Sharp tears sting my eyes. I keep them closed.
They slide down my cheeks, warm and cooling too quickly.
I don’t know why this makes me so emotional, but my throat aches.
“You… you won’t need to, Dad. I’ll take care of this soon.”
“I’m holding you to it,” he warns.
The call ends.
I linger in my room, staring at the ceiling and replaying the conversation in my head, wondering what the hell you do with a father who wants to care, but doesn’t know how.
18
PRECIOUS FEW (HOLDEN)
The blue light from staring at my laptop burns my eyeballs as I plunge deeper in my search for the boot print.
Cleo snores next to me in bed, out like a light and still glowing so beautifully.
Unlike me, she doesn’t have a nightly war with insomnia.
Me, I can’t fucking sleep when there’s a problem I can solve.
I drag a hand down my tired face and sigh as a match appears that stops me cold.
Shit.
If what I’m seeing is real, it’s awful news.
The AI scan says the boot matches a Serbian-made tactical brand, highly popular with Russian-based mercenary groups worldwide. Difficult to trace where this specific boot came from, but if it’s hired guns from that part of the world…
Someone talked.
And that someone was Jasper fucking Fairfax.
Had to be.
If not the little imp himself, then part of his inner circle, the so-called experts. The people overseas he consulted to authenticate the Hera Egg.
And I’d better find our leaker fast before they regroup and come back with reinforcements.
I glance at Cleo, innocent and lost to the world. No need to risk waking her.
Carefully, I tuck my laptop under my arm and head downstairs.
The lamp almost blinds me for a second, and I blink in the murky orange light.
I set the laptop on the table and grab a burner phone from the locked drawer in my tiny home office. Kit doesn’t even know what I keep hidden around here, and neither does Clee.
The door stays locked for obvious reasons, hiding tools I hope I never have to use.
Tonight, I’m not so lucky.
International business in New York never sleeps, and that’s good news for my impatience. When I call Fairfax’s office, I’m not surprised there’s someone waiting to take a message.
But I’m not after leaving that fuck a message.
