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Sometimes Axel’s persistent nitpicking was a pain in the ass, but now Morgan would have welcomed it because he wanted to get the bastard or bastards who had set up the ambush. It was typical of Axel that he’d chosen that time to stay away.
“About time,” Morgan said by way of greeting.
“I’ve been busy, running down details and setting things up.”
“What things? What details?”
“That’s what I’m here to tell you,” Axel snapped as he dropped into the visitor’s chair.
Being snapped at was good; if Axel had tried to be kind—with emphasis on the word “tried,” because he’d never really succeed—Morgan would have suspected he wasn’t recovering as well as a few steps and mashed potatoes would indicate.
“So, talk.”
“You were located by your boat registration. We’ve found where someone hacked into state records and got your i
nfo off your registration form.”
There was something wrong with that. Morgan said, “I use my post office box as my mailing address.”
“Yes, but the form also includes your Virginia driver’s license number and your social security number. Those were both traced, and that’s how they got your address.”
“The big question is why.”
“Yeah. But there’s another wrinkle, one that’s even more serious.”
It was almost amusing that Axel would think something was more serious than one of his operatives being targeted. Well, given that he dealt with global issues, he was probably right; Morgan had to give him that.
“When you were first brought in, we didn’t know what was going on, if an orchestrated attack was being made on GO-Team members or if another attempt would be made on you personally. I loaded up the hospital with men to guard your ass, but the logistics were a nightmare, too many stairwells and elevators, too many people coming and going. As soon as you were halfway stable, I had you loaded up and brought here. I’m the only one who knows where you are.”
“Other than the people who transported me here.”
“I changed transport teams three times.”
Yeah, that was Axel, paranoid and cautious to a maddening degree. “So what’s this new wrinkle that has you worried?”
“The GO-Team files were hacked after I had you moved.”
Shit. Morgan frowned, working it through. Obviously, whoever had tried to kill him was still after him. Just as obviously, whoever it was knew what he did.
“It’s the security breach that worries me more than anything,” Axel said, and Morgan stifled a wry smile. Yeah, the loss of one of his men would definitely rank below security in his book. “After I had you moved, I let it be known that you had some memory problems but were recovering, and the doctors saw no reason why you wouldn’t regain all your memories.”
That was cold, even for Axel. Morgan growled, “Well, hell, why not just paint a target on my back?”
“The target’s already there,” Axel pointed out. “My job is to find out who and why. Unless you’re fucking someone else’s wife, the strong possibility exists that this is work related.”
“I’m clear on the domestic front.”
“Then it’s related to the GO-Teams.”
There was no arguing with that. Still—Morgan shook his head. “But why?”
“If I can figure that out, then I’ll know who. And vice versa. All I need is something to point me in the right direction.”
“So what’s your plan?” Because Axel always had a plan; Morgan might not like it, but he had no doubt the plan existed.
Axel said, “I’m going to bury your location under enough security that whoever wants to find you will really have to dig to find it, and that’ll trip an alert I’ve had set up. But I can’t make it easy to find, or whoever it is will know it’s a set-up and won’t bite.”
“That’s it? What do I do in the meantime?” Other than work at being able to walk for longer than thirty seconds at a time, that is.
