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  Blind Seed

  The Technicians, Volume 8

  Olivia Gaines

  Published by Davonshire House Publishing, 2022.

  Blind Seed

  Olivia Gaines

  Davonshire House Publishing

  PO Box 6761

  Augusta, GA 30916

  THIS BOOK IS A WORK of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s vivid imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely a coincidence.

  © 2022 Olivia Gaines, Cheryl Aaron Corbin

  Copy Editor: Teri Thompson Blackwell

  Cover: Corbin Media

  Olivia Gaines Make Up and Photograph by Latasla Gardner Photography

  ASIN: B09X24GV6V

  ISBN:

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means whatsoever. For information address, Davonshire House Publishing, PO Box 9716, Augusta, GA 30916.

  Printed in the United States of America

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 10 9 8

  First Davonshire House Publishing April 2022

  Also by Olivia Gaines

  The Blakemore Files

  The Delgado Series

  Killers

  Yunior

  Becoming the Czar

  The Technicians Series

  Blind Date

  Blind Hope

  Blind Luck

  Blind Fate

  Blind Copy

  Blind Turn (Coming Spring 2021)

  Love Thy Neighbor Series

  Walking the Dawg: A Novella

  Through the Woods: A Novella

  Life of the Party: A Novella

  A Blue Christmas: A Novella

  Modern Mail-Order Brides

  North to Alaska

  Montana

  Oregon Trails

  Wyoming Nights

  On a Rainy Night in Georgia

  Bleu, Grass, Bourbon

  Buckeye and the Babe

  The Tennessee Mountain Man

  Stranded in Arizona

  Maple Sundaes and Cider Donuts

  Moonlight in Vermont

  Sunflowers and Honey

  Katherine Moves to Kansas

  The Zelda Diaries

  It Happened Last Wednesday

  A Frickin' Fantastic Friday

  A Tantalizing Tuesday

  A Marvelous Monday

  A Saucy Sunday

  A Sensual Saturday

  My Thursday Throwback

  Slivers of Love Series

  The Deal Breaker

  Naima's Melody

  Santa's Big Helper

  The Christmas Quilts

  Friends with Benefits

  The Cost to Play

  A Menu for Loving

  Thursdays in Savannah

  DEDICATION

  For Karen, for listening when I needed the ear.

  “Easy reading is damn hard writing.”

  - Nathaniel Hawthorne

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  To all the fans, friends, and supporters of the dream, as well as the Facebook community of writers who keep me focused, inspired, and moving forward.

  Write On!

  Table of Contents

  DEDICATION

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter One- A Pip

  Chapter Two- Come to Daddy

  Chapter Three- A Stone...

  Chapter Four – A Pit...

  Chapter Five – A Kernel...

  Chapter Six – Germ...Germination...Germinate

  Chapter Seven – An Ovule

  Chapter Eight – Heirs, Hers, Heir...

  Chapter Nine - Successor

  Chapter Ten - Fruit

  Chapter Eleven - Brood

  Chapter Twelve- Spawn

  Chapter Thirteen - Milt

  Chapter Fourteen - Spunk

  Epilogue

  Book Club Questions

  Meet Olivia Gaines

  Chapter One- Agreement

  Chapter Two- Concession

  Chapter Three- Terms

  Chapter One – Flake it Rain

  Chapter Two – Not All People Are Bad

  Chapter Three – Lonely Nights and Quiet Days

  Prologue

  Meeting of The Conclave of Angels (Epilogue of Blind Fold)

  Jesús de la Marta Castanza sat at the head of the conference table, with a Granny Smith apple in his left hand, his favorite pocket knife in his right. In less than ten minutes, the Conclave of Angels would begin. He didn’t enjoy meeting in person since the team of leaders gave him the willies, but this was a necessary evil. Things were changing rapidly across the country and the work seemed to be non-stop.

