Free A New Day (StrikeForce #1) by Colleen Vanderlinden Page A

were down felt even more down, when a little help made a world of difference.
    I couldn’t do it all. Mama came first. I’d help whoever I could. It would just have to be okay, while I laid low and tried to figure out what to do next.
    The problem was that I couldn’t stop going back to the fact that there were two people now who knew my name, and that the public knew about my powers. It all added up to a little too much stress, too many chances for my identity to be blown wide open. I tried to tell myself that that was my main concern.
    But I was fooling myself, and I knew it. I could try to act all sensible, but I knew. Along with the fear of being found out, the idea of giving up the rush of the job, of not doing my Robin Hood thing, left me feeling empty inside. I knew better.
    I paced, and let the argument play out in my head. I needed a sure thing. I needed to keep working. I needed to get ahead, in case the worst happened.
    More than anything, I needed to make sure that, like Luther, I kept a tight rein on those who knew too much about me. Why not kill two birds with one stone?

Chapter Six
     
    I landed in the back yard, not far from the pool I’d tried to throw myself into the night I’d tried to rob Damian’s house. I didn’t bother trying to be sneaky. I knew he had surveillance cameras around. He’d likely gotten some kind of alert the second I’d shown up on the property. I walked, taking halting steps to the back door, and before I could even knock, I could see him walking through the kitchen, toward me. I straightened, shoved my hands back in my pockets. I was wearing my face scarf and my hooded sweatshirt again, but I knew he recognized me.
    He opened the door and silently gestured for me to come in. I ducked past him into the warmth of the kitchen and tried to remind myself that this had been my decision. Kind of.
    The door closing behind me, that click of the lock falling into place, seemed much too loud, and my stomach twisted. This was a mistake. Everything in me screamed that this was a stupid idea, that this guy, this weird guy who stockpiled pillows and bed sheets, would end up being my downfall.
    For his part, he stood there, leaning against the enormous island in his kitchen, watching me. He wore jeans, a dark blue v-neck sweater. A watch glinted on his wrist, and for some reason, that made me feel better. Sensible, responsible people wear watches, right?
    I never claimed to be sane.
    “Um,” I began. He went to the back door and closed the blinds, and I started unwrapping my scarf. I shrugged out of my jacket.
    “It’s nice to see you again,” he said, and something in his tone, the warmth there, the sense that he really actually meant it, just made me feel more uncomfortable.
    “That thing we talked about last time you saw me?”
    He nodded.
    “Is that still on the table?”
    “You know it is.”
    “I didn’t, actually. I thought maybe you’d change your mind.” I crossed my arms over my chest, which made me feel a little more calm while concealing my trembling hands.
    “What, because of that video of you?”
    I nodded again.
    He grinned, a slow smile that revealed rows of perfect, straight teeth. “That was supposed to scare me off?”
    “The heat is on,” I said. “Luther is probably so pissed at me right now.”
    He crossed his arms, and now that smile was at full force. “You realize we don’t need to make Luther happy anymore, right?”
    “Of course we do. Who else is going to sell our stuff?”
    “Come on, Jolene. You think we’re gonna keep robbing houses and trying to fence stolen goods?”
    I studied him. “What are you talking about? What else would we do?”
    He leaned toward me, eyes locked onto mine. “We go straight for the money. Banks, baby. Armored cars. No fences. We don’t need anybody but you and me.”
    “Luther…”
    “We’ll still give Luther her tribute,” he said, waving his hand as if it was of no consequence. “Neither of us would be