“What’s that?”
“You let me raise our prices.”
Lee studied him. This had to be killing a man driven by the bottom line. It was one of the many things that made them great business partners. Lee wanted to invent things that made a difference. Branson wanted to release things that made a lot of money.
“One product,” he conceded.
Branson grinned. “Jolly good.”
They stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the city light up in the darkness of the cloud cover. Lee pulled out the number given to him by the latest private eye he’d hired. After this one, like all the ones before him, failed to track down the stolen prototype, Lee had reached out to the CEO of Goggles, another large software firm based in Seattle. She’d gone through something similar a few years ago and had hired an agency that tracked down and removed the threats when no one else could.
Which brought him back to the paper in his hand. In less than a week, the PI had a number for a tactical retrieval agency known as TREX. They wouldn’t step in unless it was a threat to national security, the PI had said. It may not be national, but it was still a threat to security. His security.
Because of that, Lee would have to improvise. He had everything in place. He just needed everyone out so he could set the stage and then call the number.
“What’s that you got there?” Branson nodded at the paper.
Folding it up, Lee tucked it away. “A little something for a rainy day.”
“Let’s hope it’s a routing number to a bank in the Caymans. All of mine were shut down by a bunch of men in black dabbling in things far beyond their comprehension. Jolly do-gooders.” He curled his lip.
“Really?” Sometimes Lee had no idea whether to take him seriously or let his rants go.
“You know why I tease you?”
“Because I believe you.” He rolled his eyes.
“Because you believe me,” he said at the same time. He turned to rejoin the party but paused and faced Lee once again. After hesitating, he placed his hand on Lee’s shoulder. “Try to enjoy yourself tonight. It’s a party, not a funeral.”
“You know what? You’re right. Let’s have some punch.” Lee followed him to the bowl and poured himself an ample amount. As suspected, it was spiked. He tasted more rum than punch. After his second glass, he loosened up and even laughed when Pablo hit both Lee and Branson with a direct shot of glitter.
It helped take his mind off what he planned to do once everyone left.
Lee kept eyeing his watch as unease settled into his conscience. He’d run out of options. He didn’t want to do this but couldn’t think of any other way. He needed to bring in outside experts to track down the stolen prototype. It might no longer be marketable, but if it fell into the wrong hands, it could still do a lot of damage.
The team carried on, laughing and telling stories that would surely be used against them at the next party. After what felt like hours of pixie dust and spiked punch, Lee checked his watch. A jolt hit his system. “Is it nine already?”
“Is it really?” One of the developers who’d been with Orchid since their first launch pulled herself out of the chair. “I’m out. I’m already paying overtime for the sitter.”
Lee saluted and smiled warmly. “Thank you. I’m sorry we kept you so long. Why don’t you get one of the guards to walk you out? It’s dark.”
She smiled, and he recognized the spark of sympathy in her eyes, which only pissed him off. He didn’t need anyone’s goddamn pity. Everyone looked at him differently after what happened, like he was some piece of fragile glass ready to shatter at any moment.
“I’ll be fine. Will you be heading out soon?”
“Soon,” Lee said with a mock yawn. “I have a few things to finish up here.”
“Have a good night, Mr. Lamont.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Branson said and held the door. “No need taking any chances.”
He glanced over his shoulder and gave Lee a nod. He offered his business partner a grateful smile in response. It really was too bad they couldn’t find a way to make it work between them. They would have been great.
“I’ll come with you.” Pablo dropped everything onto his desk and rushed out after Branson. He reappeared seconds later, eyed Lee as he grabbed his bag of glitter and raced back out. The rest of the office cleared out, leaving him alone to deliberate his next move.
He went to his office and gathered his notes off the desk, stuffing them in his briefcase before snapping it closed. He glanced around his office and let out a sigh, hoping he was doing the right thing by staging the break-in that would give him reason to call TREX. One stolen prototype was a fluke. Two was a pattern. Surely that was enough to convince the agency to intervene.
He checked his watch and nodded. It was time.
He walked down the hall to the server room and paused. Maybe he should confirm the backups finished. They’d already had two fails this month. He’d just swiped his keycard to gain access to the room when movement on the other side of the frosted glass caught his attention. Was someone in the server room?
Thoughts of the staged break-in faded as the realization set in. Shit. This was a real break-in! Lee hit the alarm, and the screech of a siren filled the otherwise silent office. Bright emergency lights swirled above him as the overhead fluorescents went dark, leaving nothing but the flashes of red, the design specific to disorient intruders.
He threw open the door and stormed inside. A loud crash forced him around in time to see a small figure dressed in all black slam into Hawkeye. With a groan, the bolts in the floor gave way and the server tower fell. The weight and momentum propelled the giant tower into the next, sending Trapper over with a loud crash.
Lee’s heart sank as server after server toppled over like dominoes until the last one smashed to the ground. Shit. He certainly hoped tonight’s cold backups had already finished. He then belittled himself for worrying about backups when someone was in his secured server room stealing God only knew what.
“You!” Lee yelled when he spotted movement as the figure slipped in between two large cabinets that housed empty backup tapes. “Stop!”
