Free Anarchy Found by J.A. Huss Page A

Montgomery. How nice to hear from you again. I’m sorry, but I have no news about the case just yet. I’m—”
    “It’s a personal call.”
    Shit. “Oh. Well, how can I help you?”
    “Our date, remember? To see the stars.”
    “Mr. Montgomery—”
    “Atticus.”
    Whatever. I roll my eyes. “Atticus, I’m afraid I have plans tonight.”
    “I know. Big party for the new kid in town.”
    I laugh. “Surely you’re not trying to tell me you’re going?”
    “Why wouldn’t I be?”
    I sigh. He’s not going to make this simple. And what did I expect? He’s the son of a billionaire. It’s easy to make snap judgments about people and see them as ridiculous, or snide, or lacking in manners. But people at the top like Atticus Montgomery are where they are for a reason. And silver spoon aside, he’s well-educated, fearless, and persistent. “Well, it’s a party for the new satellite company—”
    “SkyEye.”
    “Right. SkyEye. They’re something of a direct competitor, aren’t they?”
    “Satellites,” Atticus says with a pfffft. “Expensive tech built for the super-rich. It’s just not practical. So no, we’re really not competitors. And we were invited.”
    “Oh, God, is your father going to be there too?”
    “You’re going then?”
    “Oh, I have to. I’m in charge of security. So yes. But I’m afraid if you think we can use it as our date, I have to decline. Duty, right?”
    “Right.” I can almost hear the smile and it sends a shiver up my spine. I’m not sure why he’s sorta creepy to me, but he is. That tower. I really don’t want to see the stars from that thing. It’s just weird. “But you’re dressing for the occasion, I hope? I’d like to see you cleaned up. No offense to your everyday wear. But the tan slacks and white blouses are kind of… ordinary. You’re definitely not ordinary.”
    I huff out a breath. “Well, no offense taken. I do my best to be as ordinary as possible. I’m afraid it suits me.”
    “All pretenses. No ordinary woman wears saddle shoes.” He chuckles on the other end of the line. “It says fearless nine-year-old. But in all the right ways.”
    I burst out laughing. “Jesus, Atticus. You have a way with words. I’m not sure how to take that, but—”
    “Some children just naturally feel invincible and immortal. Like the world is at their beck and call. Like it owes them nothing but a challenge and no wall is too high, no obstacle too large, and no enemy too close.”
    I stand there in silence for a moment, thinking about how right he is. Or was. “Well,” I say after several long seconds. “I might’ve been that way once. But today, they’re just comfortable shoes.”
    “Hmm,” he says thoughtfully. “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that. And even though you’re working, I’m sure you’ll be able to spare a moment to say hello when I seek you out. Have a nice morning, Miss Masters.”
    The line goes dead.
    I press the end tab just to make sure the call disconnected and slump down in a chair near the front window as I think about what he said. He’s been checking up on me, obviously. And why not? I’m the detective in charge of a major case that involves his billion-dollar business. It’s only logical that he went looking.
    But I respect the fact that he didn’t bring it up. Not directly. And that he could read so much into my scant history available online. I was a fearless nine-year-old. And that lasted through ten, eleven, twelve. All the way up to sixteen.
    But sixteen… I look down at my saddle shoes. The two-tone brown leather is scuffed and the soles are worn down just right. I wear them every day without fail. They remind me of happier times. Back when motorcycles were fun and I was fearless. Back when my family was whole and even though the people who raised me were transient—we moved from town to town and only stopped when we had to—their love was limitless. Back when living meant something more than military duty