  The blade of the sharpened knife pierced the flesh of the apple as juice, tart and semi-sweet rolled down his thumb, forcing him to sample the nectar to prevent a mess on the table. He’d just started peeling the fruit when the door opened, ushering in a gust of wind and the five pairs of eyes put in charge of keeping watch over the continental United States.

  “This is bad,” Moloch said. “I can’t remember the last time we had a come to Jesús meeting. Hey Jesús, how are you doing?”

  Jesús lifted his chin, acknowledging each, waiting for the team to grab coffee, tea, or a sweet roll so he could get the meeting started. In one clean motion, he peeled back the first layer of the apple, creating an almost artistic replication of the fruit minus the guts decorated with lines from the cuts. A napkin under him became the home of the chunks he sliced from the flesh.

  “I hereby call this meeting to order,” Jesús said, slicing another chunk of the apple. “Archangel, there is a great deal of happenings with traffic down in the Southeast; talk to me and clear the road with your traffic signs.”

  “We are doing well. Revenue is up 20%, offenders are up 50% and most of my crew, mentally is doing well,” The Archangel said.

  “I hear you’ve married most of them and they are now family-oriented,” Jesús said.

  “They needed balance,” the Archangel spoke in his defense. “Family creates balance.”

  “Family creates targets, Archangel,” Jesús said. “Recently, your family was all together in one place. You broke the rules. You know better.”

  Gabriel Neary knew more than better. One Way was his second hitter. He lost his mother and felt alone. It was important to Gabriel and the rest of the crew for their brother in arms to know his family would be there. For that, he had nothing to say and no reason to apologize, and he wouldn’t.

  Jesús said, “nothing to say?”

  “No, I don’t,” Archangel said, lifting the cup to his lips and sipping the dark brew he knew Jesús had shipped in from his family’s coffee farm in Ecuador.

  “Hmmph,” Jesús said, moving down the table. “Moloch, you speak for the trees. How are things in the Northeast corridor?”

  Moloch, the famed Fallen Angel and Prince of Hell, commanded the Northeast crew. A burley man with hyperthyroidism, who always looked as if he were either about to turn into a frog or going to curse you out using big words with triple syllables. He ran a smaller crew of six.

  “All is well,” Moloch said. “I thought I was going to have to prune a few branches, but it might be time, Jesús, to look at a few new saplings.”

  “Are the trees getting infected?”

  “No, they are buckling a bit under the weight of the winds of change,” he said, looking at the Archangel. “You might be on to something, marrying them off to provide balance to the lifestyle.”

  Jesús often asked the same question each time the crew gathered, “are any of them enjoying the work?”

  Men who enjoyed killing were not the types of men The Company employed. Men li
ke the Glitter Man who wanted to pull the wings off flies to watch them struggle would have no compunction in pulling the arms off of humans for the same end. It was not their way.

  “It’s a job. They go to work and come home to skin rabbits or whatever they do in their downtime,” Moloch answered. “I’m starting to believe that maybe coming home to a little woman may not be a bad idea for some of them, especially Maple. He’s been out of sorts.”

  “Hold that thought,” Jesús said, moving to the next crew leader. “Azrael, how is the fruit of the Great Lakes region?”

  “Same shit, different asshole needing to die on a Tuesday morning,” Azrael answered. “We do what we can.”

  Azrael was an African American woman, thick around the middle, with a great deal of braided in hair. Her crew was well known and no one, not even Jesús himself, messed with the forbidden fruits. The Angel of Death was also not one to toy with and most of the crew gave the lady a wide berth.

  “Nothing new to report?” Jesús asked, “I heard someone took a bite out of the Cherry.’

  “Yeah, that little bastard,” Azrael said. “Cherry is still getting shots and treatments. Human bites are nasty.”

  Jesús looked bored by it all, and sighed softly, moving on to the Angel of Nature, Ariel. A soft-spoken man who commanded the storms of the Mid-West crew. He was tall, always impeccably groomed, with eyes that bore through the soul of any he gazed upon.

