Page 31 of Cyclone (The Golden Team #6)
Jude
T he next morning, I pulled into the tiny strip mall parking lot and cut the engine, heart hammering in my chest.
Across the lot, nestled between a tanning salon and a pizza place, was the store I was supposed to watch — a sporting goods place called “Canyon Outfitters.”
According to the text Owen sent me five minutes ago, my target—an employee named Austin Price—had just clocked in.
Now it was my turn.
First surveillance assignment.
No pressure.
I slouched down in the seat of my truck, pretending to scroll my phone like I wasn’t a complete amateur about to blow my cover.
The plan was simple: watch Austin, see if he slipped any merchandise into his backpack at the end of his shift, and follow him home if needed.
Simple.
Right?
Right.
Thirty minutes in, my phone buzzed again.
Another text from Owen.
I just drove by. You need to relax. You look like you’re on a stakeout for the FBI. Smile or something.
I rolled my eyes and tried to adjust, pretending I was just some bored girlfriend waiting for her boyfriend to get off work.
When the front door swung open, I sat up straighter.
Austin.
Tall, wiry, baseball cap pulled low, backpack slung over one shoulder.
He wasn’t headed home.
He was headed toward the back alley behind the shops.
Crap.
I fumbled for my phone, trying to open the camera app with sweaty fingers.
The damn thing froze, the screen stuck between apps.
“Seriously?” I muttered, tapping it frantically.
Meanwhile, Austin disappeared around the corner.
Heart pounding, I grabbed my keys and slipped out of the truck, moving fast but casual, like I wasn’t totally tailing a suspected thief through a sketchy alley.
I rounded the corner just in time to see him handing a brand-new pair of hiking boots — still with the tags on — to a scruffy guy leaning against the dumpster.
The guy handed Austin some cash. Stupid kid.
They fist-bumped.
Transaction done.
I lifted my phone and finally snapped a few quick pictures.
Proof.
Clear as day.
Before they could spot me, I backed up, turned the corner, and practically sprinted back to my truck.
I slid behind the wheel, grinning at the same time, shaking my head. I hoped this wasn’t the kind of work I would always get.
I pulled up Owen’s number and shot him a text:
Got your proof. Clear hand-off in the alley behind Canyon Outfitters. Sending pics now.
I attached the photos and hit send, my heart pounding, still excited that I caught him on the first day. Now, I was ready for the next job.
Owen’s reply came fast:
Welcome to the team. Come by the office later.
I laughed out loud, the sound bubbling up like champagne. It didn’t take much to make me happy.
God, it felt good to be doing something that had nothing to do with running through a jungle.
To not just survive, but succeed at something.
As I pulled out of the lot, my phone buzzed again.
Cyclone this time.
Good morning, beautiful.
My heart melted right there in my chest.
I pulled over and texted back:
Miss you too.
I chuckled.
For once, the future didn’t feel scary.
It felt wide open.
And for the first time, I couldn’t wait to see what came next.