Lycos (Guardian Security Shadow World Book 3)

by Kris Michaels

  She glanced at her son, asleep and unaware of the panic that threatened to consume her. Her phone's GPS had led her to the top of this mountain. The GPS fritzed in and out as she drove around the face of the mountain. It had been doing that since she'd started the climb. She slowed to thirty miles an hour as the vehicle crept farther along the dark roadway. The directions to this 'safe place' had been entered into her phone back in New York. She prayed she hadn't made a mistake. She'd prayed a lot during the last twenty hours. Actually, she'd been praying continuously over the past three years. It seemed an answer had appeared, and she'd grasped it, desperate to escape what was coming.

  The crunching of the gravel under her tires ground to a stop. The GPS muttered 'arrived at destination.' The volume had been turned down to a whisper so the mechanical voice didn't wake Ethan. In the array of her headlights stood a squat log cabin tucked into the side of the granite face. Two windows, a solid-looking door, and front porch peeked out amid a stand of pine trees. Images of every cowboy movie she'd ever seen while growing up flashed through her mind. Whole logs were literally fitted together, one on top of the other, to form the walls. The posts of the porch had once been trees. The columns were stripped of bark, but a few stout branches remained and jutted out several feet from a trunk. A lantern hung off one. On another dangled a sizable metal box—just as she'd been told.

  Leaving the car running, she opened the door and stepped out into the night. The crunch of rocks under her feet announced her arrival at the porch. She stepped up on the wooden stairs and stretched toward the box that hung high above her head. Using the app she'd been instructed to download, she held up her phone and keyed in the six-digit number she'd memorized and waited... and waited.

  A spasm of fear tightened her gut. That fear fought hard against the exhaustion that overwhelmed her, but neither of those emotions dimmed her desperation. A metallic click made her jump and drop her phone. Over her heart, her hand tightly clenched her t-shirt. Oh, shit. Her eyes flashed around the porch and then back to the car quietly running not ten feet away. She pulled in a breath of air, pushed it out, and pulled in a deeper breath, before she bent over and picked up her phone.

  Using the flashlight app to illuminate the metal box, she stepped up to the top step and lifted onto her toes to reach it. With her fingertips, she twisted the bottom portion of the container open. A set of keys dropped from the box. Of course, she jumped again.

  Bethanie tried to laugh at her own skittishness, but she was scared. Her life and that of her son depended upon her not messing this up. She bent down to pick up the key ring with at least ten different keys on it. She tread carefully and quietly on the wooden porch, shining her flashlight at the substantial metal door in front of her. Odd for a log cabin to have a metal door. Wasn't it?

  Her tired mind dismissed her thoughts as she fumbled to find the right key. It took three different keys before she located the one for the deadbolt. She stepped in and reached to the right, praying for a light switch. Her fingers patted around in the dark until they found a switch. She flicked it up and blinked at the blinding light. She'd missed seeing the spotlight on the front porch. Squinting up at the five billion-megawatt halogen light, she opened the door a bit farther and flipped the next switch in line. The interior of the cabin illuminated.

  Bethanie pushed the door open farther and drew an easier breath. Oh, well, all right then… not really expecting that. She glanced back at the car before she moved inside the cabin. The front room boasted an overstuffed couch and chair, plus a recliner, in front of a flat screen television. There were numerous machines under the screen, probably for DVDs and such. She glanced out the window and moved through a small but modern kitchen, a bathroom, and two bedrooms. She checked each window latch, closet, and room, before she made sure the deadbolt on the back door was locked. Satisfied the little house was empty and secured, she headed back to the vehicle she'd switched to in Allentown, New York where, as instructed, she’d left the new Ford Harvey had allowed her to use in the parking lot of a movie theater.

  “Ethan, honey… time to wake up.”

  “What?” Her son sat up. His blond hair stood straight up on one side, and his face was creased with sleep. “Are we there?” He yawned and blinked owlishly out the windshield.

  “We are. It's really nice inside. Help me carry our stuff in, and we can explore for a little bit before we go to sleep.”

  Ethan had been a trooper; he'd tried to stay awake and keep her company as she drove. The young man was always trying to protect her. He was eleven going on forty. She turned off the car. He grabbed his backpack with all his valuables, and she wheeled-slash-dragged in two of the suitcases that held their clothes.

  “Cool.” Ethan stopped in the middle of the doorway.

  Bethanie pulled one suitcase up the porch stairs before retracing her steps to fetch the other. “It's nice inside. Why don't you go see which bedroom you want?”

  She'd returned to the porch with the second load of suitcases when Ethan came outside.

  “I put your suitcases in your room, Mom.”

  She bounced the first suitcase up the stairs. “Thank you. Which room is that?”

  “The big one.” He headed toward the car.

  “Okay, thank you. There’s just the groceries left. Wait for me, and we can carry the cooler together.”

  “I can bring in the plastic bags.” His voice cracked a little as he called back. He was turning twelve in a month.