  “Nothing new to report on my end, except for the rise in militia groups around Kansas, Nebraska and South Dakota,” he said. “The pandemic changed a great deal for many people who have started homesteading, stockpiling weapons and canned goods, and I’m praying we’re not looking at a potential Waco situation.”

  “Are things messy in Texas?”

  Ariel pursed his lips, “things are always messy in Texas. My storms are always brewing, but Derecho, down in New Mexico said there are big changes there as well.”

  “Do you think he’s going to need reinforcements to handle the onslaught of changes happening under the skirts of ‘Murica?” Belial, the leader of the Western Crew, asked.

  “Don’t know about him, but Tornado, up in Kansas said he might need some back up if shit gets sticky,” Ariel stated. “Maybe we should provide them with a partner. Archangel, seriously, you might be on to something. An equally deadly partner, or spouse as a cover and back up in case we lose one, or one goes down.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” the Archangel said.

  Jesús slammed his fist on the table. “Archangel, with all due respect, fuck you and your thoughts,” he said with a snarl.

  Everyone at the table got quiet. They all knew what the meeting was about and why they were present. The Archangel had screwed up more than once and Jesús was fed up with his antics.

  “You’re the reason why we are here. You and that glitter-slinging fool,” Jesús snarled at him. “All of this is your fault, and you’re toying with him. Three times you’ve had him in the crosshairs, but no, not you. You requested Mr. Mann put a bullet in his leg, and not his head.”

  The Archangel remained silent. He knew Jesús well and waited for the rant to be complete before he’d tell him the plan, how things were progressing and what he expected to happen next. Right now, Jesús was mad at him. But they would all understand, and soon.

  Jesús was building up a head of steam. “One Way also had him in his own back yard and he stuck the man with a poisonous dart? What in the hell? You even allowed that fool to attend the funeral of One Way’s mother, hiding behind a headstone?”

  The Archangel still hadn’t said a word as the others bristled at the breach in protocols by the traffic signs.

  “We’re in the business of balance,” Jesús said. “Our jobs are to keep the scales evenly weighted and you’re playing games with a wanna be technician. The more time he’s allowed to live, the more he learns, which puts us all in danger. To add injuries to these insults, you placed his wife and daughter in Belial’s neighborhood. Explain yourself!”

  The Archangel sipped at the coffee, which had a heady aroma and felt like silk flowing over his tongue. Unlike Arabica beans, Ecuador grew a mixture of Arabica and Robusta beans. This coffee was Robusta and added a few hairs to his chest, which he knew he was going to need once he explained his plan. He sat the cup down and looked at Jesús. He was going to say what they all had been thinking, but were afraid to speak.

  “We’re too complacent,” Archangel said. “The Glitter Man is exposing our underbellies and where we’re vulnerable. It took him less than six hours to discover my identity.”

  “What?” Belial, the Angel of Lawlessness of the Western Crew, spoke up. “Is he coming my way soon? If so, I can tell you right now, my stable of horses will trample him.”

  “No, I’ve taken that which he seeks and moved it right under his nose,” the Archangel said with an uncharacteristic smile.

  “He’s coming for you, Archangel,” Jesús told him.

  “I know,” Archangel replied, and smiled.

  Belial leaned forward on the table, resting his elbows and placing his chin in his hands. The stupid ten-gallon Stetson sat cocked on his head, loaded with a ring of sweat stains around the band. He offered a smile that made three of the crew chiefs pull back in fear. “You’re one calculating man, Archangel. You’re tenderizing him to break his spirit.”

  “No, I’m preparing him to meet his daughter, which is the one thing he wants more than anything. He wants to be in her life, but in his current state, the young lady won’t and will have nothing to do with him, which he will also blame on us. He’ll also hate us more,” the Archangel said. “By the time all is said and done, he’ll be better, and ready to share whatever part of her life, she’ll afford him.”

