He glowers at the Chinese takeout on the dining room table once more then stomps past me into the living room, circling the room twice like a wolf looking for a soft spot, before finally stretching out on the floor in front of the electric fireplace along the far wall.
Jude looks over at me, an eyebrow raised in silent question. I shrug. “I’m not sure. I’ve never seen him this out of sorts.”
He’s not the only one. Jude, Trigg, me — obviously, Jax. We’re all varying shades of rattled after the past two days. Gunner’s just the most open with his emotions. If he’s upset, he swears like it’s on sale at Macy’s. If he doesn’t like something, he growls at it. If he has nervous energy, he roughhouses. Trigg? He gets really quiet. And Jude, he’s actually becoming more expressive, which scares me even more than him shutting down.
The big guy is down and out for the moment, laying in front of the fireplace with the frozen veggies over his face. After warning him to settle down three times, Jude finally wearied of the younger man’s attempts to wrestle with him and popped him hard with a friendly jab to the face. I watch across the room as Jude’s rescue, Mabel, sidles up to him and curls up in the crook of Gunner’s arm, silently soothing the big man with her muzzle on his chest. I see some of the tension ease out of his body. I think he was looking for a punch in the face. Maybe that’s just what he needed — a hard hit followed by a soothing cuddle.
While we wait, I act as the barkeep and make us some drinks. I hand Gunner his first, a whiskey neat, and he has it chugged down before I’ve made it across the room to Trigg, who is still standing at the window, looking forlorn. Trigg accepts the glass of rum and coke from me with a silent nod and takes a small sip as he goes back to staring outside. Jude is my last customer, and he’s drinking Yorsh — a combination of vodka and beer that I find immensely unpalatable, but one he’s quite fond of, especially when he’s in a dark mood.
I settle back into an armchair with a glass of pinot and stare at the fire, lost in thought. We’ve been off our game ever since yesterday when Trigg discovered our stock was plummeting. Today at the office, while we executed the first steps of damage control, we started getting short with one another. Blame it on stress or lack of sleep, but we’re all feeling a little cross this evening, and the atmosphere is tense.
Jude finally stops tapping his feet and rises from the couch, walking over to the fireplace. He nudges Gunner in the side with his boot. “You gonna lay low for a while now?”
Both Gunner and Mabel look up. “Yeah. Sorry. I shouldn’t have tackled you like that.”
“I’m getting old.”
Gunner scowls at him. “You’re not that old. You still have a wicked right hand.” He pulls the bag of peas away from his face to show Jude evidence of his handiwork.
Jude shakes his head. “I’m sorry, too. You know I love ya, though.”
Trigg twists away from the window in surprise, the astonishment on his face equaling mine. Hold everything — what did Jude just say?
Gunner repositions the frozen vegetables over his eye. He clears his throat, but it doesn’t keep a crackle out of his voice. “I love you, too, Chief. Now fuck off, I’m trying to bond with your dog.”
Jude grins down at Gunner before walking over to join Trigg at the big bay window, but I can still see it in his face. The disquiet hasn’t left him. He’s a bundle of nerves, wound tight, and he’s going to unravel into a chaotic mess if Emma doesn’t surface soon.
Gunner rolls toward us. “Where is she? Has anyone heard anything?”
Jude shakes his head. “Just the next safe code from Desmond, as scheduled.”
“She should be able to come tonight, right?” Gunner asks. “How long ago did you send the all clear?”
I check my watch. “It’s only been ninety minutes.”
Gunner flops onto his back and slams his palm down on the floor, startling Mabel. “Damn! It feels like hours.”
Trigg sighs and walks away from the window, but he doesn’t join us. He goes to the dining room and slumps into a chair. A second later, he pushes his hands across the table, sweeping a small space clear of Chinese takeout, then folds his arms and lowers his head onto them, face down.
Gunner grunts again, one hand soothing Mabel, his eyes aimed at the ceiling. “What about Jax?”
