Page 30 of Rogue Survivor
“Yeah. Black ops shit. Protecting the innocent, taking on cases the authorities can’t—or won’t. The man knows people all over the world. Including AJ Stone and his brother, Jasper. They were the ones who found me.”
“Found you?” I turn in his embrace. Lines of strain crinkle around his eyes, and a muscle in his jaw ticks.
“Long story. Or at least not one we have the time for right now. Bottom line? Austin’s the reason I’m alive. And some of the guys he works with saved my brother. He wouldn’t have hired Zephyr if she weren’t the best at what she does—and trustworthy as fuck.”
“Then call her,” I say. “I don’t know any of these people, but I trustyou. I’m not sure why, since I’ve known you all of two weeks, but I do.”
On screen,Zephyr runs her fingers through her teal hair. “Still working on the hospital’s firewalls, but Isabel’s home security system was a breeze to hack.”
“That’s not encouraging,” I mutter from a stool next to Connor. He’s leaning against his kitchen counter, the tablet propped up in front of us.
Zephyr cracks a smile. “There are only a couple of systems on the market today Ican’thack. If you want to upgrade, I can hook you up.”
“Assuming Veronica and I can ever go home again, I’ll take you up on that.”
The low rumble in Connor’s chest startles me. Did he just…growl?
“You’ll go home. These assholes won’t be breathing free air much longer. Or any air.” He grips the counter hard enough his knuckles turn white, and Zephyr rolls her eyes.
“You should come out to Boston one day, Connor. You’d fit right in. Overprotective, growly, handsome…”
“Who are you callin’ handsome, luv?” a man asks, his Irish accent unmistakable. “Don’t tell me I have competition.”
“Go to work, Ronan. I’m talking to Q’s brother.” Zephyr leans back on the couch, tips her head up, and waits for a lean, wiry man with dark hair to bend down and kiss her. “Pick up some milk on the way home? I’m going to burn through the rest of the carton with all the tea today requires.”
The man—Ronan—nods, then stares at Zephyr’s computer. “I see the resemblance. You and Q have the same eyes. You doin’ all right, Connor?”
“No. Not while Isabel’s daughter is in danger. Can we get back to business?” Connor’s frustration rolls off of him in waves, and I rub circles over his lower back until he blows out a breath. “Sorry, Ronan. Zephyr. It’s been a long twenty-four hours.”
“I work with the grumpiest arse on the planet,” Ronan says with a chuckle. “But give Zephyr some credit, mate. She knows her shit.”
A few seconds later, a door closes, and Zephyr takes a sip from the biggest mug I’ve ever seen. “Now that the testosterone fest is over, can we get back to business? Isabel’s security system hasn’t logged any events since she armed it early Wednesday morning. I also accessed her doorbell camera, and other than mail delivery, no one’s come up the walk.”
“What about traffic cameras?” Connor asks.
“There aren’t any close enough to Isabel’s house. Plus, even if there were…it’d take me at least two days to write a program that could analyze all the cars coming and going.”
“Zephyr…”
“It’s on the list. I only started working for Austin a month ago. Facial recognition? That’s a breeze. Runs off of Hidden Agenda’s servers in Seattle. But cross-referencing the make and model of thousands of cars over the last thirty-six hours? The code alone is challenging, but the amount of processing power it needs ishuge.Give us another few weeks and we’ll have it, but until then…not much I can do. Plus, the city needs to upgrade their cameras. Almost impossible to make out the plate numbers.”
“So, is it safe? Or…?” My stomach twists itself into a knot, and I’m about to tell Connor we should just stop at the nearest Clothes Mart and grab a few things for Veronica rather than risk it.
“From what I can see,” Zephyr says, “it’s safe. And you have an overprotective FBI agent there who looks like he’d burn down the world for you. So…”
“We’re going.” Connor tells Zephyr to call when she gets into the hospital network, tucks his tablet into a protective case, and disappears into his bedroom for long enough, I venture down the short hallway to find him.
He’s sitting on his bed, a pistol cradled in his hands, and a look of utter defeat in his eyes. I’m about to back away when he notices me and tucks the gun into a holster. “Sorry, darlin’. Been a while since I…”
Fear, regret, worry…so many emotions churn in his gaze, but he pushes to his feet, snaps the holster onto his belt, and pulls two extra magazines from a small safe hidden in the bottom of his nightstand.
“I’m not range certified anymore,” he says, slamming the safe door. “But I’m still a better shot than most.”
I stop him before he slings his duffel bag over his shoulder. “I trust you, Connor. Even if you don’t trust yourself.”
Chapter Twelve
Connor
