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The line goes dead. Then the lights flicker. My screens stay active thanks to them being on backup generators along with key areas of the house—you can never be too safe—so none of my security systems fail and my decoding program continues on.
“Shit,” I mutter, needing to get back to the main house but determined to set a trap online to discover who’s targeting me.
Sitting back in my chair, I let the feelers I programmed do their thing and scour the dark net. If there’s a hit out on me or any member of my former team I’ll find it.
Something still isn’t sitting right though. Why would someone send Katrina?
No matter how hard the world had knocked her down, I knew she wasn’t a killer. The woman I remember has a heart of gold and got queasy at the sight of gore. It wasn’t possible she was sent here to take me out.
And if that was the mission, didn’t they understand that she would recognize me? Pulling the trigger wouldn’t be easy—not with our history.
Then why?
I jerk back in my chair as a call comes through my private line. The back of my neck tingles in anticipation when I see it’s not Conner calling me back. It’s Cohen. While I was a man of few words, Cohen was a man very comfortable with silence. He didn’t speak unless necessary.
So for him to be calling and not texting…
He gets right to the point.
“Your last mission, the data extraction and rescue. Was there any way to trace that back to the team?”
His curt tone demands an immediate answer.
“No. We were in and out without any alarms. The only problem we had was with the princess. Had to convince her for longer than anticipated that we were the good guys.”
“And the commander who assigned that mission, did you know him well?”
“No, he was newly posted to Special Forces. Came highly decorated and gave us detailed intel.” I pause, confused by this line of questioning. “Why?”
“Just got offered a job by the same commander. My gut is telling me something is off.”
“Then don’t do it. I’ve never known your gut to be wrong.”
Cohen makes a soft sound, his only acknowledgment that he’s heard me.
“Look, I’m glad you called. Wanted to give you a heads-up that I’ve had a guest turn up on my property.”
“Wanted or unwanted guest?” he asks.
Good question. What was Katrina? She had been spooked by something—or someone—and had been visibly upset when she realized I was the one who saved her from the storm. She’d even warned me. Yet, she’d still been sent to spy on me and possibly retrieve an item.
“It’s complicated. But what it could mean is danger for you and Connor. There may be a hit out on me and the mountain may be compromised.”
“I’ll dig in to it too. Just be watchful and keep us updated if you need backup.”
“Will do.”
“Have you reached out to Connor?”
“Line’s down.”
A grunt of frustration sounds on the other end of the line. “Something doesn’t feel right.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” Running a hand down my face, I heave a frustrated exhale. A ping goes off and my eyes flick back to my screen. “Look, man, I’ve got to go. My search picked up a few things. Text you later if shit’s about to hit the fan.”
“Fine.” With that last word, he hangs up. I was lucky to even get a send-off like that.
Turning back to my main screen, I interlock my fingers and extend my arms in front of me, cracking my knuckles. It was time to get some answers.
Once I had those, I’d be able to solve the problem of Katrina.