Jude had calmed down a little about that, but this evening, he’s riled up again. Jax should have been out this morning, but his release paperwork has hit a snag — as in, it’s been misplaced, on purpose no doubt. His handlers at the NSA said they’ve done their part, and Jax will be out when he’s out. They’re pretty pissed and don’t care if he has to sit in lockup a while longer. Ever since his big bust years ago, Jax has kept himself restrained to misdemeanors, but assaulting two police officers was really pushing it this time.
“He’s probably going to be in there another night,” Jude says angrily. It’s just one more snag in a long line of shit we’ve all been dealt. “That goddamn dumpster fire will have to wait.”
“Don’t take it out on him.” Trigg’s voice is muffled against the dining room table.
“What?”
Trigg lifts his head from the table. “You wouldn’t have done the same thing if you thought Emma was in that car?”
There’s a snarl of annoyed acknowledgement that flashes over Jude’s features. “I need another drink,” he says, looking at his empty glass.
His phone rings just as he starts toward the kitchen, and he stops short, digging into his pocket. He checks the screen and takes a steadying breath as it rings a second time. “It’s Desmond.”
Simultaneously, Gunner springs up from the floor and Trigg stumbles out of his chair at the table. I stand up, too, and we all hover around Jude as he answers the call, snapping the phone to his ear.
He doesn’t bother with pleasantries. “Tell me what’s going on. Are we good?”
I watch as his grip on the phone tightens, the expression on his face slipping from optimism to crestfallen, then transitioning quickly into fury. My stomach flips with each change, wishing to God he’d put the call on speakerphone so I could hear what the hell is coming across on the other line. Is she hurt? Compromised?
Jude barks into the phone. “No. Not acceptable.”
“What the fuck is going on?” Gunner growls.
Jude lifts his hand toward us, signaling for silence. “Why the fuck wouldn’t she want to? It’s safer here than anywhere she could possibly be. We’ve cleared it. Daniel has all sorts of shit set up in here to monitor the...” He drifts off, eyes unfocused as he listens to Desmond’s reply.
“What?!” he bellows. “Why the fuck would she meet with them?” His hands are shaking with anger, the veins in his neck popping. “Why the hell didn’t you stop her?”
Another moment of silence passes as Jude’s face turns red. “Well, I don’t give a goddamn fuck what we told you,” he spits.
Unlike him, the blood drains from my face. Trigg looks as white as I do. I know we’re each filling in the silences between Jude’s terse replies. Gunner hurls the bag of peas at the wall, and it explodes, green shrapnel shooting in every direction. Trigg curses and turns his back on us, striding away. Me? I’m frozen.
“Too fucking bad! Put her on the line...” Jude insists, his voice growing louder with every syllable. “I need to talk to her, I need to—” He halts, his expression changing to alarm. “What the fuck was in it?”
“In what?” Gunner asks, crowding up to Jude.
“Bullshit!” Jude yells into the phone. “What the fuck was in the folder?”
As the call takes a turn from bad to worse, my heart is pounding in my chest so hard I feel like it’s vibrating every inch of me.
Jude’s lips curl into a snarl at Desmond’s reply. “Oh, you are a goddamn motherfucking saint.” He chucks his phone against the wall, and the screen shatters before falling to the floor.
Gunner is in his face instantly. “What the fuck was that? What’s happening?”
J
ude presses his fists to the sides of his head and lets out a roar. “Fuck!”
“Tell me what the hell is going on with Emma!” Gunner demands. They’re standing toe to toe, and by the litany of cursing, I have the feeling someone is about to get another black eye.
“She’s not fucking coming home, that’s what’s going on. But don’t worry.” Jude points at his ruined phone. “That asshole will keep letting us know she’s fine.”
“Where is she going?” Trigg asks. “Another safehouse?”
Jude turns to him, his arms spread wide. “How the fuck should I know. She doesn’t want us to know where she is.”
Dread takes hold of me. “I’m guessing from the sound of things, she met with BHC.”
