Burned: Black Cipher Files #3 (Black Cipher Files series) (9 page)

He’d been tasked with keeping an eye on her. However he wasn’t supposed to make contact with Sunshine. He’d been sure Carson Black, his mentor, had really just found a lame reason to get him out of the way and keep him out of trouble. Zeke had been given Sunshine’s current name and address. He hadn’t had the time, or the interest, to delve deeper than that. Truly his attitude had been one step up from self-pity, and he’d been operating from a position of fear.

He didn’t want to lose his job or his freedom.

He realized while following Sunshine to San Luis that position of fear had been replaced by another more productive emotion.

Determination.

He was done wallowing and worrying. It was time to take action.

But surprise. “No information found,” the computer chirped after he’d listed Sunshine and Stella’s information on a super secure, triple-encrypted government database.

Okay. That had to be damn near impossible with a last name like Smith. There should be some partial matches, something within the county. He’d found men. Singles, Pairs. Husbands and wives and kids. Husband and husband. Wife and wife. But there were no mother/daughter pairs in the census or tax records.

They owned and operated a business in Cambria. There ought to be some way to tag them. And the fact that he couldn’t was mystifying.

Sunshine Smith was a complex and intriguing woman. She seemed guileless but lied like a pro. She visited the ocean in the middle of the night even though she was terrified of the water. So it stood to reason that she had even more secrets. But he still hadn’t seen that search result coming. Nothing.

Unless Smith wasn’t their last name.

Zeke entered some more information into the system. And found out that neither Sunshine nor her mother existed before 1999. New identities. And nothing had come up when he’d put Sunshine’s birthday, tomorrow, in the system. But it wouldn’t if tomorrow was her true identity’s birthday.

He dug further. Came up empty.

His Grandpop had been a paranoid bastard. Their information had been in the system but they’d moved a lot, paid cash for everything, and he worked off the grid. Grandpop had always maintained that he wasn’t about to make it easy for anyone to find him.

A wave of sorrow rushed over Zeke. All those years Grandpop had thought he’d been hard to track and yet the assassin had still managed to find him and execute him once the order was given.

But that made Zeke realize that Sunshine and her mother had clearly gone to severe lengths to be almost impossible to trace.

Patterns.

Bayes theorem would suggest that their hidden configurations were just that, hidden. And that the observed signal they generated was an obfuscation of their true identities. The translation wasn’t difficult. They didn’t want to be found.

But nothing would make sense until he figured out
why
.

In the meantime, he had other avenues to pursue.

Finding people was like a pyramid. Start at the apex with the few known facts that he had and work down to the base. Each layer of their information he drilled down into would reveal another facet, until there was a solid foundation of information, and a recognizable pattern. Then he’d have ways to track them.

Since the personal information had mostly been a bust, the next layer down was their business.

There had to be records regarding Scents of the Sea.

What he found was the business was owned by a corporation whose officers were listed as Stella Smith, CEO, and Sunshine Smith, COO, but the address on file was a suite in Delaware. He’d bet money that the “suite” was actually just a PO Box in an anonymous box rental, strip mall storefront. And he’d bet that any mail likely went through forwarding to a box here in California. Basically they had an elaborate system in place that meant they were virtually untraceable.

He searched cable records, bank records, utility records, and came up empty-handed.

Zeke tucked his cell between his ear and shoulder while he finessed the computer searching for tax records on the business, and checked the answering service again.

Finally, there was a message. His heart stopped at Sunshine’s voice. The slight tremble was only detectable because he was specifically listening for it. But he could hear the false bravado and worry beneath her simple succinct message.

“I’m at our favorite bistro.”

Immediately, he yelped restaurants in San Luis and found there were several small French places that might fit. Shit. Which one could it be?

The restaurants were clustered near the Cal Poly campus, but one stood out. It was down the street from the Physics building.

Zeke had to take a chance. He pulled up the location information on Google maps and requested directions to be sent to his phone as he listened to the message again.

