Page 15 of Nave (Henchmen MC: Next Generation #14)

Nave

“It’s… complicated,” Junior said, dropping down in his office chair.

“What’s complicated?” I asked, trying to nudge his dog a bit so I could sit down beside her.

“Well, if this guy is as good as you say he is, there’s not likely any way for me to monitor him without him knowing about it.”

“I thought you were some computer genius.” He’d been tinkering the whole time we’d been growing up, but it seemed like he took things to a whole new level while I’d been away.

“Sure,” he agreed, leaning back. “But there’s always someone better. Sounds like this Ben guy is better. How the fuck did you even come across him?”

“I was working with what I can only call the redneck mafia. They were trying to pull off a string of armored truck robberies. Had a couple of inside guys, even. But there was just one problem.”

“Security cameras.”

“Yep. So they found this guy. Fuck if I know how. I was just tasked with going to make sure the jobs were done.”

“You were with him more than once?”

“Four times over a few weeks. Months, I guess. The heists were spread out so it was harder for law enforcement to stop them.”

“And you went there after?”

“During. My boss wanted us to watch the footage disappear before the cops could even see it.”

“They didn’t trust the guy?”

“They didn’t trust anyone. That’s why two of us had to go to that glass house in the middle of nowhere. Plus, paying what they were paying, they wanted to make sure the job was done.”

“What was his office like?”

“Lot of screens. Several computers. An entire wall full of external drives.”

And another full wall of pictures of Lolly, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.

They’d shown the progression of his obsession with her.

From a dewy-faced temp at his tech office to a woman clearly starting to catch feelings.

But from there, it went darker. She seemed less confident, more confused.

Then, there were the images of when he got her alone in his glass prison. All the fucking light left her eyes.

“You don’t have a last name for him?”

“I can ask Lolly. But his name was Ben, and he ran some sort of tech business. Maybe he still does. I don’t know. I just know he became, mostly, a recluse once he built the glass house.”

“I’m sure he still does. Good way to appear legit to the IRS and shit like that. Though if he’s as good as you say he is, he probably doesn’t need help laundering his money.”

“Is it really possible for him to follow her via CCTV and shit like she thinks?”

“I think if anyone knows what he’s capable of, it’s her.

She lived with him for years. Saw what he could do.

And, yeah, I guess. If I were obsessed enough, I could probably do it.

All you need is one sighting. Then you just…

hop. And when you run out of CCTV, getting into people’s doorbell cameras and indoor cameras is alarmingly easy if you know what you’re doing. ”

“That’s horrifying.”

“Why do you think the club has never put cameras inside, except for short spurts when there were known and active threats? It’s not worth the wrong person getting their hands on your private conversations. Or, worse yet, church meetings.”

“Never thought of that before.”

“And the cameras everyone does have are not those name-brand ones that connect to any sort of cloud. Most of them have old-school wired systems that connect to DVR or closed networks. I’ve floated the idea of creating an app for them so they can check when they’re not home, but they’re even paranoid about that. Which is fair.”

“And if Ben is even more tuned into the risks of security systems, chances are that his cameras are just as closed off.”

“Right.”

“And his laptop or computer would be unhackable.”

“Exactly.”

“Damn. Alright. It was worth asking.”

“I’ll look into the guy. See what I can find. Suss out what his skills really are. Just so we know exactly who we are dealing with here. But, until then, I agree with Lolly; she should stay as hidden from cameras as possible.”

“What if I had her change her hair or something?”

“Come on, man. This isn’t the nineties. Most CCTV footage has facial recognition software. She’s better off with sunglasses and a hat when she is leaving the homestead or the clubhouse.”

She’d been insisting on just that since she came to Navesink Bank.

We’d left the homestead twice in the past two weeks.

Once, to hit a big box store to load up on more clothes, stuff for Edith, and pantry supplies, since the girls kept her pretty full on fresh stuff.

The second time was to take Edith to visit my cousin Andi to get a full work-over on Edith—going by an alias and listed as one of Kit’s dogs.

“Yeah, sounds like a plan. Alright. Well, let me know if you do find anything, yeah? And be careful.”

“Will do. Off to go see her?”

“Yeah. Just gotta pop over to pick up her fake ID first.”

Then we had our next outing planned.

A trip up to Hailstorm.

