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Okay, so I’m taking this to mean they’re taking down the big baddies who are doing big bad things before anyone tracks me down. It’s a reassuring thought. Bad guys in jail is what we all want. If I had a hand in that, I still have no regrets.
“Okay. What am I supposed to do?” I ask, sobered enough to stop joking with German.
“You’ve got family on Oakley Island, right?”
Weird how I was just thinking about Gran, and now German’s bringing up the island. I didn’t know he even knew—but then, I guess it’s his job to know things.
Both of my sisters relocated to Oakley after Gran passed. At first, it was just to fulfill parts of the will, which required one or more of us to live there while renovating Gran’s house.
The fact that both Eloise and Merrittstayedhas everything to do with Jake and Hunter, the island locals they inexplicably fell in love with, thenmarried.
I’m still wrapping my brain around those particular events.
I understand sweet little Eloise falling for a small-town guy—especially a steady and objectively hot man like Jake—but Merritt getting back together with her first teenage love? I didnotsee that one coming. At least not until I saw her and Hunterin the same room. Those two are ridiculously in love. Who knew my stony-hearted sister is actually a big softie? I mean, she has a pet raccoon and a small pack of dogs.And she likes it.
The thought of seeing my sisters sends a sudden burst of longing right through my heart, but … I can’treallygo to Oakley, can I?
“If I’m in danger, I’m not going within ten states of the people I love,” I say.
I’ll hop in my car and head west, in the opposite direction from Oakley. I’ve always wanted to see California. Though … I’d probably be better offflyingwest. Since my house is within walking distance of a MARTA station and so many restaurants and shops, I’ve been eking out the last bit of life from the ancient Honda I’ve had since high school without worrying about replacing it. It’s definitely on its last leg. Or last wheels? The AC doesn’t even work, which makes it not the best choice for road trips.
“You’re not in immediate danger,” German says, and I want to believe him. Because theotherreality isn’t one I want to consider. “This is more of a formality.”
“You just said they know who I am,” I fire back. “You’re bringing a team all the way to Georgia to babysit me as a formality?”
German hesitates, then clears his throat, like he recognizes the contradiction in what he’s telling me. “Look. This isn’t a spy movie. You did screw up, and your actions did put you at risk. But it’s unlikely that anyone will actually track you down.”
“Then why have me leave home at all? Atlanta is a big city. I can just lay low here, stay off the internet for a while.”
“Because on the off chance they do track you down, they’ll probably be looking for your hard drive,” German responds. “If someone breaks into your apartment to trash your equipment, we’d rather you not be there. We’re just taking every precaution,Sadie. Get out of Atlanta. Go see your sisters and stay offline. This will blow over in a couple of weeks.”
The tension building in my chest eases the slightest bit. “Fine. But for the record, if this were a spy movie, my character would be played by early 2000s Sandra Bullock.”
As for who would play the heavily sighing agent on the phone, I’d cast a Hemsworth to play his part. Probably pre-Miley-Cyrus Liam over Chris. I’ve never seen the man, but his voice is deep and rumbly. In short, it’s never a hardship to hear him talk. Even if he is about as fun as a log stuck in knee-deep mud.
Have I wondered a time or two about what it would be like to meet German in person? Speculated over whether he’s the exact combination of sexy-tough-grumpy that’s my personal catnip? Most definitely. And I’m imagining it again right now.
Clearly, the man himself is only imagining business.
“We’re also trying to avoid any situation that could lead to legal problems for us,” he says. “And we don’t want any of this information to go public.”
“Ahhh. So, this is really about you covering your butt. Are you worried I might sue the government? Or … wait, is it more about not wanting people to know you hired someone like me in the first place?”
German won’t answer my questions, but I don’t need him to. I mostly keep things above board when I’m online. I don’t steal. I don’t cheat. But Icould.And the people who hire me know that better than anyone.
At any rate, I’m much happier with the idea of going into hiding because the government doesn’t want bad press or legal troubles than I am because bad guys want to take a baseball bat to my computer desk. Or worse—tome.
As predicted, German acts like I haven't said a word. “Leave the phone we issued you in your current location as well as any electronics that could trace back to you.”
“Can I take my personal laptop?”
“Sadie,” he says sternly. “No computers. Leave everything behind.”
“Geez, fine. You don’t have to make me feel like an idiot for asking,” I mutter.
The beat or two of silence sounds very much like German wordlessly assuring me that I am, in fact, idiot enough to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong and get caught doing it.
And fine—maybe this time he’s right.
