Chapter Seven
O’Connor
Ihad seconds to analyze the situation, the problem, and decide if involving myself further in my neighbor’s business was worth jeopardizing my op.
I decided that it wasn’t.
Yet, here I am, driving into Noddingbell towards the people that I am targeting with a car seat hooked up in my back seat.
And, with Linden Scott in my passenger seat… Shaking like a leaf. I don’t know if I am making her nervous, or if it’s the situation, but I can feel her anxiety through my seat.
“The restaurant is right up here.” She starts taking off her seatbelt before I have the truck stopped and is flying out of the passenger door.
I don’t know why I follow her, but I’m two steps behind her before my brain catches up.
She’s behaving so erratically it’s stirring up my protective instincts. Not the kind I use in my line of work, but the kind of instincts that I’ve long tamped away.
Turmoil rolls in my gut.
“Hi, I was here earlier. I’m here to pick up my daughter from the Scott party. They were seated towards the back.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. They left about twenty minutes ago.”
Linden’s face pales, and anger licks at my spine.
“What? They took my daughter?”
“I don’t know… I think there was a little girl with them. I didn’t ask questions.”
“Did they or didn’t they?” I ask a lot more firmly, making the host stiffen.
“Uh, yes. I believe so.”
“Let’s go.” She grips the sleeve of my t-shirt, and I let her pull me out of the restaurant.
It’s been a long time since anyone has man-handled me in any way.
“Where did you go? You were supposed to call me!” Her head dips as she talks to whoever it is on the phone. “I know, I was late. I had car troubles. She is supposed to be in a car seat.”
Linden’s silence grows. “You have a car seat? When did you plan to run that by me?… I don’t care. I’m her mother.”
She blows a deep breath out and squeezes her eyes shut. “Let me talk to her. Now!”
I’m impressed with the display of backbone from a woman I’ve viewed as gentle up until now. Her rage is practically radiating off of her.
“Hi, baby.” Her fire turns to sunshine instantaneously. “Yeah, Mommy’s car wouldn’t start, but I’ll be there in ten minutes to get you… Make sure you have your shoes on… Okay, I love you, too.”
Shit. Somehow this mission has turned into me driving straight onto the Scott property, fully exposed. No concealment.
I’m inviting a blown cover and failed op.
“I need to go get her from her grandparents’ house. I’m so sorry, Jack. I can call a car service if you want. You’ve already done enough.” She presses her eyes as if to prevent tears from falling.
“You’re not putting your daughter in some stranger’s car.” I start my engine, ignoring the fact that I am a stranger to them, too.
She sits silently in the passenger seat, other than to guide me to the mansion that I already know very well. I keep my hat tucked low on my head as we head through the security gates, but it doesn’t matter. They’ll run my truck and get my identity that way.
The identity that I want them to have.
“You should stay in the truck. I don’t think they’ll be happy that I’m with a man they’ve never met.”
Perfect, no reason for me to expose myself further. Except, I find myself scoffing. “None of their business.”
She looks torn as she slides out of her seat. “I wish it weren’t. But they’ve made sure that all of my business is their business, and as you can tell…” She motions to the giant house. “They have a lot more resources than I do.”
She runs into the house without knocking, and in less than thirty seconds is carrying her daughter out on her hip.
Two figures appear in the doorway, and I know it’s Edmund and Merrill Scott. I keep my head down, avoiding their obvious stares, and let Linden get Avery settled in the back.
Just before Linden gets in the front seat, they call to her. Her eyes are filled with such heavy sadness as she glances at me; I almost tell her to ignore them.
But it’s not my place.
“I’m sorry. I’ll be right back.”
I can’t take my eyes off of her as she approaches the people that are worse than she probably even imagines.
Their finely tailored clothing looks morbid compared to Linden’s cut-off jean shorts and yellow cropped t-shirt. Like good and evil staring back and forth at each other.
“Hi, Mr. Jack.”
“Hi, Avery.” I look at her through my rearview mirror.
“Why you here?”
“Your mom needed a ride.”
“I wike your truck.”
“Thank you, kid.”
“Is Mommy sad?”
“Yeah, kid. I think she is.”
Linden gets in her seat and slams the door shut behind her. “Take us home, please,” she states with nearly no emotion.
I know that means there are a shit-ton of emotions boiling beneath the surface.
* * *
My screen glows in the dark room. The windows have been blacked out in here. No chance that anyone would get a glimpse inside.
Half a wall of computers and telecommunications equipment, and another wall filled with weapons and gear.
I pull up Edmund and Merrill’s profiles, reading over their bios that I’ve already memorized.
Edmund Scott is an anesthesiologist at the most elite hospital in the state, and his wife, Merrill Scott, is the highest-paid surgeon in the state.
On paper, they seem like a wealthy power couple, but underneath it all is something more sinister.
Their names appear on the dark web countless times, always associated with the illegal and unethical harvesting of organs and their popularity on the black market.
Malpractice doesn’t begin to cover their scheme.
A medical dream team, except for their disregard for human life.
The hospital can’t touch them. The state officials won’t touch them, and the federal government wants nothing to do with it.
That’s where I come in.
Hired by an underground contractor to fix the problems that our government is too corrupt to dig into.
I was first approached two years ago after my honorable discharge from the United States Navy.
I was a part of an elite SEAL team for eight years before a failed psych eval.
I didn’t fail because I answered anything wrong. I answered every question perfectly, as if no part of me had been affected by my years of close combat and in war zones.
They saw that as a threat. I wasn’t fit for duty because I was too void of emotions.
I fought my discharge for months, but in the end it didn’t matter. I was done, and I couldn’t go back.
The SEALs were all I had.
Two weeks later, I received an anonymous message about a job requiring an operator without an affliction to killing and willing to work outside the confines of the law.
I fit the bill. No family. No ties. Nothing to lose.
“The funds and the ops plan will be sent.” The voice is muffled, disguised.
I doubt the truth behind all of this, but within minutes my phone dings with a notice from my bank.
Half a million dollars routed to my checking account.
Next, another message comes through on my phone.
“Welcome to Project Obsidian.”
A car door closing outside draws my attention to my security monitors. I have camera angles on my entire property. And the neighbors.
The fucking landlord.