  Jesús didn’t like playing games with people’s lives. In his opinion, the Archangel and his crew had thrown potholes into the man’s journey to family and now, at this late stage, Gabriel was trying some form of road to redemption. It was bullshit that was going to get someone dead. More than likely, the hand that was trying to feed The Glitter Man would be the hand that took out the Archangel.

  “Where’s the girl now?”

  “She’s a grown woman,” the Archangel said. “I’ve put her in a sort of protective custody.”

  He said it and started to laugh. Belial, Ariel, and Moloch all chuckled as well. Azrael found no humor in it at all. The Archangel enjoyed playing with people’s lives as if he were on some personal mission from the Lord on High. She understood the plan but didn’t like the idea. She only hoped it didn’t backfire on them all.

  BLOWING ROCK, NORTH Carolina

  He was tired and his back ached like a son of a bitch. Darkness would set in soon and he needed to get a fire going, pitch his tent and add in the cot, because tonight, sleeping on the ground wasn’t going to cut it. All day he’d had an odd feeling. A bad kind of feeling as if something was about to happen and he wouldn’t like it.

  He had a string of fish from earlier that he’d cleaned at the side of Bass Lake when he came off the Bass Lake Trail. The soil samples taken last week varied a bit from the soil samples taken earlier in the day and he wasn’t sure he knew what it meant. Right now, his belly was complaining right along with his back, and first thing in the morning he planned to break camp and head home to his cabin and soft bed.

  It didn’t take long to get the fire going and to put on the kettle for a cup of tea before turning in for the night. He seasoned the fish, adding a bit of oil to the cast-iron skillet, and setting it on the grid above the flame. The first two filets went into the pan just as he heard the crack of a branch from what sounded like a small foot. He moved away from the fire, slipping in behind a tree.

  The small frame came into view looking at the fire. He could almost see her licking her lips at the fish frying, but she didn’t appear to be lost. He looked about for a vehicle and didn’t see one. Where did she come from?

  “Ahoy there! I know you’re here; I just saw you,” she
called out. “Behind the tree! I hope you don’t think you’re hiding, because I can see you!”

  The man stepped out from behind the tree, looking at the young woman. She appeared to be in her early to mid-twenties. Dark hair, olive complexion, deep brown eyes and had a pack on her back. The loose-fitted jeans allowed freedom of movement and the pulled-back ponytail gave her a nerdy, but possibly, naughty librarian look.

  “Where’d you come from? I don’t see a car,” he told her.

  “I was dropped off at the top of the trailhead,” she said, removing the pack. “Permission to come aboard Captain?”

  Her nose crinkled when she smiled, and it was almost, sort of, kind of, adorable. He didn’t have time for sort of, kind of, adorable. He was snarling at her when he spoke.

  “This is not a boat, girl. That’s one, and two, you shouldn’t just walk into a strange man’s camp, not knowing if he is a psycho or worse,” he said. “And who the hell dropped you off out here in the middle of nowhere? Are you lost?”

  “No, I am not lost in the least, and that fish smells amazing,” she said, grabbing the spatula and turning each filet over in the pan. “Do you have enough to share, or do I need to go and catch my own? I’m starving. Also, I’m not a girl, but a woman.”

  He looked left and then right. His eyes scanned the hills, and the copse of trees, looking for a glint from a practical joker wanting to play with him. His fraternity brother Slow immediately came to mind. Yeah, he probably sent the woman to torment him.

  “Lady, this isn’t the least bit funny. What are you doing out here?”

  “Looking for you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yep, you,” she said, removing the fish from the pan and plating it. Spotting the other filets, she quickly dropped two more into the hot oil. “I hope the heat from the oil takes care of any cooties on my fingers. Since it’s your fish, do you want to eat them both and have me wait for the next ones, or will you be a gentleman and take one and me the other?”