Chapter 20
Twenty
Naomi sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the phone. She looks up, concentration melting into disappointment. "There's nothing here."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure," she sighs, rubbing her eyes. "I've been staring at financial records for years. I know what to look for, and it's not here."
When I came back, the urge to hug and kiss her again was strong.
It felt good to see her. Safe. But instead, I used every shred of discipline I’ve developed, launched into what I had found, and gave her the evidence to review.
She had been scrolling through the photos and had spent the last ten minutes on the manifest. I watched her lips move absentmindedly as she studied the images, mouthing words to herself as she processed the information.
I knew what those lips tasted like. Soft.
Warm. Perfect. And God help me, I wanted another taste.
I force myself to concentrate and answer her. "Well, we have the pictures," I offer. "The cages, the tunnels. That's evidence."
Naomi shakes her head. "It's not enough.
We need evidence of organizational control.
These could just be random bad guys. We need the bureaucracy behind it.
We need the paper trail connecting this to official channels.
" She taps the screen. "But there's nothing in the manifest. It's just normal cargo listings. "
"Maybe it's coded."
"No. Trust me, Walker, it's not there." Her shoulders slump slightly.
"I do trust you."
Naomi looks up, something soft and grateful in her expression.
"It's too bad we can't send this to Static. He might be able to help.”
"Yeah, but you can only send a few letters at a time because he's piggybacking..." Naomi’s face suddenly goes slack with what looks like a dawning realization.
"What is it?" I ask, straightening up from the wall.
"Maybe nothing," she mutters, tearing through her purse with focused intensity.
"Sure don't seem like nothin'." I watch her hands move frantically through her bag, searching for something.
"Got it!" She pulls out a crumpled piece of paper—the receipt from the diner. Her eyes scan it eagerly, and I move closer to see what's captured her attention.
"You find it?" I ask, peering over her shoulder.
"I think so. Maybe." Her voice has that excited edge I've come to recognize—the sound of her piecing together a puzzle.
"Tell me."
"Look at this receipt." She hands it to me, our fingers brushing again. "Tell me if you see anything out of the ordinary."
I take the thin strip of paper and study it carefully. Eggs, toast, coffee. The prices. The total. The date and time. It all looks normal to me. "Honestly, I don't. Looks like any receipt."
"Right. Like any receipt you'd get from a remote gas station on carbon paper." She points at the bottom of the slip. "Except what is that bar code doing there?"
I look back down, noticing for the first time the series of thin black lines printed along the bottom edge. I shrug. "Receipts have bar codes."
"Big box department stores have bar codes. For returns. And rewards programs." Naomi's eyes are bright with excitement. "Do you think that diner has a rewards program?"
I shake my head, finally following where she's heading. "You think it's coded information?"
Naomi nods. “Remember Maude mentioning that we weren’t truckers when we first sat down?
‘I’m guessing you two didn’t long haul here,’ she'd said. I don’t think that was just an offhand comment.
I think that’s how they track everything without leaving an obvious paper trail.
" She takes the receipt back, holding it up to the light.
"I think they're doing a version of what Static is doing.
They're using the normal information on receipts to hide and piggyback route and destination information.
The trucks come through, drivers eat at the diner, and Maude gives them a receipt with everything they need to know encoded in the barcode. "
"So there’s no physical evidence of the destination on the truck," I say.
"Exactly. No physical footprint. Just a digital one that’s easily erased.”
I fold my arms and lean against the dresser. "Can you decode it?"
Naomi’s eyes narrow. “The credit card machine.” Her voice is a murmur, and I can almost see her building it in her mind as she speaks to herself.
“The credit card machine takes the trucker’s name, which tells them what cargo the driver has and where they need to go.
The signal is sent, and the machine generates the bar code.
” She looks up at me, everything clicking into place. “We need that machine.”
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "I don't know. What if the encryption is on the other end?"
Naomi shakes her head. "I don't think so. I think if they want to hide it, it has to be here."
"Ok. I'll go get it now," I say, already moving toward the door. "You stay here."
"Wait." Naomi's hand catches my arm. "You can't just go in there and take it."