Lee sucked in a breath and froze when the assailant made a beeline right for him. Before he registered that the attacker was about to strike, the agile figure pounced like a ninja, sending them both to the ground.
His briefcase smacked into his forehead, slicing a gash that immediately sent a gush of warm, thick liquid oozing down his face and leaving him dazed. His glasses went flying. The assailant grabbed Lee’s head and slammed it down, banging it against the hard floor before grabbing the briefcase, using it to crash through the closed glass door to the hall, and escaping with it.
He wanted to scream. Goddamn it. It’d happened again. And again, Lee did nothing but let it happen. At least this time didn’t involve getting shot. His lower lip quivered as he lay there, stunned and crushed, and stared at the ceiling. The strobes of red kept him disoriented and confused. It wasn’t until he heard yelling that he blinked the rest of the haze from his brain.
“Mr. Lamont! Mr. Lamont! Are you all right?” Bruce, the largest of the building’s bodyguards, helped him to his feet.
The room spun, and Lee stumbled to stay upright. “What happened?”
“Looks like there’s been a break-in.” Doug, the smaller, hairier of the two, stated the obvious. “Were you hurt?”
Lee squinted at the comment as blood trickled into his eye. Seriously?
“Would you like me to call 9-1-1, sir?” Bruce asked and handed Lee his glasses.
He shook his head and immediately regretted it. He cringed and staggered, using Bruce to remain upright. “I’m fine.” He drew in a deep breath and straightened. Despite the room wavering and his inability to focus, he was just dandy.
“I’ll call it in.” Doug lifted his radio to his mouth.
“I need to find my phone,” Lee muttered and blinked to keep everything in focus. He needed to call TREX
now while everything was still raw.
“You need a doctor,” Bruce countered.
He pushed away and turned to return to his office. His legs gave out, and he collapsed, hitting his head once again.
And then his world went black.
7
“Who ate the last piece of bacon?” Jacob growled and immediately snapped his glare to Kyle as the teen giggled. “Damn it, Kyle.”
He smiled, his mouth full of bacon. “Yum.”
If he didn’t think of the runt as a little brother and want to protect him the way a big brother should, he would have made him eat those words along with all that bacon. But he loved the damn kid and would take on anyone at the Farm or the rest of the world to keep him safe.
“I didn’t get any,” Jacob grumbled, though he’d already forgiven Kyle.
“Maybe that’s your problem,” Maria stated casually as she glided into the kitchen, her blonde hair flowing beneath a crown of flowers like some hippy chick. She batted her eyes, and he rolled his in return. “If you got a little, you wouldn’t be so uptight. I suppose I could help you in that department if you asked really nice.”
“Gross,” Kyle muttered. Jacob nodded in agreement. They exchanged looks.
Walsh shuffled into the kitchen and didn’t slow until he was at the coffee, grumbling under his breath about mornings coming too early. Once he had a full mug in hand, he leaned back against the counter and scanned the crowded kitchen. “Why are there so many of you here?”
“I live here,” Kyle volunteered.
“You don’t.” Walsh nodded at Evan McKoy, who’d made a rare morning appearance. Since he’d gotten married, Evan only dropped in at the Farm when his husband was out of town and he didn’t want to be alone. “Don’t you have a home?”
“The penthouse is too quiet. Clint isn’t due back for another couple days.” He lifted a piece of bacon and was about to take a bite when Jacob snatched it, grinning as he shoved it into his mouth. Evan grinned right back and lifted another piece, taking a bite.
Jacob frowned and turned to refill his coffee cup. At least he got one piece. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to find Kyle holding out a plate full of eggs, bacon, and potatoes.
“I’ll share.”
He shook his head. When Kyle didn’t move, Jacob grabbed another piece of bacon. “Thanks, runt.”
That seemed to satisfy him. He returned to the breakfast counter and dug into the mountain of food.
“This is Evan.” He jumped up, his phone to his ear. “Hey, babe! How’s Paris?” He left the kitchen through the swinging door.
Jacob watched, the motion of the door like a metronome, a constant beat like hands on a clock, slowly, unapologetically robbing time. From him. From them all. He was all too aware of precious time. One more day with Jonathan. One more hour with his team. One more millisecond to make the right decision. What’d they all have in common?
Things he’d never have.
“You look ready to put your fist through that door,” Walsh pointed out as he sipped at his coffee, keeping a keen, watchful eye. It was unnerving how the man always seemed to know Jacob’s thoughts, sometimes even when he didn’t know them himself.
“I didn’t get much sleep.” Par for the course. He hadn’t gotten much sleep the past two years. First, it was being responsible for the shot that buried Jonathan. The insomnia always got worse the closer it got to the anniversary of his death.
“Nightmares?”
“Only the one I’m living right now.”
“Don’t be an asshole, loser.” Maria smiled sweetly. “We’re all in the same nightmare. Some of us just learn to deal with it. Others?” She gave him a slow and steady once over. “Just bitch about it.”
“Speaking of bitch,” Jacob fired back. “Always nice to hear you talk like such a lady.”
