“What’s in there?” Mason asked, unable to hide his curiosity.
“A new copper wiring that relays data instantly with the process of trilateration.”
Mason knew he looked like a confused puppy as he cocked his head to the side. “Process of tria-what?”
Free smiled sweetly at him. “It’s cute when you say stuff like that, Mase.”
Mason blushed, and Free continued to explain. “It means the high-functioning GPS can literally pinpoint your location. It’ll never go dead, malfunction, run out of data space, or whatever the hell happens with those damn Apple phones.” Free walked over to him and gripped the back of Mason’s neck. “Turn your head to the right and sit still.”
“Free, what are you doing?” Mason frowned.
“Just a little insurance policy for my own sanity.”
“Free, I said—”
Free leaned in so close that Mason could feel his slow exhales tingling his outer ear. “Don’t move,” Free whispered. “It’s a little warm. The clear silicone will mold to the rim of your ear. Don’t worry, it’s undetectable.”
Mason tried to tamp down his excitement. His best friend was fitting him for a Heart Locator. A life-saving communicator that would soon be used by almost every military branch and law enforcement agency in the country. All the men in God’s task force, including Hart’s SWAT command, had these patented devices that Free had designed himself.
“Now, you will be able to reach me at any time, no matter how dead your cell phone is, and I can reach you too. Anytime… anywhere.” Free dropped his eyes to him for a brief moment before they focused back on their task. “No matter where you are, Mase, I can get you to safety.”
“Free, I—”
“Just, do not go into outer space. I’m still working on the range,” Free said in all seriousness.
Jesus Christ. Sometimes Mason didn’t even feel worthy to be in Free’s presence. “Free, my work isn’t like what Tech, Steele, and the other guys go through out there.” Mason shook his head. “Last night was a once-in-a-career freak thing. My most dangerous calls are road rage accidents and midnight domestic squabbles.”
“Humor me,” Free said blandly. “It is so lightweight you won’t even know it’s there.”
“So, you’ll be listening and spying on me the rest of my life?” Mason teased.
Free scoffed. “As much as you’d like that, no.” Free took one of the smartwatches from out of a locked case and removed Mason’s utility watch from his wrist.
“Hey.” Mason frowned.
“That didn’t have any sentimental value, no?” Free asked though he was already replacing Mason’s timepiece with the new one.
For the next ten minutes, Free explained the smartwatch and how to activate it if Mason needed backup. Mason could not only instantly reach Free, but he could also directly communicate with God and his SWAT captain with only a push of a button. A button I’m staying far away from. Free finished with his tutorial, and Mason stood to leave. “I need to get going. Clark’s waiting for me.”
“Almost done.”
“So I better go take this ass-whupping like a man.” Mason chuckled, trying not to show his wariness of facing God… alone.
“No need,” Free said as he surveyed his work, still touching and manipulating the shell of Mason’s ear. “He told me to get you wired. That’s it.”
“What?” Mason asked, confused.
“I gave God and Day the footage from the time you got on Cherokee until you made your way to the alley behind the tequila bar.” Free was sitting on a stool, his slim fingers flying across one of the keyboards when an image of his homeless confidant, Arnie, appeared on a screen. “He’s the one who tipped you off, yes?”
Mason didn’t bother feigning surprise that God had already secured the footage from last night and found out about his ally. He was well aware of God’s resources. “Yeah. He used to live a couple blocks over at the park, but he’s not there anymore.”
“Okay.” Free nodded. “God wants you to stay on that guy. See if he’ll keep feeding you information.”
“He’s not usually as helpful as he was last night.”
“Maybe not. But so far, you two are the only ones who’ve been able to put eyes on one of the Bulldogs actually doing a deal.”
Mason had to sit back down. The Bulldogs were a deadly drug gang that had given God and Day a run for their money on multiple occasions. They were sticky and smart, but most of all, they loathed cops. Mason would surely be dead or being tortured right now if he hadn’t gotten away. Shit.
“If you see or hear anything else out there…” Free let his words trail off, not needing to repeat why God told him to do this.
Did this mean that maybe he could be potentially recruited to the task force or something? But he wasn’t a detective. Not yet anyway. Mason didn’t have time to think about that too long. He had to get to work.