Anew: Book Two: Hunted Read Online Free PDF Page A

what passes for my heart before I let them hurt her.
    “You okay?” Edward asks. He looks concerned. We’ve known
each other since we met at school more than a dozen years ago. He’s gone on to
become a pillar of the community, head of his family’s financial empire. While
I’m…hell, if I know.
    “I’m good,” I say.
    He nods but he doesn’t look convinced. Indicating the intel,
he says, “Let’s go over this again.”
    We do, looking into every nook and cranny that might provide
a lead. I’m impressed by Edward’s breadth and depth of knowledge. He’s a
totally honorable guy who I’d trust with my life--and maybe even with my
sister--but he still understands the shadow world of money manipulation better
than almost anyone. I’m as above board as I can be given my line of work but I
sure as hell wouldn’t want him coming after me.
    “So you think the source of HPF’s funds has been
deliberately hidden?” I ask when we’re done.
    “No question,” Edward replies. His confidence is unshakable.
“Only thing I’m not sure of is how many layers I’ll have to dig through to get
to it. But don’t worry, we will find out who’s behind this.”
    “Good to know. I’ll have a team on standby.”
    He glances at me but he doesn’t say anything. We both know
that when he comes up with irrefutable proof of who was funding the HPF, he’ll
be signing that man or woman’s death warrant. In a world where wealth can
corrupt any court, the only justice is personal.
    Edward leaves a short time later. When he’s gone, I wander
out onto the terrace that wraps around the entire floor. The building is tall
enough that on many days I’d be looking down on a cloud bank but today the
weather is clear.
    I stand, hands driven into the pockets of my jeans, and
stare out over the wide swath of the park that splits the upper east and west
sides of Manhattan. I’m so high up that the people down below are no more than
tiny specks but I can make out the curve of the pond tucked into the southeast
corner of the park. Not far from it are some of the city’s most exclusive
residences including the McClellans’. I wonder if Amelia is there now, getting
ready for the ball.
    I could find out. All it would take is a quick call to the
security that I’ve had on her ever since she arrived in the city. Although the
HPF effectively no longer exists, I’m not about to ease up on her protection.
Not until I know who was behind the threat in the first place. And why.
    I’m still contemplating the question of who was really
responsible for the recent destruction of the Institute where the customized
replica technology that made Amelia possible was developed when the link in my
pocket chimes. I step through the nearest door before answering, into the art
gallery that divides my apartment from the reception and meeting rooms on the
other half of the penthouse floor.
    I’m standing in front of a holographic image of men on
patrol in a narrow street, taking fire from adjacent buildings yet continuing
to advance. This side of the gallery is devoted to images of war. The real
thing, no chest-beating triumphalism, just the horror of it coupled with the
courage and decency to uphold values that, however fragile they may be, are
still the best hope for humanity.
    I worry about that more these days, wondering where my own
country is going and whether I’ll find myself fighting on home ground
eventually. I’ll move heaven and earth to prevent that. This thing with the HPF
could give me an edge but I’m a long way from figuring out what that might be.
    My gaze drifts down the length of the gallery to the side
that could be said to represent the nature of eroticism that can be as powerful
and dangerous in their own way as war itself. The statues of the bound
ballerina that were on display as a favor to a friend are gone. I couldn’t bear
to have them around after my last encounter with Amelia.
    I can still see her pleading with me to believe