“I’ll stay here for forty-five minutes and then I’m moving again. Hope you’re okay. Check in.”

No direct names, moving in intervals, this was a well-planned and well-executed escape and evade effort. But why? What threat could they both be worried about?

Zeke noted the time stamp on his computer. He had twenty minutes to get across town, hope he’d chosen the right location, and then convince her to let him help her.

Assuming she would talk to him. Assuming she wouldn’t freak when she saw him.

At the last minute, he grabbed his Billabong baseball cap and jammed it over his unruly hair.

He hadn’t had time to do more than glance at the records of the shop business, Scents of the Sea. The business vehicle on record was a peppy bright yellow Volkswagen Bug which totally fit her hippy-dippy image. But based on the vibes he was getting from his cursory search of Sunshine and her mother, he’d bet that they had another vehicle stashed somewhere that was not listed in their name.

Zeke kept his thoughts open and his gaze sharp as he edged toward speeding to get to
Le Bistrôt Légume
and intercept Sunshine.

He gripped the leather steering wheel, tension knotted his shoulders, his stomach churned, and acid burned in his chest with unexpected force. Zeke rubbed the blade of his hand over his breastbone, and wondered how someone he’d known less than twenty-four hours could become so important.

He had an unreasonable need to see her, touch her, reassure himself she was fine.

She’d left the message not more than ten minutes ago. But he couldn’t settle, couldn’t relax until he verified she wasn’t in immediate danger and he saw for himself that she was safe.

He pulled into the triangle-shaped parking lot at the corner of the strip mall that housed the little French bistro. His gaze darted around the minuscule lot, and tried to find a space while also looking for Sunshine’s car. No VW bug was in the lot.

But in the corner, car backed in ready for a quick getaway, was an ancient blue Volvo. And with a certainty that was illogical, he knew that was her car. Zeke blocked the Volvo in, parking so it would be impossible for her to get out.

Relief swelled through him. Sweat sheened on his face, his pulse ticked in his throat, as he contemplated his next move. Did he attempt to confront her in the restaurant or wait until she tried to leave in her car?

His basic problem was if she realized he had gotten her location from the answering service his method of tracking her was compromised.

He didn’t think he had any choice but to approach her inside the restaurant and hope she wouldn’t make a scene.

Zeke got out of his Range Rover and headed for the strip mall and the bistro. He strode toward the entrance, his steps purposeful and his gaze trained on the single door.

An awning with fat green and brown stripes shaded a display window stenciled with green letters in a curlicue font on the glass. A delicate depiction of a cornucopia, with a variety of vegetables tumbling from the horn, also in flowing green lines decorated the center of the large window and gave the entire restaurant a French feel. Iron tables and chairs hovered under the awning like cows under a shady tree.

Zeke noted other details. A rack of display cones exploded with bunches of gerbera daisies, roses, gladiolus, and alstroemeria in front of the flower shop to the right. On the left, a used bookstore had a display table with markdowns and textbooks for purchase. A ‘We Buy Books Back’ sign with a large dollar symbol was propped on the table.

Inside the tiny restaurant, there was a relatively long line at the counter and all the tables were occupied. Zeke took a deep breath and prepared to explain himself. He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say. Women weren’t his strong suit. In fact, except for a few casual rock climbing and surfing buddies, people weren’t his strong suit. Someone with more experience could likely charm Sunshine. But Zeke wasn’t the smoothest of talkers. In his head, he was still that dorky geek boy who had trouble talking to girls.

Zeke pushed open the glass door. Right now, he had to let his insecurities go and aim for achieving his goal. Get Sunshine Smith to listen to him. After all, he knew she and her mother were afraid, but really, how bad could the threat to them be?

Thirteen

I slumped at the tiny wrought iron table, back to the wall and a clear view of the entrance. Although even if I saw the monster come in the restaurant, where could I go? The tables were crammed into the small vegetarian bistro with barely an inch between the backs of the chairs.

