Swallowing her chuckle-snort, she nodded in agreement.
Flinging an arm around Rebecca’s shoulders,Domineau stared down the crusty pre-teen and snidely asked, “Is that a new iPhone I see clutched in your hand, missy?”
Stephanie smiled. So did Heather. Remy’s eyes narrowed. What was she missing?
“My name is Kori. Not Missy.” The kid’s outraged sniff was supposed to put Domineau in her place.
Rebecca groaned. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
Domineau ignored the cringing mother and plowed right over Kori Tate with real skill.
“Your fucking name is Mud, you little shit, and if I was you, I’d be watching my mouth.”
When the stupid teen opened her mouth to respond, Domineau flicked her out of the air like a bug.
“No one gives a shit about your opinion, little girl, so zip it and sit down. Now!”
Remy winced. Good lord! If either of her parents ever used that tone, she’d be begging for forgiveness while crying like a baby. What the hell was wrong with this kid?
“You owe your mother an apology.” Domineau’s face told Kori she meant business.
“I didn’t do anything,” the kid mumbled.
“What’s in your hand?” Domineau hollered.
Kori held up the phone and shrugged. “It’s a phone. So what?”
“You ungrateful little shit. Do you have any idea how much one of those phones cost? Or how expensive the monthly service contract is? Stop acting like a spoiled brat. Apologize to your mother for being a rude twit. If you don’t, you can sleep in the fucking car, and your mom can have the bedroom to herself.”
The angry stand-off that followed quickly deteriorated to a shouting match.
Domineau wasn’t here for this girl’s shit.
Rebecca Tate tried to make peace.
Kori didn’t know when to quit.
Heather and Stephanie tut-tutted and shook their heads.
She glanced at Finn and mouthed, “What should I do?”
He shrugged.
Pywakett appeared. Remy liked the black cat. She had an attitude.
A strange vibe fell over the room when the cat pranced between everyone and sat right in front of Kori. Her tail twitched. She made a feral noise that made Domineau mutter, “Oh, great.”
“You have a cat?” Kori sounded astonished—as though a house pet was illegal.
Every adult in the room jolted and rushed toward Kori when she bent and scooped the cat into her arms. Pywakett was notoriously standoffish and anti-social.
When the dragon-cat didn’t react by scratching the kid’s face to shreds, Domineau spread her arms to hold everyone back. “Hang on.”
Within a minute of the unfolding love fest, Pywakett was purring like mad and sitting on Kori’s shoulder.
Finn chimed in as if none of the last half hour had happened. “Does anyone want chicken tenders? I brought a pan straight from Pete’s kitchen.”
He whipped the lid off a metal pan and pointed. “Bella’s suggestion,” he said with a nod to Heather. “Instead of regular old breading, we made a blend of Cap’n Crunch, Cheerios, and some Panko. Have some killer dipping sauces too,” he explained with a flourishing hand wave.
An unexpected cat and some chicken tenders saved the day from ruin. Kori jumped up, with the cat in her arms, and rushed to the table.
Domineau wasn’t going to let what happened earlier pass. Remy saluted her for not rolling over in the interest of peace.
“Apologize to your mother.”
This time, the damn kid didn’t hesitate. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
Proving the point that sometimes all it took was manners, everything was fine after that. They all munched on the finger food, and the disturbance with Kori was forgotten. Mostly.
Remy had to quickly guzzle water when a hefty bite dripping with Barry’s special diablo sauce left her gasping. Finn’s amused chuckle and hefty back thump earned him a punch in the arm.
“So Becca,” Stephanie sweetly said. “We have an early start on Monday. Have to be in Lonepoke by lunchtime to meet with Dr. Hunter.” She turned her attention to Kori. “Are you okay with getting yourself to school?”
Wiping her mouth on a napkin, Domineau said, “No problem. I’ll take her to the bus stop.”
“Who’s Dr. Hunter?” Kori asked.
“He’s a veterinarian,” Stephanie explained.
“What do you need a vet for?”
Remy wanted to laugh when Becca sighed the way all mothers sometimes do.
