perfumed scent grew stronger as we approached the gate, and just inside, there was a burst of color in reds, peaches, and yellows blooming along the wall—wild and beautiful. Rosebushes, all full of flowers—well, except for that one bush nearest the street—it looked a little picked over compared to the rest.
At five steps out, I realized the gate was electronic. Grady probably had a remote button he could push from inside the house. Troublesome, because I didn’t want to give him the opportunity to turn us away before we’d even had a chance to meet.
As I stepped forward, I opened my mind to the networks buzzing all around us. I was intentionally seeking out a thread of communication with the system I knew must be lurking out there, the one that controlled the gate. I found the gleaming silvery strand right away.
Signal detected: Override lock?
Yes.
The briefest of pauses, followed by a tiny burst of power. And then—
Override commencing … 3, 2, 1 …
Under my
“Wow, guess someone knew we were coming, huh?” Hunter said.
I watched the gate slide across the track with a small smile, that same thrill of power tingling beneath my skin. Yes, someone did know. Me.
The thrill dimmed when I noted the camera again, watching us from up in the tree like a giant eye. I tilted my head away. When we passed directly under it, I lifted my left hand and pretended to scratch my forehead, using it as a shield. Twenty more steps, then fifteen.
Motion detected.
Human threat detected.
My legs tensed under me and my head whipped toward the door. The elaborate wooden structure swung inward with a heavy groan, making Hunter stop short and me jump back, curbing the urge to shift into a defensive stance.
Target: Visualized.
Engage?
What? No! I ignored the glowing red query as a middle-aged man whirled into the doorway like a ninja, sun glinting off an object in his right hand.
Gun? My human mind formed the thought, at the same time my android brain responded:
No weapons detected.
With a warrior-like yell and the slip-smack of slippers hitting concrete, the man leaped onto the porch. “Caught you!” And despite the android reassurance, I reared back, my hand shooting out to block Hunter from harm. A split second later, I realized two things: the object in his hand was a water gun, and there was no way he would pass for my biological father. Besides being short and scrawny-thin, and having a receding hairline and a few days’ worth of stubble, this Richard Grady was black.
As I digested all of this and felt Hunter grab my hand in sympathy, water streamed from the gun and splashed Hunter in the face.
“H-Hey!” Hunter sputtered, flinging up his hands and ducking.
The man’s nose wrinkled. “Now, wait a second. You’re not that little fiend from down the street!”
He had a thick drawl—Southern—and the sound sent ice prickling across my skin. The effect might be soothing and inviting for some people, but I didn’t trust the friendly cadence.
Holland had taught me that.
Grady’s gaze shifted from Hunter to me. His gun hand jerked. But if that was a reaction to my appearance, he recovered quickly. No trace of recognition showed on his craggy face. Almost like he was trying to look unfazed.
Hunter swiped water from his eyes while drops dribbled down his chin. To his credit, he managed a smile—albeit a slightly damp one. “Uh, no.”
The man’s eyes slid from Hunter to me. “Did the fiend send you? To sneak up and pick more of my flowers? Damned kid, climbing my fence all the time, nabbing my prize roses, all for that hair-flipping girlfriend of his.” He hoisted the water pistol again and took aim.
I held my hands palms-out in front of my face, in case he got trigger-happy again. “No, I promise! We’re not, uh, flower thieves.”
Hunter snorted and made a noise deep in his throat, one that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. I shot him an evil look, but in reality, I was groping for a way to make this work, since direct questions were out. It wasn’t like Hunter was ever going to buy that this guy was my biological father.
I stared at his unfamiliar face, at the water gun he held aloft. His antics weren’t doing anything to keep my wariness at bay. If anything, his unpredictable behavior made him a wild card. I didn’t trust it, or him.
“We’re not even from around here,” Hunter added.
“That so? You just happen to stumble across my house? Well, I don’t need any solicitors, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“No, we’re not selling anything,” Hunter said hastily. “We tracked you down on purpose.”
I winced, and watched as Grady zeroed in on that notion. Such a tiny bit of information, but still, more than I wanted this man to know. Yet. I’d hoped to feel him out a little more first.
He crossed his arms and scowled, all pretenses of playfulness falling away. “And why the hell would you do that?”
I focused on his face to catch even the most minute change in expression. “I was trying to track down a … relative of mine.”
Grady gave an incredulous snort. “What, you need glasses or something? Because if this here is some kind of joke, it sure ain’t funny.”
Hunter shook his head and shot me an encouraging look, raising a brow as if to say, tell him, already. I sighed. “No, no joke. My mom told me to look for a man with the last name of Grady, so that’s why we’re here.”
Silence. His left eyelid twitched, almost imperceptibly, but for five long seconds, he scratched his chin. “What’d you say your mom’s name was?”
I hadn’t, and I had a feeling he knew that as well as I did. I hesitated a beat, then said, “Daily.” No way could I use Laurent in front of Hunter. Anyway, if this were the right Grady, he would know Mom’s pseudonym.
Right?
I watched Grady watch me, my stomach fluttering with a growing collection of worries. Worries that he did know my mom and therefore, knew what I was. Worries that he didn’t know either of us. Worries that he’d somehow seen the wanted sketch of me floating around the internet and was, at this precise moment, plotting to turn us in.
When Hunter finally started scuffing his foot on the walkway, Grady grunted, but didn’t deign to respond. “Don’t know her,” he finally said.
“Sorry we bothered you. We’ll be on our way,” I said.
“Wait.” As he scratched his salt-and-pepper
