Chapter Four
Jo
After a shower, I stared into my closet for the second time, as if sheer willpower might conjure a dinner outfit out of flannel and fleece.
When I’d fled Connecticut, I’d left all my personal items behind.
Unable to access my bank account or use anything that would allow someone to trace me, I’d relied on Silas’s generosity.
Clothing. Tools. Even a lab to continue my father’s work tucked behind a fake wall in one of the garages.
Not a bad setup for a fugitive engineer.
StealthOff. Dad’s brilliant, impossible dream.
The prototype could run on almost anything. Olive oil, jet fuel, whatever you fed it. It could be dropped from a plane, submerged, set on fire, and it kept going. He used to joke he was building the world’s first “unkillable motorcycle.”
It wasn’t the motorcycle that mattered, though, it was the engine and how adaptable it was to a wide variety of fuel sources.
The problem? Power storage. The unpredictability of the voltage being fed to them made all currently available battery types unstable.
We could create the power, we just couldn’t store it in anything small enough to be portable.
Every fix we’d tried either failed or required bulky cooling systems no soldier could carry.
I’d been chasing stability ever since. Experimenting with magnesium-ion and sodium-ion cells. Safer. Cheaper. One had to be the key. I just needed to keep the discharge from spiking.
That puzzle kept me up at night. If I could solve it, I could use the plans as leverage to clear Dad’s name. That was the crazy balance of life: if there was someone of influence trying to take you out, there existed a polar opposite to them. What was the saying? The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
I certainly hoped that was true.
My phone buzzed on the shelf next to a can of WD-40. It was Frank. I answered, the familiar rasp of his voice instantly grounding me.
“Hey, Jo. Checking in. How are things going?”
“Same old, same old. How are you doing? How’s your sister?”
“I’m feeling better, especially now that I convinced her to see a specialist,” he said. “She was ignoring symptoms, hoping they’d go away, and after she got out of the hospital, she wanted to go back to pretending something isn’t seriously off with her.”
“She’s lucky to have you.”
Frank laughed, a dry, warm sound. “That’s not how she’d describe me. I believe she used the term bully when I forced her to follow up with her doctor after her discharge.”
“I’m sure she’ll forgive you.”
His tone turned more serious. “Either way, after Silas, I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing.”
I swallowed hard. Silas had had stage four lung cancer. There wasn’t anything the doctors could do for him.
“I know,” Frank said, as if sensing my thought. “It just felt so sudden, and like we didn’t do enough.”
Only the urgency of my father’s situation kept me from feeling the same crippling guilt. “Silas made his wishes clear.”
“Yeah.”
I cleared my throat. “Your sibling’s condition isn’t the same. She’s going to be okay.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You’re right, I don’t, but I know you, and you’re going to make sure she gets the best care out there.” After a moment, I added, “I have a little money set aside, if you need it.”
“We’re okay, and you’ll need that money if Silas’s nephew decides to not keep the farm. And, speaking of him, I heard he might make an appearance.”
My gaze flicked involuntarily toward the window. “He’s here.”
“Where?”
“In the main house.”
“Shit. Sorry, I should have sent you a text when I heard he might show up.”
That would have been nice, but since that cow was already out of the barn. “It’s okay. He’s only here for the weekend.”
“And then?”
“I think he intends to sell it.”
Frank sighed. “If I had the money.”
“I know. Me too.”
“Does he know about your lab?” Frank didn’t know my real name, but he did know I had secrets and an area where I worked on things I didn’t want people to see.
“No, and I need to make sure it stays that way.”
“I’m not about to say anything.”
“Frank, I might need to leave on Monday. If I do, I’ll ask Gabe to watch the farm until you return.”
“Where will you go?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“My sister has a one-bedroom. I’m already on the couch, but she wouldn’t turn you away.”
I let out a sad chuckle. “So, I’d be sleeping on.”
“A sleeping bag on the floor. I’d offer you the couch, but you know I have a bad back.”
The best part of the offer, as well as his explanation, was that he was serious. “Take care of your sister, Frank.”
“Even if you’re a criminal, you’re a damn nice one, Jo,” he said.
I smiled and started to say, “I’m not.” Then stopped because I didn’t know what the world would label me if Raymean discovered I not only had StealthOff, but also my father’s nearly complete research. “Goodbye, Frank. Thank you for everything.”
A few minutes later I was still staring hopelessly at my closet.
Somewhere, in a parallel universe, maybe I was the kind of woman who’d glide into the main house in a cashmere sweater, hair shiny, lipstick perfect.
I even let myself imagine the look on Nate’s face if I did.
My hand drifted over my jeans, imagining how his gaze would admire me in a strapless gown.
No. Now I’m just being stupid.
The goal of dinner wasn’t seduction. It was distraction. Nate Keaton needed to leave Sunday thinking I was perfectly ordinary, definitely not worth a second visit.
If all went well, by Monday night there’d be nothing but an empty garage and a few dusty tools. The hidden lab would be gone, my trail wiped clean.
I pulled on jeans, a long-sleeved henley, and a scarf for the walk. My hair, as usual, had its own plans. Wild, untamed, and refusing to cooperate. I tied it back, checked my reflection again, and sighed.
Does it matter what he thinks?
Maybe? My own plan was beginning to confuse me. I wanted him interested but not too interested. Enough to trust me, but not enough to want to come back.
How I felt or didn’t feel was irrelevant.
I laughed softly at myself, the sound ghosting in the cold. The hardest lies were always the ones you were telling yourself.