It was time for her to finally get some prenatal care.

It’d been a bit of a process trying to explain the concept of Hailstorm to someone who wasn’t from the area and hadn’t glimpsed the long, winding structure, the solar panels, the dogs, gardens, and obstacle courses.

But she was about to see for herself.

When I got to the homestead, Lolly was already waiting near the driveway, wringing her hands and breathing a little too fast and shallow.

“It’s just a doctor’s visit,” I reminded her as she climbed into the SUV. “An hour and we’re out of there.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, exhaling hard. “I’m just worried about… all the stress.”

“I think you got out of there before the stress could actually affect growth or anything.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “That was the plan. Thanks for taking me.”

“Of course. Maybe after your appointment, I can show you around a bit. It’s a pretty neat place.”

“That’d be nice. Kit and Ariah talk about going there all the time when they were kids. Something about martial arts.”

“Yeah, the aunts and uncles demanded the kids all learn how to defend themselves. Especially the girls.”

“Maybe I can learn someday.”

“You can. And you can just go to a place in town now if you want. Aunt Lo and Aunt Janie opened a self-defense gym ages ago. For all ages.”

“Maybe this one will go one day,” she said, patting her still-flat stomach.

“I did.”

“Did you?”

“Yep. It was a non-negotiable growing up. Mostly because we kids grew up in and around the club, and our parents wanted to know we could defend ourselves if we ever needed to.”

“Did you ever need to?”

“Not as a kid, no. Our parents kept us pretty protected.”

“I hope I can say the same.”

“You can. You will. You’ve done everything you could to make sure you and your baby are safe.”

“But can we ever really be safe?” she mused, uncharacteristically down. “I mean, I can never be out in public without a disguise. My kid… could he or she even go to school?”

“Well, luckily, New Jersey has pretty lenient homeschooling laws. If that is the path you want to take. There are options, babe. This will help with that,” I told her, handing over her new driver’s license.

“Laura Smith.”

“Your new name. Obscure enough that it shouldn’t put any kind of alarms up anywhere if you do need to show it for any reason. It’s not a full identity. Yet. We will cross that bridge if or when we need to. I’m still hoping you get to have your real identity back eventually.”

“Do you really think that’s possible?”

“Yes.”

One way or another, I was going to get that life for her. Even if it meant driving my ass all the way down to that glass house and setting the fucking place on fire with Ben inside.

Hell, I’d even enjoy that shit.

“You sound so sure.”

“I am. You’re going to have your life back, free to live it how you want to live it.”

“I think I want to live it here,” she said, watching as we drove out of the main area of Navesink Bank and toward the hill where Hailstorm was situated.

There was no rational reason for the relief I felt at her words. Other than, I guess, that I wanted her to stay.

What can I say?

I’d been worried about her for years.

On top of that, I’d seen her every single day for two weeks.

Granted, some of the visits were on the short side since she was enjoying spending time with the animals, helping weed the garden, and learning how to bake bread and sew.

She was busy. And I didn’t want to get in the way of her newfound hobbies.

But, yeah, I liked having her around.

I liked her gentle familiarity, the way she would nudge me or hip-check me. How, when she was upset or worried, she leaned into me; she happily walked into my arms.

It was nice to have a new friend.

Just a friend.

No matter what ideas popped up in my head in those quiet moments before sleep. Or in the morning when I woke up hard and aching. Or in the shower when I couldn’t seem to stop myself from reaching down and dealing with the problem… with thoughts of her in my mind the whole time.

“Oh, wow. You weren’t exaggerating,” she said as we pulled up to the security checkpoint.

“Nope. If anything, I was underselling it. We’re going to leave the car here. They can be squirrelly about cars.”

“Look at the chickens!” she cooed as we climbed out. “Oh, there’s a bunch of bantams.”

“What are bantams?”

She stepped closer to me, her body nearly against mine as she reached out past me to gesture.

“Those ones. With the fancy feathers on their feet? Those are bantams. They don’t all have feathered feet, though.

Just a lot of them. They’re my favorite.

Next to the Polish ones,” she pointed those out as well.

“And I have one mutt that is my all-time favorite.”

“A mutt?”

“Yeah. The girls have several purebred breeds, but they also have a few who went ahead and mingled, then produced babies.”

“Why is the mutt your favorite?”