Free American Lease (A Dylan Cold Novel Book 1) by K. D. McAdams Page A

high school kids coming in to empty the place. Plus she would be glad he was gone; it was probably a great trade, from her perspective.
    Montana barked at the door and shook him out of his melancholy. He walked to the door and let his groggy canine companion in. A large, wet tongue hung out the side of the dog’s mouth and he breathed with a shallow pant.
    “You must be a little thirsty, huh boy?” Dylan asked. He was going to miss this dog.
    Dylan filled the dog’s bowl with fresh cool water and placed it on the kitchen floor. Montana drank eagerly and drained the bowl without leaving. Dylan poured him another round of water and finished cleaning up from his meal.
    When the few things were cleaned and put away, nerves took over. He had nothing to do and his heart began to race. Maybe there was a project he could complete for Eliza before he left?
    Tap-tap-tap.
    A gentle rapping came from his front door. Dylan had never been short with Ryan before, but the boy’s nervous knock was unmistakable. He wondered for a second if Ryan was more afraid of his mother or of Dylan.
    Dylan opened the door and greeted the young man. “Hey Ry, what’s up buddy?”
    “Hey Dylan.” Ryan tossed the football from one hand to the other. “Catch?”
    “Does your mom know you’re down here?” Dylan asked.
    “Yeah, I think so,” Ryan replied sheepishly.
    “Which means no. Look, I promise I didn’t do anything wrong, but your mom is a little scared of you spending time with me. And I can understand that. But you need to ask her before we play catch,” Dylan said.
    Ryan stepped back several feet and looked up to the window above.
    “Mom!” he yelled. “I’m playing catch with Dylan. We’re right here in the front yard so you can watch if you’re nervous.”
    Dylan couldn’t help but smile at the kid. Playing catch was one of the few, simple, good things left. How could he say no? The ball sailed toward the house and Dylan caught it surely. At the very least, he had to give the kid his ball back.
    A soft spiral floated through the air and Ryan easily ran under it. Inside the apartment, Montana grunted as he circled the floor a few times and lay down in a ball of golden fur. Of all the things Dylan was getting in trouble for, catch was probably the only one worth it. He walked out to the middle of the yard and held up his hands. Ryan tossed the ball and took a few steps further back.
    After only a few minutes of catch, Ryan couldn’t stand still any more. He started to run left and right, making himself work to catch each pass.
    “Make me jump for it!” Ryan ordered excitedly.
    Dylan threw the ball a foot over his head and Ryan leapt just high enough to get his fingers on it. The ball bounced on the grass and the boy raced to collect it and get it back to Dylan.
    Ryan gave a new command. “Lead me this time,” he said, and pointed in the direction he wanted to run.
    As Dylan threw the ball, the black FBI car slowly rolled down the street and pulled to the side of the road directly opposite the driveway. The driver’s window rolled down and Agent Smiths face stared out. Ryan didn’t notice a thing.
    “Dylan!” Ryan called out as the ball rapidly approached Dylan’s face.
    Dylan could deal with being followed and harassed, but he didn’t want it to impact Ryan and Eliza. Did the FBI really think he was just going to sit outside and polish the gun used to kill a police officer? Or read the mysterious document that no one else was even talking about?
    A few more distracted throws were managed while Dylan thought about what to do next. When a long camera lens popped through the window and focused on Ryan, something in him snapped.
    “Go long,” Dylan ordered.
    He threw the ball almost as far as he could, way past Ryan and into the woods at the edge of the yard. Once Ryan’s back was turned, Dylan headed for the car.
    There was no sign of movement from the car. The lens stayed trained on Ryan until Dylan was only feet