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“Bridger will do exactly as he’s supposed to do, I promise you that,” she stated calmly. “I know these men, Mr. Crossfield. They are exactly what I need. Acquire them quickly. Once the AI is fully powered, everything will need to be in place. If it isn’t, it will be your life on the line. Are we clear about that?”
He wiped his hand down his face and stared at the bar, wishing there was some way to kill the bastard and get away with it.
“We’re clear,” he agreed.
He had no other choice.
“Very well. Contact me once things are ready to proceed,” he was told before the call abruptly ended.
If he had his way, he’d just kill Bridger and be done with it. The man wasn’t dependable, no matter his employer’s opinion.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“I’ll pick you up after work today,” Jack said as Poppy put her cup in the coffee maker the next morning and popped a pod in the chamber for her second cup of coffee.
“I’m not going in this morning,” she told him, glancing over her shoulder. “I decided to work from home today so I can get some peace and quiet.”
Some privacy, she hoped.
“Do that often?” he asked, his tone sounding just a little suspicious.
She laughed as she turned back to him. “Whenever I feel like it, I do. Even Caine and River don’t question me over it.”
The man was more suspicious than even her brothers.
“Sorry.” His lips quirked just the slightest.
“You said there was no other danger, right?” she asked.
“I took care of it.” He gave a firm nod. “If you’re not working, I’ll come straight here, then. I’d like to take you out to dinner tonight.”
Dinner?
“Sounds good,” she said, nodding. “The bar?”
“A nice place,” he growled. “Dress pretty. I have things to do this morning, but I’ll see you about five,” he promised, striding to her and dropping a quick kiss on her lips. “Be good, baby.”
Be good?
She watched him leave the house, frowning. She couldn’t help the feeling that there was something going on. Or was it just her imagination?
Suspecting him because she was beginning to suspect others in her life?
Breathing out at the thought, Poppy turned to the window and watched Jack stride across the yard, out the back gate, and to the motorcycles, where the others were gathering.
She’d wanted to ask where he was going, what he was doing, but something stopped her. Just as something had stopped her when she was going to ask a week ago, about the drifter that attacked her nine years ago.
She was having trouble asking him the hard questions, and she was going to have to do something about that. The hard questions were the ones she needed to ask him.
Just like she needed to ask what the hell was going on at the office, she thought with a heavy sigh.
Collecting her cup of coffee, she returned to the living room and picked up her briefcase before moving to the kitchen island. She pulled the stack of files she’d placed inside the briefcase the day before and sat down at the table.
Her job was to inspect and manage all commercial and residential properties of Crossfield-Dawson. She was supposed to be part of any contracts negotiated and/or signed. But there were three units that were unlisted on the property database, the signature on the files unintelligible, that she’d found buried in a box of property tax notices, inspection forms, and aerial photos that had been mistakenly placed in her office, rather than in River’s or Caine’s.
There had been a file for three units about ten miles from town. According to the aerial photographs, it was in a small valley, three miles from the main road, and heavily secured.
So heavily secured that even from the photo she could pinpoint the secured gate, ten feet tall from the appearance of it, with a security box next to it. A very secure security box; that was no simple lock attached to the posts.
