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That’s all he says.
“Stop.”
It’s only enough for Epsilon to shift their gazes off me, but the heat and ridicule still exists.
I’m used to it, but not exactly in this setting. Not with Lo and Connor and their lawyers present. Not as the focal point of the day.
“Take your shirt off,” someone tells me.
Think it’s Price. Can’t be sure. My head is whirling.
Akara nods to me.
I peel my shirt off over my head. Chest bare, I have Thatcher and Bruno (Lo’s 24/7 Alpha bodyguard) taping a wire to my skin. The high-tech gadget has no bulky battery pack. Just the thin wire and a tiny mic.
My muscles burn. I stand so still and try not to breathe too heavy.
Gazes bore into me and trail over my scattered tattoos and my nipple piercings. If Connor and Lo weren’t here, I have no doubt SFE would’ve already said something about ‘em.
“You’ll wear your normal radio, but your comms mic will be off,” Thatcher says. “Your earpiece is connected to this other mic and recorder.”
The one taped to me.
Got it.
My bodyguard radio is basically a dummy. Unusable. There for show.
Thatcher continues, “You’ll be on a designated frequency for this op, and the mic is going to be hot. We’ll be able to hear everything, but he won’t know that.”
I force myself to focus and not go into a daze.
Akara is close to me as he says, “If your dad asks, you’ll tell him the earpiece is just comms for your client. No one can hear you unless you click the mic.”
I nod, understanding.
I’m supposed to rat out my dad. They want me to catch him or a cousin or someone spilling their foul deeds so it’s recorded and admissible in court.
Only problem, I can’t see them confessing anything to me. Not unless they strip me down and hose me off like Colin did. But Akara is right, this lunch could be a stepping-stone, a building block, a path towardstrust.It’s gonna have to be.
Because this set-up might be the only shot I have.
Once the wire is attached, I tug my shirt back over my head.
“Let’s clear the room,” Connor says to someone. “I only want Price, Akara, and our bodyguards present. The rest can wait in the library.”
“Uh-uh, you’re not going anywhere,” Lo says to another person, and it takes me a second to find him in the crowd. He’s speaking to Farrow. “You. Stay.”
Everyone begins to filter out of the office, but Connor also calls out, “Thatcher.” He motions the unshaven, stoic bodyguard to return to the room, and the door shuts.
It’s clear they called back their sons-in-law.
They’ve got special privileges, and Triple Shield is not gonna love that. But I’m not penciling incaring about their feelingsin my daily planner.
Right now, the room has quieted. Tension still stretches in the air. I don’t know what’s next.
“Take a seat, Donnelly,” Connor says. A chair is already waiting for me. I didn’t see him pull it over.
This is my first time in his personal office.