  Bethanie pulled the cases behind her and headed into the house. She wheeled the tote that held their bathroom supplies into the bathroom and made quick work of putting the supplies away in the nearly empty cabinets. She did note, however, there was new toothpaste, toothbrushes, shampoo, and soap under the counter. She carefully moved the unopened products aside and put their items where Ethan could reach them.

  “Mom, I got all the bags in.” Ethan leaned against the door frame as he watched her collapse the tote.

  “Thank you. Let's go get the cold food and unpack it.”

  “Can we eat? I'm hungry.”

  “You're always hungry.”

  “I know, all my awesomeness takes fuel. “

  “You are awesome,” She smiled. “Fuel it is.”

  “I'm almost taller than you already.” He stood toe-to-toe with her and smiled.

  “I'm still your momma, young man.” Ethan laughed at her when she spun him and swatted his butt. He was a good kid, and she was happy about that. He was right, at eleven he looked her in the eyes, and she was five feet two inches tall. His father was a big man, well over six feet and heavy with muscle. Ethan took after his father, and he would no doubt tower over her soon.

  They went out of the little cabin together, and she pulled the cooler out of the trunk. It didn't hold much. Staples, milk, eggs, mayo, butter. She didn't buy or pack the food, but whoever had was brilliant.

  They worked together to carry the cooler into the house. Ethan grunted right alongside her as they worked together to get the ice chest into the small kitchen.

  “Peanut butter sandwich?” she asked as she started shifting the cold foods into the refrigerator after turning the temperature down just a bit.

  “Yum. That will work.”

  “There are paper plates and plastic knives, forks, and spoons in one of those bags.”

  “I saw them.” Ethan worked to pull out the bag of utensils and find the peanut butter while she put away the rest of the cold items and started on the dry goods.

  “Do you need help?” She glanced over at the table where Ethan had set up his workstation.

  “No, I found everything. Do you want one?” He lifted the knife out of the jar, a huge blob of peanut butter hung precariously from the plastic.

  She motioned toward the knife. “No, thank you. Careful, it's drooping.”

  “Oh, crap.”

  “Language.”

  “It was crap, Mom. It isn't a bad word, not like shit or...”

  She lift
ed her eyebrows and blinked at him. “It is still not nice to say.”

  “All the kids say it.”

  “Are we like all the kids?”

  “No, ma'am.” He sighed the response as he carefully spread the mound of peanut butter on a piece of white bread.

  She turned her back on him so he wouldn't see her smile. They had this discussion at least once a day. When she was little, she could remember her parents chastising her and her sister for the same thing. Heavens, she was tired. She never thought about her family unless she was exhausted. She turned and leaned against the counter watching her son. He was so handsome. She once again prayed his father's physical attributes were the only thing Ethan inherited from the evil son of a bitch.

  She smiled at him when he stuffed a huge bite of bread into his mouth and pulled a plastic cup from the sleeve she'd put on the counter. “Milk?” Bethanie walked over to the fridge.

  “Soda?” The muffled request was barely understandable through the mouth full of peanut butter.

  “Milk?”

  “Milk.” That sigh again.

  This time she did chuckle.

  “How long are we staying here?” He licked the side of his hand where a glob of peanut butter had fallen as he was eating his sandwich.

  “I don't know. Until I can figure out a few things.” Because how else do you explain to an eleven-year-old boy that his recently deceased father's criminal associates were hunting for you? The papers had described Harvey Simmons’ death as an accident, but she didn’t believe it. She wasn’t even sure he was actually dead. How did she explain to Ethan that the bastard who controlled their life when he was alive was now ruining it in death? You didn't. You told him it was adult things. After pouring the milk and setting it beside him, she sighed and rubbed her tired, gritty eyes.

  Ethan took another big bite of sandwich.

  She pulled out a chair at the small table and sat down to watch him finish his food.

  “What am I going to do about school?”

  “Well, we are going to take a vacation for a while, and then maybe I'll be your teacher for a little bit.” She had no idea how to homeschool him, but she could figure it out. But not until she got the all clear. Until then... well, they'd make those decisions day-by-day.

  “You?”

  “Yes, me. I'm pretty smart, you know.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her and took another bite of his sandwich. When he did that it scared her. That calculating and assessing look was all his father. She'd lived through over a decade of the man's unfeeling scrutiny.

  Ethan finally cocked his head and nodded. “You're very smart. James' mom said so.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, a little smirk on his face. “Even if all that plant stuff you like is weird.”

  “She did, huh?” James' mother was a sweet woman, but she didn’t understand Bethanie’s love of herbs, botanicals and growing things. Bethanie had watched James on occasion so Patty and Darrin, James' parents, could go out on date nights. Harvey had never allowed Ethan to spend the night at other children's houses, and James’ father worked for Harvey. He was cut from the same cloth as his boss, and Bethanie was required to follow the mandates set down by Ethan’s father.

  “Can James come to visit us here?” He grabbed the plastic cup and took a long drink of milk. The mustache it left received a cursory swipe of his tongue, which missed just about everything.

