Page 70 of Stolen By the Billionaire
That was too easy.
He rose to crouch and then stalked to the door of his bedroom, down the hall, and to the second guest bedroom in the other corner of the house. He ducked, flattening himself against the floor, to peer around the door jamb.
The targets had left the slider half-open in their frantic dash to escape.
After allowing time to survey the room, straining to listen to the absolute silence that was the absence of breath or heartbeats, Blaze ran in a crouch to the slider, closed and locked it, and then checked the closet for intruders.
No. Alone.
Good.
His next location was his office.
Maybe the professionals had sent the fuck-ups to egress the back door as a distraction for the professional team’s attack elsewhere. He needed to see.
Once inside his dark office with the door closed, he stood and jiggled the mouse to wake up his computer, which had backup battery power that lasted for a few hours.
The wraparound monitor showed twelve views from the security cameras inside his house.
Good. The jackasses hadn’t taken down the surveillance system when they’d interrupted the electronic locks.
The long entertaining room was still and dark with no creeping shadows.
As were the hallways.
And the bedrooms.
Every room was motionless except for Sarah pacing in the gym and the back of his own head in his office.
And the high-backed chair and silk ropes neatly coiled on the other side of the desk.
Good, but it wasn’t proof that there were no other intruders. If he had infiltrated the residence of a known special forces operator, he’d distract them by sending a crew out of the house, and then he’d lie in wait for when the operator stood down their readiness.
Blaze switched the view to the house's exterior from twelve more cameras bolted under the eaves of his roof.
In one box, the two targets he hadn’t shot in the legs were supporting the two wounded ones as they limped down the slope of his front yard to a van waiting on the street.
None of the other views showed any movement beyond windswept landscaping.
The four targets toppled into the van through the open sliding door, which slammed shut, and the van drove away down the nighttime street.
Blaze shook his head. Their vehicle had been parked directly outside his house on the street under the sodium blaze of the streetlamp.
At least the two uninjured targets hadn’t left their buddies behind. Blaze would have considered tapping them if they’d been cowards like that.
As it was, he just wanted those jackasses off his property.
He checked his phone.
Rogue Emergency had sent a message five minutes before: Seven minutes out.
Blaze texted back. Targets neutralized and in retreat. Take up positions and send CO to front door.
A text came back. Resources required?
We require engineering support. Power and electronic security to the house were cut. Surveillance is unaffected.
Engineering en route. Do you need cleanup crew?