“Mrs. Dane runs a stable, sweetheart. Remember? I’m her assistant.”
“Wait,” Kori mumbled. She checked Stephanie out from head to toe. Today she looked more like Eliza Doolittle at the races than someone working with horses. “You run a stable?”
Finn quietly snickered. He knew what it was like to underestimate a Dane.
“Shugah,” Stephanie twanged, “not only do I run a stable, I’ve got a drawer full of rodeo buckles. Don’t judge a beauty queen by her outfit,” she informed all those present with one superbly arched brow.
“Your mother’s military experience is worth its weight in tacos,” she continued. “I’m sure she’ll teach me a lot.”
Kori’s eyes swung back and forth between her smiling mom and a confident-sounding Stephanie.
“My dad hates the military,” the kid mumbled.
Domineau snorted first. “Yeah? Well, guess what? Your dad’s a pussy. Around here, being a pussy about the military isn’t going to win friends.” She eyed the teen critically. “I served in the war and so did Remington. I have an idea. How about you bring your dad around, and we’ll show him what real badass looks like—female style?”
Kori’s eyes lit up. Ah. Remy finally got it. At least, she thought she did. Having a military mom was an outsider thing. Especially since her father was a dick. Seeing two female warriors in the flesh made her mom less of a freak.
“Did you kill anybody?” Kori wanted to know.
Becca started. “Kori! Don’t ask that. What did I tell you?”
“What?” she whined. “It’s just a question.”
“I have a body count,” Domineau sneered. “What do you wanna know?”
The kid shut up damn quick. The way Domineau asked the question did not invite a response.
A while later, she helped Finn finish installing a pretty cool closet organization system that Lacey had delivered. Domineau’s house was a rental, so they couldn’t do built-ins, but Becca and her kid needed more than a real bed and a place to shower.
“Wherever we end up,” he told her, “every closet has to have one of these systems!”
Gathering the equipment he used, Finn hurriedly glanced around and then motioned to Domineau’s toolbox. “She’d kill me for pointing this out, but pink? Seriously?”
Domineau’s rolling toolbox and extensive array of fix-it paraphernalia was pink. She wasn’t, however, surprised. Of all the quirks and secret habits Remy personally uncovered about Domineau, the one that stuck out was the woman’s fierce femininity—a trait she realized everyone else overlooked or didn’t see.
“Check this out,” she murmured quietly. “Who else but Domineau would have a revolver shaped rechargeable screwdriver?” She picked up the unconventional tool. “Look! It even has a bunch of drill bits.”
Finn took it from her and pointed. “Hands up, lady. You’re about to be screwed.”
They erupted with laughter. She enjoyed being able, at long last, to simply enjoy Finn. He was clever and, to borrow one of his Boston expressions, wicked funny.
Heather and Becca dragged a couple of suitcases into the room. Each bag looked like it had seen better days.
The bedroom wasn’t small, but it also wasn’t huge. To maximize the space, Draegyn, who knew about these things, suggested an adult bunk bed. His idea was brilliant. Requiring only the footprint of a full bed, the two-story structure made a lot of sense and left enough room for a desk and a massive chest of drawers tha
t someone trash picked and then refinished.
Kori was hovering in the hallway. After the kid’s initial belligerence, Remy looked closer. She might act all tough and snarly, but the girl was covering for a lot. Her eyes told a sad story that pissed Remy off. Maybe being around Domineau and the rest of the no-nonsense ladies’ brigade of Family Justice would help her see her mom in a new light.
She also knew her and Domineau would be having a serious talk about Becca’s ex-husband. Somebody needed to teach that asshole a lesson. What he did in regards to his marriage was one thing, but ditching his kid while his wife was on a deployment? Nah. A bridge too far.
“Bathroom in the hallway is all yours. Towels and stuff are in the hall closet. House rules,” Domineau barked. “No eating in the bedroom. Don’t mess with the security system, and unless you want to die a terrible death, stay the fuck out of the garage.”
Becca chuckled and then hastily coughed. She tried to side hug her kid, but Kori wasn’t having it.
Stephanie squeezed into the room carrying a humongous gift basket wrapped in colorful organza and tied with a ridiculous bow. She handed it to Kori.
