Hyper Lynx (The Lynx Series Book 6) by Fiona Quinn (ebook reader for pc and android TXT) 📗

It just seems like our happily ever after keeps getting snatched away from us.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

This is Saturday

The next day, on the way to pick up Destiny from her shift at the diner, I drove a circuit.

It was a lifetime ago that I had been in this part of town. And every time I drove down the road, memories came up strong.

This morning, I pulled over in front of Hanasal’s house. This was the elite neighborhood for the uber-wealthy and not at all like the neighborhood just a few miles away where people led a life paycheck to paycheck.

A young mother came out of Hanasal’s house. She had two youngish kids with her dressed for soccer practice. Fobbing her way into a Subaru, she strapped the kids into their car seats.

As she drove by, she sent me a concerned look. It seemed to me, she was noting my license plate.

Cars like the one I was driving didn’t belong in this area. I wondered if she would call the police and ask them to check why I was parked there, staring at her house.

Still, I wanted to take this time to remember back to what had happened. It felt like there was something there. Something more.

Hanasal was dead. But that didn’t seem to have ended things. There was obviously a loose end that needed to be tied up. Why else would my parents be—yeah, I didn’t have the right word for this—haunting me?

Seven years.

It felt like panning for gold as I reached out my sieve, trying to discover the nugget that would solve the mystery:

After Dad’s death, Hanasal’s house wasn’t hard to find. Dad’s friend, Stan, didn’t mind giving me the address and the license plate number on the guy’s new car from the police database.

It hadn’t taken long for the diplomat to replace the car he’d totaled and move on. Hanasal didn’t get a scratch on him in the accident. I only got fifty stitches scattered around my body, and Dad got dead.

I hated Hanasal.

I hated that he had whistled as he climbed into his car as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

Spyder had given me the directive not to act for a full day. I wouldn’t disrespect Spyder by lifting my Springfield and popping a hole in Hanasal’s head, though, man, it would have been so darned easy.

I’d waited.

Determined to figure out the best time and place for my retribution, I wasn’t going to add to Mom’s woes by having her see me in handcuffs. Besides, I was better trained than that. Spyder took his mentorship very seriously. As did I. I meant to be the best of the best someday and protect my country.

Spyder didn’t hand out vague information. He spoke very little, and the things he said all had meaning. “It is a politicized world. That island has the potential to be of great importance to the United States, logistically.” What I heard him say was, don’t rock the boat by doing something overt.

I loved my country.

I wouldn’t want to do something that would cause our soldiers harm down the road.

So I had to be cunning.

Sitting outside of Hanasal’s house, I had chewed on the bone Spyder had given me: “That which is yours will not pass you by.” On the surface, it had to do with destiny and karma. Quickly, I could say it was Dad’s time to go, and karma would bite Hanasal for me—if not in this lifetime, then in the next. But Spyder never gave me a phrase that could be deciphered that easily. There was more meat on that bone, but my head wasn’t willing to be still enough for deep thoughts.

Instead, I had decided to do two things. One: gather intelligence on this guy so I could make my plans. Two: make sure he wasn’t driving drunk and destroying another family. I was being proactive, and that always felt better to me than treading water in a cesspool, waiting. But Hanasal had better freaking stop that whistling. In the moment, I only had but so much control over my emotions. And he was pushing my finger a little closer to the trigger with Every. Single. Note.

The woman was back, knocking on my driver’s side window. She must have circled the block.

I tapped the button and lowered the glass a few inches.

“Are you lost?” she asked. She didn’t actually sound like she wanted to be helpful, just wanted me to move along.

“Do you live here?” I pointed at the house.

The woman scowled.

“I thought Mr. Hanasal lived in this house, but then I saw you come out, and you’re not his wife.” If she knew that name, then she’d think I was there legitimately and not call the cops on me.

“Oh, dear.” Her face slipped into a frown. “Are you his friend?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen Mr. Hanasal.” Friend? Even to get me out of this situation, no, I would never call him a friend.

“Yes, sweetie. Mr. Hanasal died in a car accident. We bought the house from his estate. That was seven years ago.”

“That long…” My eye caught on the dash clock. “Okay,” I said, starting my engine again. “Thanks.”

“Are you all right? You look so sad.”

“Well…” Sad? No. Overwhelmed by having to relive all this? Absolutely. “It’s okay. Thanks. Thanks for checking in with me.” I added with a finger wave, so I seemed legit. Of course, I knew Hanasal was dead. I’d watched it happen.

She stepped back, and I drove off to collect Destiny.

Was it a coincidence that she chose that name when her case brought me to this particular part of the city? Or was this a message from the universe?

Chapter Twenty-Six

It was walking distance, Destiny had said.

Well, it was walking