Glad to be out of the CIA's political quagmire, he relished the freedom he had with the Saints. And their friendship … even if a few of their women continued to hint that he and Marc needed to settle down.
Thinking of Marc, he chuckled out loud. Mr. Outdoorsman probably has some woman off in a tent somewhere. Slightly in awe of his friend, the comparison of Marc with his childhood neighbor, Chris, struck him. Smart, tenacious, and loved to work with their hands.
Without his contacts in, he grabbed his glasses off the end table to stare at his computer. A ping indicated an incoming message. Looking down, he smiled.
You're up late.
His mystery cyber-friend. He knew the moniker sounded dumb, but he had no other way to describe them. Old, young, male, female-he had no idea. Months prior, investigating a complicated case, he had been contacted by someone with the ability to see what he was working on and had offered assistance. At first, furious that someone was hacking into what he considered to be an "unhackable" account, he realized the help they offered truly assisted them in solving the case. Since that time, they offered information on several occasions.
Never identifying themselves for security reasons, nonetheless, Luke considered them a friend … albeit an anonymous, I'll-probably-never-meet-them-in-real-life kind of friend! And he knew they were talented, if for no other reason than the untraceable account they messaged from.
Can't sleep. You? he typed.
After a pause, the reply came back. I never sleep much. Too many things go through my mind.
Same here, he answered.
Luke had no idea what the mystery friend worked on, but hoped it was legal. Mafia, drug cartels, and terrorists all recruited heavily from the computer geniuses graduating, targeting the ones with few friends, few social contacts, and who worked from home. These young computer analysts or engineers were often easy pickings for the unscrupulous underworld. How is it possible that in only a couple of months of nothing but emails and messages, this person has become important to me? After a long pause in which Luke began to think they were not going to send any more messages, another one came in.
I might need you soon.
Staring at the screen, his heart thumped audibly. His fingers hovered over the keys, unable to think of how to respond. In all the times his mystery friend contacted him, they never indicated needing anything.
Decision made, his fingers flew over the keyboard. Anytime. Anything.
Danger is all around. The ones I trusted may not be real. You may be the only real one I know.
Luke, drawn in, did not hesitate to respond. You can trust me. I'm real.
A long pause on the other end caused him to hold his breath. Come on … answer.
I know you are. I'll let you know if I need you.
Again-anytime, anything.
Thank you. Really … thank you.
With that, Luke knew the conversation was over. He did not bother to attempt to find where the location was of the mystery friend. It's not necessary … they'll let me know if they want me. Finishing his milk, Luke rinsed the glass, putting it in the dishwasher. Wondering if sleep was any closer, he flipped off the light and headed back to the bedroom.
As he lay in bed, his mind bounced between the beauty in the bar and his mystery friend as sleep finally claimed him. Dreams of the two of them melding together filled the night.
*
Charlie stood up from the table and rinsed out her teacup. She left the clean cup in the sink to dry and moved to the bench seat on the side. With a quick flip, she slid it down creating a small bed once the back cushion was lowered as well. Grabbing the neatly folded sheets and blankets, she made the bed. Sliding under the light covers, she lay listening to the outside noises of the campground. It had been so easy to obtain her living transportation. Buying the camper van from an older couple no longer traveling, they were thrilled to get rid of it, and paying cash made them even more ecstatic. Now, she was not stuck trying to find temporary housing or staying in motels as she tried to hide.
A sigh escaped her lips as she thought about her nomadic life of the past six months. How did I get into such a mess? Eli … what the hell were you doing? As much as she hated to drag someone else into her situation, she knew she had approached the inevitable time … I can't do this alone anymore. Finally closing her eyes, she drifted off to sleep. Dreams of the dark haired rescuer intermingled with the constant nightmares.
*
The ten Saints sat around the conference table in the compound under Jack's large, luxury log house. The empty plates, previously filled with peach pie from Jack's wife, Bethany, were pushed to the side.