“Ding, ding, ding,” Jude says. “You win the fucking prize.”
I draw in a sharp breath and push on, ignoring the sarcasm. “What did BHC give her? You said there was a folder.”
Jude’s eyes are wild, and I have no freaking clue what the man is capable of right now, so I back off a step. “Fuck if I know,” he growls. “Desmond said he doesn’t know, but I think he’s full of shit.”
I rub my hand across my face, trying to think. “Well, if it’s something that has her freaked out enough that she’s refusing to come back here, there’s really only one of three things it could be.”
“What’s that?” Gunner’s beside me in a second.
“Well, there’s the off chance that they made her an offer she couldn’t refuse. Something far more than what we — or anyone else — put on the table. It could have been a contract.”
“No way,” Trigg says adamantly. “Emma wouldn’t sign with them unless they were holding her at gun point — doesn’t matter how much they offered.”
Jude is silent for a moment, his lips pursed. He looks up at us, his face etched with worry. “You know… she’d take their offer if she thought it would help us somehow.”
The three of us get quiet as we consider his words, our faces growing solemn. He’s right. She would do it in a heartbeat if she felt it would right all the wrongs that happened yesterday.
After a second, he shakes his head. “But I don’t think that’s it. The only thing Desmond would tell me is that she was sorting through the folder for a long time, and from what he could see from his position, it looked like there were pictures in it. That doesn’t sound like they were going over a contract for her program.”
“So then, what?” Gunner is practically jumping up and down.
“Another possibility is that BHC might have shown her some plan of theirs to hurt us if she comes near us again — but I really doubt that,” I say.
Trigg shakes his head. “Yeah, she would have told the security team, and they’d be on top of it. We’d know about it by now.”
“I agree,” Jude says. He tips his chin at me. “What else are you thinking?”
Dammit. I take a deep breath. I’d rather have the threat of a sniper bullet than to put words to my last guess of what might have been in that folder. “The only other thing I can think of is that… they gave her some damning information about us.”
“What the fuck dirt could they possibly have?” Gunner turns his full attention — and his pent-up aggression — in my direction. “We all know those SEC and IRS charges are bullshit! Hell, they never even came up with a warrant, did they? And the lawyers double-checked all our paperwork. Pentabyte’s so clean we might as well have bleached assholes.”
I ignore his foul tirade. “I’m not talking about Pentabyte’s paperwork. I mean the drone program. The one Jeremy stole from her. That I worked on.”
Gunner’s eyes go wide as my words register. “Fuck. You never told her, did you?”
“No.” It’s such a simple word, but it echoes heavily through the silence in the room with the weight of all the implications of my omission.
Trigg blinks, a silent stony expression on his face as he stares at me. But Jude is about to lose it. “You think that’s what they gave her?” he snaps, pacing furiously in front of the couch. “Something to do with the military program?”
I spread my hands. “I’m just guessing. But it seems likely, don’t you think? Jeremy would have copies of that contract. My name is on it. If he had the chance to use it and didn’t, I’d be shocked. Seems like something he’d be itching to do.”
“Why didn’t you fucking tell her?” Gunner yells.
“I should have told her as soon as I realized,” I say, nodding quickly, trying to get the words out as my stomach twists into knots.
“Yeah, you should have,” he says, swallowing hard.
“But… but I don’t know — I was waiting for the right moment.” I shrug, staring at the floor. “And it just never seemed like a good time to bring it up.” I know he’s looking for a better answer than that, but I don’t have anything redeeming to offer him. The truth is, I had plenty of opportunities, but I never could bring myself to say anything. I’ve been a coward.
“Make that both our names.” Jude sighs, his breath shaky as he walks back and forth. “I signed off on the field testing.”
“Would that really drive her away?” Gunner asks, his voice volumes quieter than it was just a moment ago. I glance up at him and see his face twisted in anguish as though he’s on the verge of breaking down into tears.
