“Find the signature so they can take him,” Harrison says, his voice still ringing with thatpowerhe has.
“Yes, boss,” I mutter and get back to work.
It takes me twenty more minutes, and as far as I’m concerned, no one speaks in all that time. I sure as shit don’t register a word, especially when I finally find it.
Hidden like a straw of hay in a haystack—don’t ever get me started on the needle thing—the signature is infuriating: tgr81gotcha
The great one gotcha?
That’s . . . taunting.
But I make a mental note of it, not needing anything else to remember it, and finally look up.
“You can take him now. I’ve got them.”
The agent mutters something then finally rips the tape off Brent’s mouth and pulls him up to stand. He shouts in outrage and pain, and the way Harrison stares at me tells me that one thing I probably missed is him reminding Brent of the consequences of blabbing about the Turris.
“Now that he’s gone,” Harrison says, voice calm. He spends one second looking into each person’s eyes before they finally land on me. “I need you to make sure no one can ever find out about who was here before.”
Yeah, the implications would be insane.
“Got it.” I give him a sharp nod and start the process of hacking into the signal of the closest cell tower. The easiest way to find GPS signals that were recorded here tonight is to look at the phones, so I get right on that while Harrison keeps talking.
“I don’t feel, at this moment, that explaining everything will help, and I trust you three to not question me right now.”
So Iris knows everything Harrisonisn’tsaying, that’s interesting.
I keep my eyes on my tablet.
“And the official report will give out false details of course. The FBI will get full credit for this. None of us did anything, understood?”
Everyone murmurs their agreement quickly. None of us want to be connected tothistype of news.
“I’m sorry for all the extra work, Eli, but I think that’s all we can do for tonight, right?”
“I can keep working from home, and I wouldn’t mind not spending another second in this place.” Besides, it’s getting late and Lex’s game is starting soon on the West Coast. Even if his team isn’t the best,heis, and in order for him to believe me whenever I tell him this, I need to be able to back my statement up with facts, and that requires actually watching his games.
“Yeah, same, but how the hell are we going to leave this place if it’s surrounded by the press?” Tucker asks, his frat-boy look, tone, and confused frown belied by how smart and pertinent the question is.
“Let me call agent Dillon,” Harrison mutters and once more puts his phone to his ear.
It takes forty uncomfortable minutes until Dillon and the secret service agent assure us no one is around and we can all scatter.
I keep working on my tablet while Dad steers me along the sidewalk to the nondescript car we only ever use for Turris shit.When we walk into the brownstone ten minutes later, I smile to myself because my workflow doesn’t stop.
Dad maneuvers me around the kitchen until I’m seated at the big island, and a few minutes later, he takes my wrist and moves it until my hand makes contact with a big cup. I grip it on instinct, bringing it up to my mouth, and realize belatedly it has a straw.
Then I feel Lyla’s energy in the room.
“Hey, Lyla,” I mutter, eyes still on the screen and my fingers flying over it. I’m putting together a dossier for the freaking FBI, and it’s fun, not gonna lie—okay, it’s only fun because I’m very pointedly not thinking about the reason behind all this work.
I’m aware of Dad and my stepmom moving around, murmuring softly, the low sounds of a TV coming to life... I recognize they put Lex’s game on, and I let my subconscious listen to it, knowing I’ll probably see the replay when I’m done with all of this.
My insides go all warm and fuzzy.
I’ve never lacked love in my life, not with Dad’s unforgiving way of showing it, but it’s still special to feel it this keenly.
The kind of acceptance I get from them can only exist with boundless love, the way they take care of me, the way they understand how I work and never begrudge me for it. They make space for every single weird quirk I have—and there are a lot of them to go around.
