never had to endure before. Finally, after weeks at the bottom, he had enough of his money in his hands that he was able to create a new identity. When he felt he was safe, he flew to Alaska, the last place Duff and his team would look. It took two weeks to make his way to the contiguous fifty states, working fishing boats, doing things almost no one else would in the name of revenge. In Canada, he finally caught a ride with a group of hippies to get over the boarder and in to the US.
The trip south from Washington State to Colorado was easy. He'd bought supplies and went camping two days ago, setting up on the other side of the mountain from Wild Bluff, staying away from their sensors, and keeping far from any trip wires. The equipment he'd purchased leaned toward the technical in nature, granting him a good view of the ranch and the barns.
Earlier in the day, he'd climbed over the top of the mountain, searching for a spot to watch from. That's when he'd pointed the thermal imaging device he'd procured at the barn. At first he didn't recognize what he saw, then he realized two of the guys were banging each other. Engaging in sex in the barn, just like he and Grant used to do. If only he could figure out who the fuck was fucking. The last light of day was fading fast, already the details of the landscape were muted, leaving him at risk of tripping and falling. He didn't want to use a flashlight, but he might be forced to once he headed back to his camp. The couple was blowing each other, one guy on his knees. Images of guys fucking filled his mind, and though he did have a voyeuristic streak a mile wide, he wanted to see who was getting it on. When he took a break for a piss, a third body joined the pair. But the third wasn't in for the sex. When they headed for the door, he pulled out his high-powered binoculars, trying to catch a glimpse of who was getting it on in the last of the light.
The men in the barn opened the door and stepped out. He looked through the lenses, focusing. Shock coursed through him. Marshal and Grant hugged. A new guy stood uncomfortably off to the side. Craig wished he had a parabolic mic trained on them so he could hear what they said. He almost laughed out loud.
Grant had finally slept with Marshal. He wondered what it would be like to see them together. He'd fucked Grant plenty of times to know what he was like, but what would the guy he'd stolen Grant from be like? Maybe he'd get a chance later, once he enacted the first part of his plan.
He wondered how long Grant had waited before slipping between the sheets with Marshal. Maybe the bastard hadn't been as into him as he pretended. But Grant had sworn he loved Craig. That had been the best part of being with Grant. The devotion the guy showed him was much more than he expected. Too bad Grant didn't know the truth. Of course, that would have ruined everything. Grant had been so stupid at times. The guy was desperate, taking anything Craig offered, even if he wasn't offering much.
The sky was almost pitch black and he needed to get back to camp. He wanted to stick around and see what else he could find out, but that could wait for another day. Craig turned and retraced his steps, finally pulling out the flashlight as he headed back over the mountain to bed down.
Leaving the ranch had been easy. Actually, the first time he'd ever gone against Duff's rules, he'd set his course. The mission was easy compared to some. In and out, kill the bad guy then go home. But he hadn't killed the guy. It was one of those split-second decisions he made, setting him on a different course. When he'd arrived at the hit, he'd woken the guy up instead of killing him on the spot. They talked. It had been easy. Craig had taken a payment in exchange for a life. It took him an extra day to help the man disappear.
It hadn't seemed like much at the time, but he'd made millions from that one twenty-four hour time slot. No one figured it out. That first day back at the
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