First Strike by Harley Tate

Author:Harley Tate [Tate, Harley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harley Tate

Chapter Six

GRANT

Mountain Oasis Hotel

Charlotte, North Carolina

Friday, 2:00 p.m. EST

* * *

The right rear wheel of Grant’s suitcase squeaked as it rolled over the tile floor. He shook the handle, but all it did was amplify the noise. The last three hours had rushed by in a frenetic blur. First, he’d stalked the halls of the hotel searching for Baker or the girl who got away.

When he didn’t find them, he rushed off to his room and packed his things. In between, he called his wife. Again and again and again. She never answered and it was driving him insane.

Being former military, he knew the lengths the government would go to stop an attack. Between the cybersecurity arms of the Army and the Navy to the CIA and the FBI and the office of Homeland Security, thousands of people were trained to sniff out threats before they manifested.

But that didn’t mean the threat wasn’t real. He ran a hand over his hair as he pulled up to the end of a four-person line at the checkout desk. Screw staying for the rest of the Hack-A-Thon. There had to be two or three flights out of Charlotte to Atlanta that afternoon and Grant would be on one.

He stared at the people in line ahead of him. A woman with a teal mohawk and piercings up and down her ear. A man with a chemical equation on his T-shirt and a Star Wars hoodie. Tournament attendees. Grant frowned. Had the kid from the back row gotten the word out? Were they leaving because of the threat?

Grant shifted his weight back and forth as he pulled out his phone and tried Leah again. Straight to voicemail. He shot off another text.

Call me. You need to leave the city. Head to Dawn’s place. I’ll meet you there. Love you.

He slipped his phone into his pocket when a pair of skinny-leg jeans caught his eye. Baker. The kid with the intel. Grant wheeled out of line, hustling to follow the kid out the front door.

A grey Honda Accord sat at the curb with the windows rolled down. Baker called out. “You my ride?”

The driver must have said yes since Baker loped up to the door. Damn it. The kid couldn’t leave.

Grant grabbed his suitcase by the handle and ran for the car. He reached out and threw the rear door open just as the driver began to pull away from the curb. The car stopped with a jerk.

“Hey!” the driver shouted from the front. “What are you doing?”

Grant slid into the rear seat. “Hitching a ride.”

“I’ve already got a fare.”

Grant smiled at Baker sitting next to him in the rear seat. The kid’s eyes turned to saucers and he scrabbled for the door handle.

“Don’t even think about it.” Grant tugged his suitcase in and slammed the door. “You’re not leaving until I get some answers.”

“I don’t have any. Just leave me alone!”

The driver spoke up again. “Do I need to call the cops?”

Grant shrugged. “Do it. I’m sure Baker would love to talk to the police.

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