“Everything two gals need to reset! There’s shampoo and face wash. Most of it’s organic. New toothbrushes, oh, and face masks. I love a good face mask, don’t you?”
The kid looked emotional. “Why are all of you being so nice?”
“Sweetie,” Stephanie said in a voice that lost all of her usual softness and twang. “We’ve all been kicked in the head. Everyone in this room has a story and a lot of the tale isn’t pretty. Why wouldn’t we want to help? Your mom’s not a criminal. She didn’t bring this situation on. Stop being such a downer. You’ll find things get better and go smoother once you two start operating as a team.”
“Word,” muttered Finn.
“Please understand,” Becca told them, “Kourtney’s had a tough time. She’s been through things most eleven and twelve-year-olds can’t imagine.”
“Excuse me?” Domineau snarled.
Finn stopped Remy from holding the stupid kid down while Domineau stomped on her face. Jesus. Becca was barking up a treacherous tree. Lacey and Domineau were the damn poster gals for fucked-up childhoods.
Heather reacted with a swiftness that took the angry air out of the situation. “I’m prescribing Meghan’s yoga workshop at the Double M. You two need to figure your stuff out if you want this to work.”
And with that, she was done. Caput. Finished. Remy looked at Finn. He shook his head and quickly rolled his eyes.
Remy enjoyed her man’s no-nonsense tone when he began their exit. “Listen guys, we have to roll. Domineau, give me a call, and I’ll walk you through the pros and cons of a Sub-Zero refrigerator. Before you drop any cash, there are some things to consider.”
Becca nudged Kori who mumbled, “Thanks, Mr. O’Brien.”
He offered a smile of encouragement, shook Becca’s hand, and then they bolted. In his truck and halfway to his apartment, he looked at her and said, “Will you marry me?”
She started to laugh.
And then she laughed harder—rocking back and forth in her seat.
It was clear he wasn’t completely serious by the dumb grin on his face.
“Finn, for god’s sake! What’s wrong with you?”
“Just don’t want you getting sidelined by other people’s problems.”
She thought she knew what he was getting at. “Oh, don’t worry. All marriages are not created equal. Becca Tate got a raw deal, and yeah, I feel bad for her. But her shitty situation doesn’t wipe out the fact that my parents have a strong relationship. I’m not afraid of marriage. But I’m not going to be rushed.”
“That’s all I need to hear.” He chuckled.
“Sir, we have a problem.”
Alex looked up from the report he was going over. He took off his reading glasses and peered across the room. Wearing a concerned expression and standing at attention, one of Duke’s security guys stood in the doorway of Jace’s office.
“Which sir are you referring to?” Jace asked.
“Sorry, sir,” the flummoxed agent said to Jace. “I was addressing Major Marquez.”
With a heavy sigh, Alex closed the report folder and sat back. Now what?
“Well, come in,” he snapped. “What have you got for me?” His hand shot out, and he snapped his fingers to signal his impatience.
“Chief left instructions that you were to be informed if the system burped up anything outside the box.” He handed Alex a flash drive. “As instructed, Major. Raw data.”
The guys stood at ease and waited. Alex frowned. Fuck.
Motioning to Jace for the laptop, Alex inserted the drive and brought up the data. He’d have to be blind not to immediately pick up on the burp. A series of dots, dashes, and numbers appeared in the drops between programs. His eyes narrowed. What did this mean?
Comparing different data points, he was able to ascertain that the sequence of dashes was identical. The dots reduced by one in each pass, and the numbers seemed familiar somehow.
“Sir,” the agent said as his voice dropped in volume. “There’s more. Open the second folder.”
Jace moved to Alex’s side and focused on the laptop screen. Whatever was in folder number two wasn’t going to be funny memes or dirty pictures.
Clicking on the folder, he scanned the contents and reacted with an angry grunt. “What the fuck?”
“Aw, Jesus,” Jace growled. “Open that one,” he demanded with a finger poke that nearly cracked the screen.
Alex exploded the second he and Jace got a look at the file’s contents. “Get Finn on the goddamn phone!”
