Locked Down: A Secret Society, Enemies to Lovers, Romantic Thriller

Prologue

He grabbed the solder and the soldering iron and melted a small drop on the back of the clock mechanism. He replaced his tools and placed the piece of red wire in the drop of molten metal, holding it there a little longer than strictly necessary. He needed to make sure this didn’t go sideways.

Straightening on the stool, he arched his back. Getting old ain’t for sissies. Too many hours spent hunched over a table was taking a toll. At least he had the right equipment. The magnifier was a godsend. His vision had deteriorated in the last few years. Ah well, such is life. This was his last job. Then, retirement. He knew exactly where he wanted to go and what he wanted to do. He smiled as he imagined his future life.

Refocusing on the table in front of him, he frowned. This was an idiotic way to build a bomb. Beyond stupid…it was outright dangerous. Who the hell had come up with this design? No one with any kind of real knowledge, he could be sure. He gritted his teeth. This was not the way he liked to do business. No wonder they’d been willing to pay so much. He was no longer sure the money was worth it.

Glancing over at the plans again, he ran his finger over the paper and made sure he’d followed every step. It wasn’t an exact replica because if he’d made it exactly as the plans had specified, he’d have blown himself up. The stupid shit who’d built the last bomb like this had just been super fuckin’ lucky he hadn’t been blown to smithereens.

Instead, he followed the plan as closely as he could without killing himself. The FBI should believe it was made by the same whack job who had blown up the building in Portland. Eco-terrorist or Doomsday Prepper or whatever the hell he was.

He looked at the bomb through the magnifier one more time. Using the clock as a timer was just fuckin’ ridiculous but it wasn’t his call. Frankly, it didn’t matter. His job was to build it and then hand it off and that was it. He took one last look and then closed the cover. All done. The last thing he had to do was deliver the finished product, and he’d officially retire. He let out a long breath. Worry had tied a knot in the pit of his stomach. Something was off about this whole job. He could feel it. And that surety had somehow moved the retirement threshold a long way off.