“Likewise.” Her smile widened as her brother walked in. “While I’d love to continue with this riveting conversation, some of us have to work around here. Are you ready, Martin?”
“The car is warm. I’m just getting coffee.”
She handed him a steaming traveler’s mug with his name on it.
“Thanks, sis. I’m just going to grab—” He stopped when she held up a full thermos. “You thought of everything.”
“I always do.”
Wow. They actually got along this morning, a rarity between the usually bickering siblings. It was a little unnerving.
Martin took a drink. “Perfect. Hey, we should swing by that donut place.”
She snapped her fingers. “That new one.”
“The one on the corner of that one street,” he added with a bright grin.
“And that other street.”
“That’s the one.”
Walsh refilled his cup. “Where are you two headed so eager-like this morning?”
“Out on a job,” Martin answered and took another drink of his coffee.
Maria smacked him. “Martin!”
“Oops.”
Instead of Walsh getting upset, he simply nodded and set his cup on the counter. “That’s what I figured.”
The siblings exchanged glances. It was Maria who asked, “You’re not mad?”
“You aren’t the first residents to go rogue on me. Instead of me ordering you to stand down, which you’d just ignore anyway, I’d rather serve as your SAC on these little side jobs you keep sneaking out to do. If you need support, you call me. Is that understood?”
“Perfectly,” they said in unison. They continued to laugh and joke with each other. Jacob and Kyle looked at each other and both shook their heads. Definitely unnerving.
“I’m driving,” Maria announced.
Martin stilled. “Like hell.”
“Wanna bet?”
“I’m driving!”
She giggled and rushed out of the kitchen, her brother on her heels. And, just like that, they were back to being the annoying, immature brother/sister combo everyone expected and tolerated.
Most of the time.
Jacob tapped Kyle’s right shoulder. As soon as the kid turned, he reached around his left and stole another piece of bacon. “Hey!”
“You’re sharing, remember?”
Kyle pulled the plate to him, creating a barrier with his arms. Jacob got the hint and chuckled as he backed away, hands up.
“Leave the adults to talk,” Walsh told the kid, who glared in return.
“I’m an adult.”
“Are you?”
“I am.”
They had a stare down, one that went on for way too long. Annoyed, Jacob stepped between them, breaking the line-of-sight contact. “Neither one of you are acting like adults right now.”
“Bacon stealer,” Kyle grumbled and slid off the barstool to set his plate in the sink. He darted a quick glance Jacob’s way, caught the nod to the dishwasher, and sighed audibly. He then washed his plate and placed it in the dishwasher. “Happy?”
“Getting there.”
He gave Jacob one more look before nodding and shuffling out the backdoor to the barn.
“That kid adores you,” Walsh pointed out, shaking his head. “For whatever reason.”
“Yeah. For whatever reason.” He took a seat and stared at the counter.
Walsh took the seat next to him. “Go ahead and ask.”
Jacob looked at him. “Ask what?”
“How many residents freelance. The answer is, more than you think. I don’t advertise it. It’s not for everyone. With Maria, it’s a hard habit to break. I’d rather know what she’s up to than have her sneaking around on me. Once an agent, always an agent.”
Come again? Maria was an ex-agent? How’d he not know that? “Can you tell me who else?”
“I’m not at liberty to divulge that information.” Walsh shook his head and eyed him. “That means no. At least not right now.”
How could he protect them if he didn’t know which ones were in the field, risking their lives on freelance work? No one else at the Far
m had training in special operations. No one else knew the dangers out there, or the lengths a spec ops agent would go to protect his family from those dangers.
“Look, you and I need to have a serious talk. It’s been a year, son.”
“A year?” He didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, nor did he want to volunteer any information.
“Since the deputy director dropped your ass on my doorstep,” he explained, annoyance sharpening his tone. “Gunshot to the gut. Bleeding all over my hardwood floors. Did you know I had to get them redone after that? You got your blood everywhere.”
“It wasn’t a party for me, either.” He vaguely remembered arriving at the Farm. The hospital was a blur—if there was even a hospital. TREX had been known to stage shit like that to control the shock factor.
“One year, son. One year since you started calling the Farm home.”
He’d never call the Farm home. Jacob kept his thoughts to himself.
“Two years since the universe took a shit on your life. Do I think it’s right why TREX kicked you out? Hell, no. Do I think they did the right thing? Hell, yes.”
Jacob nailed him with a glare that, hopefully, conveyed exactly what he thought of that comment.
“You were in no shape to keep doing what you were doing.”
“I was a frontline agent,” he seethed, the anger over the betrayal from that day bubbling just below the surface. “Spec ops. We’re trained to improvise.”
“That’s not a denial.”
“That’s not an admission,” he countered, his breathing labored.
Walsh dropped his attention to the mug cupped in his hands. “I read your psych eval. It’s heartbreaking.”
Damn it. Goddamn it. He didn’t need anyone’s sympathy. So he screwed up. So he still had nightmares of all the people he’d let down. It wasn’t that heartbreaking, or even worthy of bringing it up right now. “It’s in the past.”
“Way past.”
“Come again?” Jacob had an uneasy feeling they weren’t talking about that mission.
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