Brain(33)

Before he became Brain, Thurston Alexander had been accepted at all the top colleges, but he decided to take a year off and travel Europe, live a little. Something happened during his trip, and when he started college the following fall, he took ethics, rhetoric, and philosophy classes at Harvard, instead of the law classes his parents intended. It seems there was a big fight, they closed the purse strings, and he used the money he had in his account to buy a Harley and a cabin in the north Georgia mountains. He’d known how to hack since he was in junior high, and he perfected it and became Wulff.

I grew up with money, and thought I was better off now, outside of the life of vapid consumerism. I still have plenty of money, but it goes towards living my life as an adventure, which for the past five years has basically meant trying to stay alive.

It figured, though, the first guy who’d interested me in a long time had been my kidnapper and captor, and could never be anything more.

He’d left some messages online for me, in places he figured I’d find — apologizing for the way I was treated and asking me to let him make it right. I hadn’t responded.

At first, I’d been set on revenge — fucking them over, causing them pain, but I’d quickly decided I didn’t want them as my enemies, and had sent the email to Duke. I’d fucked them over with the Disciples, I’d been paid well, they had a reason to be pissed, and now the Disciples wanted a piece of me, but as far as I was concerned they could get in line behind the Russians and Homeland Security. Brain was the only person who’d managed to get close, and now that I knew how he thought, even he couldn’t find me.

So now, I was ready to take on a new identity, move to an as yet undetermined city, and buy a restaurant under another of my identities. I’d hire my new identity on as manager, and within a few months begin the process of converting it to a nightclub. Eventually, it would become a male strip club, with my new identity running the place. With her credit history, I’d never pull off owning it. Not in the next ten years, anyway. My original dream had been to buy a horse farm one day, but Harmony Johnson had only ever been a waitress, and I didn’t need to do anything to alert the authorities her identity had been taken over by someone else.





Chapter Nineteen





Brain



Harmony Alexis Johnson. It fit her. Or, it fit who she was becoming. Who I thought she wanted to become.

I watched her from a distance, her hair longer, brushing her shoulders. She wore a casual sundress with Teva sport sandals, and was completely aware of the people around her, no matter how nonchalant she appeared.

I could get into her hotel room, if I wanted, but if I was too heavy handed she’d run again. I needed to play this smart, let her come to me.

I’d hacked into the auction house’s servers months ago, and watched for correspondence I thought might be from her. As a result, I now had the alias she was currently using, as well as the email address she’d used, which let me find her other email addresses and identities.

I hacked into her hotel’s database, found which room she was in, and then got myself a room in a downtown Atlanta high rise across the street, hoping I’d be able to watch her.

Yes, I’d gone so far past stalking, I was aware it was a problem. I didn’t care.

She was on her laptop when I got into my room, and I considered the best way to approach her. Finally, I sent an email.



I don’t mean you any harm, and I’m no longer with the Chattanooga RTMC chapter. I found the house where you were being held, and arrived to rescue you about twenty minutes after you rescued yourself.

Has enough time passed for us to meet and have a meal as friends?

I know you well enough to be certain you’ve probably learned everything about me by now, and you understand how much we have in common, besides our intelligence.

When I walked away from my family, Duke brought me into the fold and became my best friend when I was alone in the world.

However, he broke our trust, our friendship, when he took you away from me, and now I find myself alone again. I have my brothers in the Atlanta RTMC, sure, but… please, can we talk?

I’ll be in Centennial Park by the Olympic fountains at noon tomorrow, and I’ll take you to whatever restaurant you want, either within walking distance, or on the back of my bike, if you’ll trust me enough.

If you’d like to choose another spot, let me know and I’ll be there.



I watched her open the email and read it, saw her body language go from fear, to anger, to interest, and finally to resignation.

She paced the hotel suite five minutes before responding, “You can’t be serious.”