JOSS: A Standalone Romance (Gray Wolf Security) Read Online Free

painted a brilliant white. I almost wanted to shade my eyes from the brilliance of it all. And the walkway, the five or six steps up to the front door, was made of marble. It probably cost more than I earned in a year just to pay for one of those steps.
    The father climbed out of the car and had his daughter in his arms before I could even set a foot on the driveway. I followed some distance behind them as they chatted about school and work and half a dozen things before they even reached the front door. I found myself wondering how long it took David’s team to put in the cameras in this house. The cameras were specially designed by David to virtually disappear against almost any surface. I knew where they were, so I could usually point them out when necessary, but even I found it difficult to see them in this house. The ceilings were impossibly high and the décor was incredibly bright and clean and too perfect for a home that housed a small child.
    The father led the way to the kitchen where he proceeded to get the child a snack. I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and texted David, letting him know we’d arrived.
    Everything set, he texted back.
    That was good to know.
    I wandered over to one corner of the kitchen where there was a small, closed circuit television that showed a view of the front gate and the street. I caught the father’s eye and gestured to it.
    “I had a camera put in about six months ago when the first emails started coming.”
    I nodded. That was smart.
    I gestured around me, asking if there were cameras anywhere else. It took him a second, but then he caught my meaning.
    “No. I didn’t want cameras inside the house. It seems like an invasion of privacy.”
    I walked over to the side door and pulled it open to see where it led. There was a four-car garage on this side of the house. The door revealed a large workshop and space for three cars, two of which were currently occupied. There was a Mercedes sedan and a vintage 1966 Ford Mustang convertible. I stepped into the garage and to the bay holding the Mustang, admiring the smooth lines of the beautiful car. My dad had a Mustang when I was a kid. It wasn’t completely restored the way this one was, but it was his baby. I remembered how he used to talk about it, how he had all these dreams to fix it up and give it to me as my first car. I remembered the look in his eyes when he talked about it. It was one of my favorite memories of my dad.
    I held my fingers just above the thick, smooth blue paint, wanting to feel the cool metal beneath my fingers, but almost reluctant at the same time. My dad was a good man. He worked hard. He had a small mechanics shop that he ran out of an old barn behind our house. I used to get off the bus after school and run out there to help him with whatever project he had going at the time. And then came the day, when I was about thirteen, when I ran out there and he wasn’t there anymore.
    It was a heart attack, my mom said.
    The car was sold for parts, the house sold for less than we owed on the mortgage. He took out a second and a third, so we were underwater even before my mom found out there was no life insurance. I almost couldn’t blame her for the way things went from there. What could she do? She was a single mother who never learned a trade, who never thought she’d have to go to work. She never even graduated high school. I always told myself I should be grateful that she waited until just before my eighteenth birthday. At least then I had a chance. I could go to the military instead of foster care.
    I’d thought about doing the same thing after—
    “Do you want a sandwich?”
    I turned, almost startled to find the father standing there. Carrington. It was such a stuffy name for a man who looked almost jolly. He was a redhead, one of those with the shade of red hair that was almost unnaturally red, but not orange. More of a pale mahogany. His skin wasn’t terribly pale like some redheads, but not