“Yeah, I think so,” I say regretfully, my heart sinking lower than I ever thought possible.
“That’s not the only thing they might have,” Trigg says quietly, leaning against the wall at the edge of the room.
Jude comes to a sudden halt and tips his chin up in alarm. “What do you mean?”
Trigg draws in a long breath through his nose and begins counting things off. “Well, there’s Jax’s history with Jeremy, for starters. And all the times we’ve had to rub elbows with that asshole during those godawful fishing trips and corporate networking events. And, I dunno, like half a dozen other things, probably,” he says, his shoulders sagging. “Things we failed to disclose, things we justified as being okay at the time — I mean, there’s just a mess of shit that BHC could have handed her.”
“Not to mention what they might have told her about all of that. Jeremy could have spun a web of lies to make it look even worse — the ultimate duplicity. As though it was a concerted effort to seduce her and…” I trail off, unable to finish the sentence, the words too horrible to say aloud. But I know in my gut, I’m right. If BHC could think of a way to up the ante, then they’d do it.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Jude says, and his fist slams into the wall, rattling the art hanging over the sofa.
Gunner’s in a state of shock. He looks from me to Trigg and back to me. “What are you saying? That she thinks we planned to hurt her? She knows me. She knows us. There’s no way she’d think that.”
“We can’t be sure what she’s thinking,” Trigg says quietly. “We don’t know what BHC had in that folder. But… the fact that she isn’t here right now says a lot.”
Jude’s fist collides with the wall again, punching through drywall and splitting his knuckles this time. He turns and points at me. “You and Jax need to figure out how to clear this shit up right fucking now.”
“What?” My mouth hangs open as I stare at him in surprise. “This isn’t all on me — or Jax. Yes, I should have told Emma about working on the program. That is one-hundred percent my fuck up. But you were there, too. And we’ve all hung around Jeremy. None of us knew about Emma’s history with him then, but every one of us is guilty of associating with that asshole. You can’t put this all on me and your brother.”
His voice raises as he shoves his finger in the air toward my face. “Hey, I didn’t work side-by-side with that asshole for months.”
Even Trigg’s temper is spiraling up now as he steps away from the wall and strides into the room. “You’re not fucking innocent, Jude. Weren’t you the one who insisted on putting that trace on her bank account, the alert to let us know when her balance gets low? I remember the rest of us thi
nking that was a bad fucking idea, meddling in her affairs.”
“Yeah, and I’ve said over and over that I didn’t want to go on those stupid fucking trips, spending the weekend kissing corporate ass on Jeremy’s stupid fucking yacht,” Gunner shouts.
Jude spins, stepping into Gunner’s space. “Are you saying this is my goddamn fault?”
“I’m saying,” Gunner hisses through clenched teeth, “that I told you I hated that motherfucker and all those other fake assholes at those events.” He inches forward until he’s nearly chest to chest with Jude. “But you kept insisting I go. And now look what’s happened!”
“Fuck you, asshole,” Jude snarls, spittle flying. “I was making business decisions based on what was best for Pentabyte, and I sent you because you’re the fucking head of marketing. Networking is part of your goddamn job, so don’t fucking start crying about it now.”
I fold in on myself as those two go at it, my nerves so frayed that the room is starting to spin. Neither of them are going to back down — not this time — and anyone who tries to get in between them is going to get the first punch. On the other side of them, I see Trigg turn and disappear down the hall, his face drained of color, his expression hollow. I don’t want to be here anymore, either. All I can think about is the look of shock that must have been on Emma’s face — and the heartbreak she must be feeling right now, especially if BHC twisted the facts and sold it as a betrayal.
Hell, let them get into a fistfight, I don’t care. I grab my coat and head for the door. Jax should be grateful he’s still in lockup right now, because this night has turned into an absolute shit show.
I yank open the apartment door as raised voices continue in the living room. “Enjoy your fucking fight, gentlemen,” I yell, slamming the door behind me.
11
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