Free Tunnel Vision by Susan Adrian Page A

successfully run four times to Barrancas, each time carrying 1.1 tons of product. Recommend building another submersible ASAP. Best place to build in forests near Puerto Ayacucho.
    He closes the report, sips at a strong, sweet drink, and laughs.
    I come back. Eric is happy, no steel underneath at all. He turns the camera off, tucks it in his pocket, and reaches for the key. “That’s your first real work. Well done, Jake. We’ve got the location of a major drug runner, and know where to get proof, where he’s going next.”
    I rub my head. I don’t have a headache, but I do feel a little off, woozy. My watch beeps: the alarm that it’s time to start packing up. That seemed short. “We’ve got to get back.”
    He nods. “You’re right. We have lunch with Chris.”
    Ugh. The lying and pretending part—especially to Chris and my family—is harder than tunneling on demand. At least that I’m good at.
    I’m the only one who’s good at it. And I just identified the location of a Colombian drug runner. Huh.
    Definitely something to get used to.

 
    9
    “Sister” by Dave Matthews and Tim Reynolds
    I was right about the snow. It’s wet, with heavy, fat flakes piling up fast. I have to drive slowly, peering through the windshield. My tail is slogging through it too, a blue sedan trailing thirty feet behind like a loyal dog.
    Myk is quiet in the back, chin on her fist, watching the snow. When we pull into the driveway, Mom’s car is in the garage and there’s another car—a white, unmarked van—in the second space. Dad’s old space. I meet Myk’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
    “She is here .” I make my voice all menacing, and do a vampire laugh. “You ready?”
    I’m not ready, after a day spent with Eric Ed at my side every bleeding second. I could use a little breathing space between handlers. But I can deal—it’s my bed to lie in. I have to help Myka with this one.
    She takes a deep breath, thinks, then shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”
    I pull behind the van, kill the engine. In the sudden silence I turn, so I can look at her square. “You know this has nothing to do with you, dorkus. Right?”
    She looks at me sideways, her eyes wet. “No.”
    “I’m serious. Mom doesn’t think you need watching, or that you’re not helping enough. She just had this offer, and it was too good to refuse.”
    She shrugs. “It feels wrong, having a stranger here. Why is she doing it? I don’t get it.”
    She feels it, somehow: that this isn’t as simple as it seems, a housekeeper who just happened to fall in our laps. She just doesn’t know what it is . And she won’t. Ever.
    “It’ll be all right,” I say, gentler. “I swear. I’ll make sure it’s all right for you, one way or the other. Okay? Trust me?”
    She tucks her hair behind one ear, eyes on me, and nods. If I ever let her down on something I really promised, I think it’d break both of us.
    “All right,” I say. “Let’s go face the dragon.”
    That probably isn’t a good thing to say. Not positive. But it does make her laugh, and that’s all that matters right then.
    “Hello,” I call when we come in and drop my keys in the bowl. I set a hand on Myk’s skinny shoulder.
    There she is, sitting at the table with Mom, drinking coffee.
    Christ, she looks like Salma Hayek. Midthirties, Latina, gorgeous smooth skin. She’s wearing a black sweater, her hair pulled back in a low bun. I cough with the surprise of it. Her mouth curves up, dark eyes on me.
    “You must be Jacob and Myka.” She stands and stretches out a slim hand, a silver bracelet dangling from her wrist. “I am Ana Delgado. So nice to meet you.”
    The accent is faint, but there. She really is Spanish, or Spanish-speaking, not just as a cover. Or she’s really good at accents. I wonder if she has a gun hidden in a back holster too.
    She takes Myka’s hand first, then mine. Her handshake is firm, strong. She smiles again, this time at Myka. “I hope you do not