  “Probably not. We don't know how long we're staying, and it is a long way away from New York.” And if James knew where they were, his father could find out. God only knew if Darrin would use that information for his own gain, but he could, and she wasn’t going to give him that opportunity. She handed Ethan a napkin and pointed to his milk mustache.

  He sighed at her before he raked the napkin across his face. “What time is it?”

  She tapped her phone and sighed. “Three in the morning.” She'd been awake for twenty-three and a half hours. Before that, she'd gotten only a couple hours of sleep. Events had transpired quickly. Her yawn, no doubt triggered by the mental math she'd just done, spread across the table like magic, and Ethan's jaw cranked open, too.

  “Okay. Teeth and then bed.”

  “Can we explore tomorrow?”

  “Yes, but only if we go together. You can't go anywhere by yourself until we both know the surrounding area. Okay?”

  “Yeah, okay.” The words were slurred with another yawn.

  She put the peanut butter and bread away, rinsed the plastic ware, and threw away the paper plate while he brushed his teeth and used the bathroom.

  She waited for him to get into bed and left the bathroom light on after checking on him one last time. Leaving the light on was as much for her benefit as his. If she thought she could get away with it, she'd curl up in his bed with him. Protect him. But he was too big for that, at least according to him. Damn, she didn’t want him to grow up so fast, but life had a way of forcing the issue. She untied her shoes and toed them off.

  The mattress under her was soft, and the blankets were warm as she pulled them up over her clothes to her chin. In the utter silence of the little cabin, she could hear her son's small snores. He slept the sleep of the innocent. If only she could keep him that way.

  If it was up to her, she'd fight to the death to keep Ethan away from his father. According to the newspapers, that problem was over. Harvey J. Simmons was reportedly dead. The papers said he'd been killed in an explosion. Bethanie would believe it when she spit on his damn corpse. She'd waited, expecting him to show up, to call, to let her know in all his insidious ways that he still controlled her. But weeks had passed, and he hadn't contacted her. She’d almost let herself believe he was dead; that they were safe.

  But her life, which had been surrounded by deadly threats for almost as long as she could remember, couldn't be that simple. Her son's father had enemies.

  At least according to those women, he did. The women from Guardian Security had paid her a surprise visit. She replayed the shock at finding them in her apartment after she’d dropped Ethan off at school. The terror, then disbelief, then a horrid realization and disgust at Harvey’s outreach of vileness. If she believed them, and she had no reason not to based on the documentation they’d shown her, Harvey had powerful adversaries in the criminal world who now claimed what Harvey had built. Ethan was a threat to those claims. She had no idea what they thought an eleven-year-old boy could do to them, but the women who approached her were insistent she and her son were in grave danger. She curled her arms under her head and stared up at the ceiling.

  The two women who'd reached out to her, who'd built this plan to get them out of New York and away from this unseen menacing harm, were convincing. If the uncensored information they'd provided proved anything, it showed her they were connected and had documents that no one should be able to access. They had proof of that bastard's crimes. The first woman, Jewell King, provided document after document listing the atrocities Ethan's father had committed and showed her the trail of money and the devastation his actions had caused.

  Bethanie didn't doubt the veracity of the information she'd seen. For three months she’d been a victim of Harvey's undivided attention while he used her body to gain an heir. At sixteen, she'd have rather cut her wrists than lie with that bastard, but she’d had no choice. None. Harvey and the people before him had taken everything from her. She was alone in the world. Until Ethan. In an act of unbelievable generosity, Harvey had provided her an apartment and an allowance and instructed her to raise her son. Harvey would claim him after he'd matured. His visits had gone from once a year, to every six months, and over the last year, Harvey visited monthly. She lived with the daily fear that the next visit would be the last time she saw Ethan.

  She sighed and rolled to face the door, still listening to her son sleeping in the other room. She was so tired. Tired of being afraid. Tired of waiting for Harvey to show up and demand Ethan, his heir. She didn't remember a time when she hadn't had to look ov
er her shoulder, to be afraid. When was the last time she felt safe? Before Harvey. Many, many years before Harvey.

  Chapter 3

  Lycos watched the dog in front of him. He was some sort of weird mix of red wolf and possibly Mastiff, though the attempt at re-introducing red wolves to the Smoky Mountains was considered a failure. Dog's ears twitched as he listened to whoever was in the cabin. Lycos moved to see beyond a clump of overgrowth which kept him out of direct view of the safe house. If anyone looked out the windows, they wouldn't see him. He'd stared out each one of those windows and had memorized the terrain, learned the obscured fields of view, and knew how to minimize each of the cabin's liabilities.

  This morning his ass was planted on the ground outside his old safe house because he'd received an alarm indicating someone activated the lockbox. Naturally, he assumed it was one of the other Shadows who knew about this location. Only four people besides him had that code. Thanatos, Moriah, Smoke, and Tempest. Thanatos was in Africa, Smoke was on some damn assignment with Homeland, of all things, and Tempest? Well, no one had seen Tempest in over two years. The assumption was that the man was dead.