“On it,” Jace muttered as he picked up the desk phone.
He closed the file and clicked on another. Holy fucking shit. Grabbing his phone, he opened a new message and told Ben what to do. Thank god there was a procedure in place that wouldn’t require explaining.
Jace yelled something into the phone, but Alex was too angry for the words to register. Then he hung up and looked at him. “He’s on his way.”
“Cam, Sinjin, Parker. Get them all here. And fast. I’ll deal with the others later.”
Barking at the tense agent, Alex laid it out in easy to understand terms. “I want the compound on lockdown until further notice. Nobody in or out without a full screen. Every vehicle coming and going gets swiped. Inside and out. Am I clear about this?”
“Yes, sir.”
To Jace, he scowled, “How do you want to proceed? I need Finn.”
“I’ll get Remy and have her go home for now. Finn can decide after that.”
There was a brief pause and then Jace morphed into a very angry man. “Aw, fuck. Sophia.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll put my dad on it.”
He got up and shook himself. A fast decision was made, and he barked some orders. “Ratchet the coverage to obvious. I don’t care how many people it takes. Make it abundantly clear that there’s surveillance.”
And then he left. Actually, he didn’t leave so much as storm out.
He was halfway to the Villa when something that had been broiling in his gut for a while fell into place. An explainable place.
All of this shit was one false flag after another. The initial algorithm that earned his attention. The bullshit in Europe that burned through resources and turned up nothing. The drone. A suspicious acting reporter.
And now this.
Someone wanted him to know he was being fucked with. Whoever was behind this found a way into his system—but not his head. What was the point?
Tick. Tick. Tick. The swirling images and data stacks moving in his head started falling into order—a pattern. His feet stopped on a hair, and he wobbled a bit before finding some balance.
What was the significance of the pattern?
His eyes narrowed, and he looked around, but his vision was limited to the matter confronting him.
Think, man, think.
He had an on-going system
attack. But internal data wasn’t the focus. Hmph. No internal data was in jeopardy. So what did that mean? The system intrusion wasn’t about farming. If it wasn’t taking—what the fuck was the point? To what end? There was something there, but he couldn’t nail it down.
After the Angie wild goose chase, Cam suggested perhaps the initial salvo had been designed to deflect. Or even possibly give a step-by-step behind the scenes look at how they react to attack. Or the most plausible explanation – a distraction.
Sure, okay. He saw where that was a possibility but kept coming back to point A. Distract from what?
Zeus came tearing toward him at supersonic speed. The black Lab skidded to a halt at his feet. There was no tail wagging—no happy to see you excitement. She was in business mode.
Five seconds later, Ben appeared up ahead on the path. His pace was brisk, and he wore a no-nonsense frown.
Only slowing his roll at the last moment, Ben walked right up to him and handed off a pen and pad of paper.
Whatever the fuck this situation was, it had technology roots. The best way to circumvent what that means was to go old school.
Ben nodded and gave the dog a head pat. Then he scribbled on his own pad.
What’s happening?
Alex pressed his lips together and snarled. Zeus moved closer. His goofy sidekick had another side. A side that would end with her ripping off someone’s leg if he was physically threatened in any way.
He scrawled a reply. Surveillance. Family. Images.
The deep scowl that appeared on the man’s face didn’t surprise Alex. He counted on Ben to keep his world from spinning out of control. Anybody who didn’t understand Ben’s position in the family wasn’t paying attention. He was the Alfred to Alex’s Bruce Wayne. He was the practical version of James Bond’s Quartermaster. He was the sober police who took their keys so there’d be no drunk driving. Ben, along with his wife, Ria, was the internal engine that kept everything running.
His loyalty was unimpeachable, and what people didn’t know about his major-domo was that he was so much more than just a manager. They sometimes joked that his job description was that of a seneschal—a steward with full charge. The fancy word implied much but overlooked one important thing. Ben had, in his early days, been FBI. He worked in the profiling division long before terrorism was the national obsession. In other words, he was the best coalmine canary imaginable. Ben could spot a problem before it started.
Enduring (Family Justice Book 8) Page 43