"Watch me."
"Walker. Think about it. The information isn’t there now. They wouldn’t want it sitting there. I’m sure they wipe it every night. It’s collected and disseminated during the day. It’s a paperweight right now."
I clench my jaw, knowing she’s right but not liking where this is going. "Fine. What's your plan?"
"We need the machine, yes, but also the physical receipts they've printed today.
And we should get license plate numbers from at least a few of those trucks.
" She runs a hand through her hair, thinking rapidly.
"The machine is probably wiped clean at the end of each day, but with the physical evidence and the truck information, we can piece together enough to prove what's happening. "
"That's a lot of moving parts," I say, skepticism heavy in my voice.
"I know. That's why..." She takes a deep breath.
"That's why if we're going to do this without them knowing and without bloodshed, you'll need my help.” I look at her.
Not happening. She sees the doubt in my eyes and pushes past it.
“If we go in together, as a couple, we can divide and conquer.
I'll distract Maude while you get behind the counter.
We can get what we need and be out of there before anyone realizes what happened. "
I run my hand over my beard. "And if something goes wrong?"
"Then I'll have you." She says it simply, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Like she trusts me completely.
But the thought of Naomi anywhere near danger constricts my chest painfully.
"No." The word comes out harder than I intended. "Absolutely not."
"Walker—"
"I said no.” The small room suddenly feels like a cage. "I can handle this.”
"How?" she challenges. "You're going to walk in there and take out everyone in the diner? The truckers? Maude? The whole town? Because that's what it would take for you to get everything we need alone."
I look at her, really look at her. The determination in her eyes, the set of her jaw. This is the woman who was brave enough to hold me at gunpoint, knowing she could never pull the trigger.
But she’s so much more to me now.
“It’s too dangerous.”
She stalks toward me. “It is. It has been since I opened those files and didn’t leave well enough alone. But it’s my fight.”
“I told you, it’s mine now too.”
“Yeah, you said that. But why, Walker? If I’m just a person you're trying to help, why are you treating yourself like a human shield?”
“Because I have training you don’t—”
“Bullshit!”
“It’s not bullshit. You’re capable in the field, but it’s not the same—"
“Bullshit. That’s not why.” She puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head.
“Naomi, I don’t—”
“What am I to you?” Silence. I know what she’s asking, but I don’t answer. I can’t answer. I hang my head. Her voice drops, going from harsh to a raw, open whisper. “What did that kiss mean?”
My head jerks up. Her face is no longer hard.
It’s as open and honest as her voice. “Because you’re making me feel crazy by denying it.
I thought it was just on my end. But I know you felt it too.
” She places her hands on my chest. I grab them roughly but not painfully with my own like hers will burn me.
“I’m just trying to complete the mission,” I grit out. It’s so barely a sliver of the truth that it might as well be a lie.
She doesn’t push me away. She doesn’t grow angry again. She remains soft. “Then I’m going to steal that credit card reader on my own. With my own plan.”
“No,” I growl.
She moves her face closer to mine, but I don’t look away. “Why?” Her face is an open flame, intense and unyielding, demanding my answer.
I take a jagged breath. "Because I can't lose you." The words tear out of me before I can stop them.
“Why?” she presses. She wants the whole, painful truth, and my little hellcat won’t stop until she gets it.
"Because I want you." The admission feels like jumping off a cliff.
"I don’t deserve to, but I do." I put her hands back on my chest and step closer to her.
"Christ, Naomi, you're all I think about.
You make me feel things I thought were dead in me.
" Her lips part slightly, her breath catching.
"I've been a ghost for so long, I forgot what it was like to be a man.” I let go of her hands and place mine on her face. “Until you."
“I want you too, Walker,” she breathes. And that’s all it takes. Her admission and my name on her lips break and shred the last vestiges of the discipline that has defined me and my life.
I lean down and press my lips against hers.
This time, there's no pretense, no audience watching. Just us in our own little world.
Her lips are soft beneath mine but respond with a hunger that matches my own. I kiss her like a drowning man finding air, desperate and grateful all at once. Her hands grip my shoulders, then slide up to tangle in my hair.