Page 77 of Stolen By the Billionaire
“It’s been fortified.” He tilted his head toward the transparent foyer walls and front door. “Try to put your fist through that glass. I dare you.”
“And yet, they were inside.”
Blaze’s gut tightened. His house should have been secure. He had defended her properly. “I shot two of them in the leg to make my point.”
“You didn’t fire a warning shot?”
Blaze stared at Savoie. “That was a warning shot. It warned them that my next shot would be center-mass.”
“Why’d you miss the head shot?” Savoie asked.
Blaze shrugged. He’d hit what he’d aimed for. “Local cops aren’t understanding. Bodies are too much paperwork.”
“Yeah, okay. You should take care of that two-second window.”
Blaze sighed. “It’s local building code to ensure utility line workers don’t get fried while restoring power during an outage.”
Aaron Savoie shrugged. “Why’d that stop you?”
Because Blaze did not want more innocent souls on his conscience. “Because they prosecute that as murder around here, no matter who you are.”
The last person to enter the house was Nazariy Borosov, the hacker, who paced inside with his head canted forward. His hacker-cliché black hoodie sweatshirt obscured his face, and his hands were shoved deep into the sweatshirt’s front pocket. He muttered, “Surveillance computer?”
“My office,” Blaze told him.
“Downstairs?”
“Yeah, but wait. I’ll take you down and show you where it is.”
His voice barely escaped his hood. “I’ll manage.”
“Wait, Naz. I’ll show you where it is.”
“Name!”
“Yeah, sorry.”
One did not speak of hackers’ true names.
Naz asked, “Do you have smart devices? Alexa or Nest?”
“Oh hell, no.”
He nodded and turned away. “Right answer.”
Blaze shoved the door closed. “Hey, the electricity isn’t even on yet. It’s dark down there.”
Which was the cue for the exterior lights to flare to life and random lamps in the house to turn themselves on.
Damn, Rogue Sec’s engineers were efficient.
Aaron Savoie yelled out, “Power’s on!”
Naz continued away from the front door.
Blaze called after him, “The stairs are to the left, but wait a sec.”
Nazariy Borysov trotted down the stairs, his black running shoes pattering on the dark wood stairs.
