Finding Kyle(7)

My phone starts vibrating in my back pocket, so I shove the spade into the ground to free my hands. I don’t even bother glancing at the caller ID because there’s only one person who has my number, and he’ll be calling me from a burner phone anyway.

My handler… Joe Kizner.

“What’s up?” I ask as I connect the call.

“Just checking in,” he says cordially. “Case has been set for trial to start on September ninth.”

That’s a little over three months away. Hopefully then, I get my life back.

“What’s the scoop on Latner?” I ask as my eyes drift past the back of my cottage to the Atlantic Ocean that’s as smooth as glass today.

“He’s looking for you,” Joe says softly.

This is no surprise. Senator Lyle Latner of the great state of Colorado had been impeached from office once he was arrested and charged with a list of crimes that involved conspiracy, collusion, money laundering, and a whole host of other charges that would ensure he went to jail for the rest of his life. If he’s convicted, he’s going down and never coming back up again.

Since I’m a key element to his conviction, I expected he’d put his list of criminal contacts in use to try to find me so he could eliminate me, which would solve most of his problems. While I was not directly privy to his dealings with Mayhem’s Mission, I am the main witness who will bring the club down. Once they go down, the senator is going down as well, particularly because of the wiretaps.

“You good?” Joe asks, and I know what he’s really asking. My thoughts go to the cache of weapons I’ve got hidden around my cottage, as well as to the security system I’d installed. I was as ready as I’d ever be if someone came after me.

Of course, they’d have to find me first. I wasn’t sure how that could happen. Again, only Joe and two others in the ATF know where I am hidden, the two others being bosses above Joe’s pay grade.

“I’m locked and loaded,” I assure him, because I do know he worries. My refusal to go into WITSEC meant I was protecting myself with no other agents to watch my back. “You think the trial will start as planned?”

Joe huffs out a breath. “You know how it goes. Everyone’s saying they’re ready to go, but continuances happen all the time.”

I can do another three months, but the thought of much longer here is not setting well. “Then you relay to the prosecutor not to agree to any continuances.”

“You know that’s not how it works, brother,” Joe chastises.

My frustration boils over, which doesn’t take much nowadays, and I growl back at him. “I’ll give it a few more months here, Joe, but then I’m coming out of hiding. I want my fucking life back. I want Andrea to know I’m alive.”

“Take it easy,” Joe says in his attempt at a soothing voice. “There’s a process, and we have to go through it.”

“I gave over three years of my life to our government,” I say in a low voice bristling with anger. “I want it back, and I want it ASAP. Don’t let them continue it.”

“It’s out of my hands and you damn well know it,” Joe retorts back, losing patience as well since I’m being a dick. “Besides… you’re in a good place, Kyle. Think of this as a much-needed vacation. It’s beautiful there, right? How about trying to enjoy it?”

Yeah, it’s fucking beautiful all right. Beautiful ocean, beautiful spring weather, and a goddamn beautiful neighbor who never misses an opportunity to give me a cheery wave and a breathtaking smile if we happen to be outside at the same time. I never smile or wave back as that would encourage her, and I don’t need any complications in my life.

I certainly don’t need any more of her muffins, which were awful and had to be tossed. I should have kept them as weapons, but I figured they’d attract ants.

“I’ll check back with you in a few weeks,” Joe says, jarring me out of my thoughts. “Sooner if anything else happens.”

“Yeah, man. Talk to you later.”

After I pocket my phone, I head back around to the front of my house. My truck is in the gravel driveway, loaded with flats of flowers that I need. When I turn the corner, I stop dead in my tracks. Crossing the dirt road that separates our properties is my neighbor, and she’s walking straight toward my cottage.

My motherfucking gorgeous neighbor, who, as she gets closer and closer, is even more beautiful than I was able to discern from a distance. She’s got golden-yellow hair that hangs in loose curls past her shoulders. While she’s dressed sort of primly in a flowered dress of pinks and yellows along with a white cardigan, it’s offset by the fact she’s wearing a pair of beaten-up gray Chucks without any laces.

I get all of that in a cursory glance, because I’m trained to absorb details quickly, and then I turn my back on her as I go to my truck. Maybe she’ll get the hint and veer off her current path.

Determined to ignore her, I stalk to my truck and grab the first flat of flowers. My shoulders lock tight when I hear her say right behind me, “Hey.”

I grit my teeth for a brief moment before unclenching them to mutter a return, “Hey” without even looking at her.

When I turn toward the back of my house, I hear a scraping sound behind me and immediately look over my shoulder to see her grabbing a second tray of flowers from my truck.