch her small body into the air, grateful her father caught her and spun around in a circle as he hugged her tightly to his chest. “I missed you so much. I have so much to tell you. Especially about Dusty. I saw her kiss that Skylar boy, but Stan Jr. is jealous. It is just a hot mess. I think Dusty likes the attention because that Marcella girl told Dusty she was pretty, and now her head can’t get through the door. Those kids are a bad influence if you ask me.”

  “I missed you as well, Karli,” he said, putting her on her feet.

  The young men waved at him as they went back out the door with Skylar making a beeline for Dusty, plopping his hormone ridden body in the lounger with her. Raphael was about to go out the door and drag Skylar down the back stairs by the three hairs on his chin, but Willow’s hand on his arm stopped him.

  “Baby, what’s a Kool-Aid house?” she asked, batting the lashes of the big brown eyes that reminded him of liquid pools of swirling lattes.

  “The Kool-Aid house is the one house in the sub-division where all the kids go to hang out. Usually the mom sold things like Kool-Aid freeze cups, chips, and candy. The Kool-Aid house also had two or three pretty daughters, which brought all the drone bees over in search of the queen,” he said, scowling and leaning back to look out the door at Skylar Malone.

  A soft patch of fur grazed his ankle, making him jump nearly a foot in the air. “What in the hell? Is that a kitten? Where in the hell did you get a kitten? And why is it wearing a hat?”

  “Daddy! Careful or you’ll scare him,” Karli said. “That’s Daniel Craig.”

  “Daniel Craig?” he asked with his eyes wide.

  “Yes, because he’s got blonde fur with that one blue eye. Mommy showed me movie covers of the James Bond movies she said were your favorites, and that man is blonde with blue eyes, so I named the kitten after him,” Karli said, grinning at her father, who smiled back.

  “Willow, a word please,” he said, looking at the ball of fur sitting in the middle of the floor staring up at him. “That carpet under the dining room table is Persian. My mother flew to Iran to buy that rug. The rug itself had airfare back to the US. That cat is not going to use that vegetable, hand dyed rug as a scratching mat.”

  “Relax, he doesn’t have claws. He’s also gotten all his shots, and we have an adoption certificate for him as well,” Willow said with a smile.

  Before he could argue any further, he heard a squeak of a bark and a beagle ran into the living room, bounding onto the couch next to Karli. Raphael pointed at the dog wearing a red and blue striped necktie with his index finger. His eyes were wide as he opened his hands in a What the hell is this Willow? expression.

  “That’s Pierce Brosnan,” she said with a warm smile. “The good news is he’s housebroken. He’s a loving animal, and thus far Dusty has been pretty great with him.”

  “I was only gone two and a half days,” he said, flopping down in the large recliner, only to sit on the dog’s squeak toy. The sound made the beagle snap to attention, bound to the floor, and wait for the object to be thrown at him. Raphael tossed the toy and Pierce ran after it, securing it in his teeth and bringing it back. One paw touched the leg of the expensive pants he wore and Raphael’s eyes went to Willow. It was then that he noticed all the touches around the living and dining room.

  Pops of color adorned each and every nook and cranny. It no longer felt like an empty Vacation Rental By Owner, but a home; a home with a dog and kitten who seemed to get along. The kitten had perched itself next to Karli as she read. A few scratches behind the ears under the lid of the hat and the kitten was content. The ball of fur curled up and began to snooze.

  “Please, Willow explain this to me,” he said.

  Instead of simply explaining, she walked over, slipping her hand into his and pulling him to his feet. “Wash your hands first then come to the table,” she urged.

  He did as he was told, noticing the bathroom towels in the water closet for guests had been changed out to a warm color scheme, adding a new feel to the bathroom. It felt cozy and he liked the alterations. Raphael relieved himself, washed his hands, and entered the kitchen. New placemats were on the table with a centerpiece that screamed Martha Stewart on a bored binger with a bag a sea shells. Evidently Willow had located a glue gun and some old holiday candles and created, well, he didn’t know what the hell that thing was, but it worked with the décor. His stomach growled as he took a seat at the table.

  “I found some lamb chops in the freezer,” Willow said, placing the plate in front of him. “The asparagus was on its last leg, but I think I did pretty good with it along with a bit of jasmine rice. Also, there is cake for dessert. Chocolate cake. I really hope you like chocolate.”

  “I enjoy the taste of chocolate,” he said, staring straight into her eyes.

  “I just bet you do, Mr. Hoyt,” she said with a wink. “Now before you fly off the handle about the animals, children need pets to teach them responsibility and non-selfishness.”

  “Where did you get them? Again, I was only gone two and a half days,” he chuffed.

  “Monday afternoon we walked down to the beach, and they were
doing adoptions by the pier. I told the woman we didn’t have any money to buy an animal and Pierce was the last puppy. I think the lady was ready to go and she wanted the dog to have a good home, so he has a good home,” she told him.

  “And the kitten?”

  “Well, see what had happened was...Skylar told us about the Rec Center, so on Tuesday we walked down there, talking Pierce for a walk. The same damned people were back and they had more animals, and that darned kitten jumped out of the box and went straight for Karli,” Willow said. “She fell in love with him and now we have a kitten.”

  “You just let her bring home a kitten?”

  “Raphael, Karli disappeared for a day and a half and came back with you, so who am I to question the talents of that child?”

  He burst into laughter. All of it was so nonsensical that he couldn’t help but laugh. He cut into the chop and shoved a piece in his mouth. In less than three seconds, all the blood in his body had rushed to his crotch. The meat was flavorful, tender, and melt in his mouth delicious, making him rock hard in delight.

  “Dear Heavens, woman, this is amazing,” he said to her.

  “I wanted you to come home to a good meal and happy family,” she said, placing her hand on his shoulders. Willow gave his shoulders a bit of a massage and then a gentle squeeze. There were other things she wanted to say, but Karli interrupted them.

  “Daddy, I don’t mean to be ungrateful and pushy, but did you bring me anything back?” she asked, looking at him with those big brown eyes.

  “I did, Pooh Bear. I’ll get it for you after dinner,” he said.

  Willow leaned down, whispering in his ear, “Did you bring something back for me too, Raphael?”

  “Oh yeah,” he said, dropping the napkin across his lap. He knew then, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they were staying permanently. Any woman that could make lamb chops like that needed a red-blooded male to appreciate her talent. “Anything else I need to know before I swallow more of this delightful food?”