Suddenly I was re-thinking this location. I’d panicked and come to the first place that popped into my mind after I’d unloaded my old cell in a dumpster behind the Chevron gas station on the way out of town. Then I’d immediately programmed my Go Bag burner cell so I’d have a method of emergency communication. As soon as I arrived here, I left a message for Mama.

I’d followed the procedures that we set in place years ago. If we were separated, we used the answering service to communicate. Except when we put that system in place, there’d been no discussion of separating on purpose. So I was unsettled and jumpy.

I stretched out one leg in case I needed to bolt, and the other rested on the ball of my foot. My knee jittered up and down and my teeth clacked together although it was so loud in the minuscule eatery that no one could hear them except me.

The rat-a-tat clicked in time to the bounce of my knee. Conversation trembled and roared in the enclosed space as I surveyed the patrons in line and kept a tight watch on the door.

I didn’t think Mama was going to show up with Blue. I’d made the call, just in case, left my position, in code of course, and how long I’d be here. I was a little bit jealous that Blue was taking care of Mama right now. That was
my
job.

Mama had gotten us away from that farm in Kansas. It was my job now to protect her.

There was no way,
no way
, my stepfather could trace me here.

Even if Blue let Mama get captured—very doubtful—she wouldn’t give me up. Would she? My position should be secure.

But in my mind, the threat of him loomed like a menacing shadow. Taking me back to when I was seven years old, he was aiming that rifle at me, and then we were running for our lives.

A chill skittered over my spine.

My gaze darted around the restaurant, and I checked out the people waiting to order. A mother with twins in one of those giant double strollers that took up half the space for the line. An Asian woman, who looked about as tense as I felt, stood rigid and straight while her gaze systematically scoured the restaurant. She was too old to be a student. But in yoga pants and a matching zippered jacket in simple gray and black, she was dressed too casually to be a professor.

Two male art students, portfolios slung on their backs, hair asymmetrically cut and unnaturally black, appeared as if they’d stepped straight out of their anime portfolios. A mother/daughter duo, who looked to be about the same age as Mama and me, gestured animatedly at the deli display case, clearly discussing their lunch choices. The mother laughed at something the daughter said, and the family resemblance was instantaneous, which made me suddenly wistful at their easy and carefree appearance.

I’m sure Mama and I had those moments, but I was never more aware of the fact that our relationship was haunted by fear. And now that Blue was on the scene, we’d never have the lighthearted affection that bathed those women in a happy glow. Likely, our relationship had changed forever.

The bell over the door jangled, and I cut my gaze sharply to the left. A beach bum guy in ragged board shorts, t-shirt worn thin that outlined impressive muscles, his head covered with a Billabong cap, shoved into the store.

He wasn’t Mama and he was too young to be
him
.

Initially I dismissed the guy, and glanced at the time on my phone again. But something about him drew my gaze and when I looked back I knew why.

Underneath the bill of the cap, Zeke Thorn’s ocean blue eyes stared at me.

I shoved up, my back scraping against the wall, my pulse pounding in my throat. I tried to swallow but I could barely breathe.

What were the odds that he would happen to be in this restaurant at this particular time? I had a better statistical chance of getting hit by lightning.

He wound through the tightly grouped tables, making his way straight toward me. I clutched my across-the-body tote bag with stitched peace signs and patchwork squares in my hand and straightened.

Somehow, some way he had tracked me here. Followed me? Although I sure hadn’t noticed anyone following.

I had to get out. Get gone.

My breath solidified like sludge in my lungs, slowly cutting off my oxygen and leaving me gasping for air.

Zeke put out a placating hand as if to touch me. I had to get away. From him. Out of here. Great Goddess, had my system with Mama been compromised?

Could Zeke be working with
him
?

Maybe nothing about our last few interactions had been happenstance. Maybe he really was stalking me, maybe he was here to get me, so the monster could get Mama.

Fear shuddered through my body, working through each organ starting at my head and rippling to my toes in a wave.