Milf Hunter: Seducing And Taming Beauties

Chapter 726: Off the Grid

The familiar hum of energy coursed through me as I shifted back into the suit and coat I’d worn when I first met Claire. The fabric settled against my skin like armor, a reminder of the role I needed to play.

With a thought, I teleported back to the motel, the dimly lit room materializing around me. The air was thick with the scent of stale coffee, old carpet, and the faint metallic tang of adrenaline that still clung to the walls from the night before.

"SERA," I murmured under my breath, "Where’s Claire?"

The response flashed across my mind instantly, sharp and precise like a blade unsheathed.

"Claire visited an internet café downtown. Purchased weapons and ammunition from the dark web—two handguns, extra magazines, and a tactical knife. She also contacted a hacker under the alias ’GhostByte’ for intel on Nickolai’s known locations."

I exhaled slowly, my fingers tightening around the edge of the sink. Of course she did. Claire wasn’t the type to sit idle while her enemies breathed. She was already three steps ahead, arming herself for a war she didn’t even fully understand yet.

"She has also contacted her Russian friend named Yelena," SERA continued, "using the dark web message system. Now she’s on her way back. ETA: seven minutes. She stopped to pick up breakfast."

I smirked. Of course she did. Claire wasn’t the type to let chaos disrupt her routine. If anything, she’d use it as fuel.

Exactly seven minutes later, the door creaked open. Claire stepped inside, her sharp eyes scanning the room with the precision of someone who expected an ambush. Satisfied, she locked the door behind her with a sharp click and turned to face me. Without a word, she tossed a brown paper bag onto the bed.

"Here," she said, her voice clipped but not unkind. "Have some breakfast. You look like you need it."

I reached for the bag, peeking inside to find a sandwich wrapped in wax paper, a container of what smelled like a cheese omelet, and a small carton of orange juice. Claire pulled out a sandwich for herself, unwrapping it with practiced efficiency before taking a bite.

I followed suit, grabbing my own sandwich and the omelet. The food was surprisingly good—warm, fresh, the kind of thing you’d find at a 24-hour diner that catered to night-shift workers and fugitives.

Claire chewed thoughtfully, her gaze flicking to the window before settling back on me. "We can’t stay here," she said, her voice all business. "This place is compromised. We need to find another location—somewhere off the grid, somewhere they won’t think to look."

I nodded, taking a bite of my sandwich. "Yeah, I get it," I said between chews. "I’ve seen it in movies—once you’re targeted, you’ve got to keep moving. Stay one step ahead so the enemy can’t lock onto your location."

Claire let out a short, humorless chuckle, shaking her head as she swallowed another bite. "You and your movies," she said, a ghost of a smirk tugging at her lips.

"This isn’t some Hollywood thriller, Reynolds. This is real life. And in real life, there are cameras everywhere. Face recognition, license plate readers, traffic cams—you name it. You think you’re being clever by moving around? All you’re doing is giving them more breadcrumbs to follow."

She took a sip of the juice, her eyes never leaving mine. "The second you step outside, you’re being tracked. The second you use a credit card, a phone, hell, even a loyalty card at some gas station, they’ve got you. And trust me, Nickolai’s got people who know how to exploit that."

I wiped my hands on a napkin, feeling the weight of her words. "Yeah, you’re right," I admitted, setting the sandwich down. "I guess I shouldn’t trust my nerd brain to handle real-world espionage."

Claire’s smirk deepened, but it didn’t reach her eyes. There was no real amusement there—just the exhausted acknowledgment of someone who’d seen too much to find humor in our situation.

"Stick to what you’re good at, Jack," she said, finishing her sandwich and crumpling the wrapper into a tight ball. "And right now, that’s staying alive and letting me handle the rest."

I took a sip of the juice, the sweetness cutting through the tension in the room. "So what’s the plan?" I asked, keeping my tone light but my focus sharp. "Another motel? A safe house? Or are we going full fugitive and hiding out in an abandoned warehouse like a couple of action movie clichés?"

Claire’s expression turned serious, her mind already working through the logistics. "Somewhere without cameras," she said, her voice low and deliberate. "Somewhere we can disappear for a few hours while I figure out our next move. Somewhere clean—no ties to me, no ties to you, no digital footprint."

She leaned back slightly, her eyes narrowing as she considered the options. "I’ve got a place in mind. But we’ll need to move fast. Nickolai’s men aren’t stupid. They’ll be scanning every motel, every cheap rental, every back-alley hideout in the city by now."

I set down the juice, meeting her gaze. "Then let’s not give them the chance," I said, my voice steady. "Lead the way, Agent Starling. I’m right behind you." I knew she was going to meet Yelena.

Claire studied me for a long moment, her eyes searching mine as if trying to decide whether to trust me. Finally, she gave a sharp nod, her jaw setting with determination. "Good," she said, standing up and grabbing her jacket from the back of the chair. "Because we’re running out of time. And I’m not letting Nickolai slip through my fingers."

I didn’t argue. I didn’t remind her that Nickolai wasn’t the real enemy—not yet. Instead, I stood up, brushing the crumbs from my hands and grabbing my coat. "Then let’s go," I said, my voice firm. "But Claire?"

She paused, turning to look at me with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"We do this together," I said, holding her gaze. "No lone-wolf heroics. Promise me that."

Claire’s lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes flickering with something unreadable. "I can’t make that promise, Reynolds," she said, her voice quiet but unyielding. "Not after what he did. Not after what I’ve lost."

I stepped closer, my voice dropping to a near-whisper. "I get it. I do. But if you go in blind, if you let rage cloud your judgment, you’re going to get yourself killed. And then what? Nickolai wins. Everyone wins except the people who deserve justice."