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Tom Borde backed toward the front door. “Let’s go, gentlemen.”
“You’re sure she wants me in there?” Trevor jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “I know she doesn’t think much of law enforcement.” And he couldn’t blame Wiz for that. She’d been treated poorly, and he didn’t want to make things worse.
Tom frowned. “Now that’s not true, Mr. Mills. Wiz is just wary of it, and justifiably so. Don’t cause problems and you won’t have any. Leave the pistols and threats holstered and you’ll be fine.” Tom smirked. “Probably.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s go.”
Michael motioned Trevor to go first. The back of his neck itching, he stepped through the door into a surprisingly tight space. Coats hung from the wall with boots below them, with a door blocking entry. Trapped, he spun, looking for the way out, his heart pounding.
Tom shook his head. “Keep your shoes on. The entryway is a security measure. The inner door won’t open until I close the exterior door.” He turned and shut and locked the door.
Trevor had been briefed about Wiz’s paranoia, but this seemed extreme for a civilian’s house. “Okay.” The door into the house opened, and he walked through. Breathing steadily, he slowed his heart rate. His boots clicked on the hardwood spanning the two-storied timber frame house. They stood in a huge open living room, with a massive rock fireplace in the middle, dividing two seating areas from a dining table and a kitchen with commercial appliances. To his right, expensive leather living room furniture created comfortable seating areas, and on his left, an enormous flat screen TV surrounded by several smaller screens was mounted on the front wall. Gaming chairs waited in front of a low table with a plethora of game controllers. He’d seen equally fancy houses, but they were usually owned by criminals. Wiz might skirt the law, but overall, she was a force for good. And after what she’d been through, she deserved safety and luxury.
Deb was settling Nic and Kim’s kids into the seats. A tray of snacks and drinks waited on the coffee table. She shot a smile at someone behind him, probably Michael or Nic, then returned her attention to the girls.
Sam sat at the head of the dining room table, so he walked toward her, Nic and Tom rushing past him. Trevor waited for Michael to sit, then sat next to him. While he’d love to sit next to Sam, he knew better. Besides, the open seats near the head of the table were clearly meant for Kim and Deb.
Nic leaned forward. “Kim and Deb will join after they get a movie going.”
“Deb’s giving them the headphones, right?” Wiz tapped her ear.
Nic nodded. “Yep. They don’t need to hear this.” He waved his hand palm up across the table in front of him.
Sam stood, her emerald green blouse and black pencil skirt perfect despite literally running for her life. “I’m calling this meeting of the Cupcake Woman Protection Society to order.”
Deb snort laughed behind him. “You’re kidding me, right?”
Trevor almost copied Deb’s snort. Despite her close escape, Sam lightened the mood. Add her intelligence and skills to her beauty and she was an unbeatable force.
Sam winked. “Nope. We had to call it something for the fundraiser. Something that wouldn’t get us sued for libel and catchy enough to get attention. But that’s not important. Getting shot at is important. Attacking people in the middle of Marcus is crazy. There are too many houses and people, even in the middle of the day.” She shuddered, seemingly lost for words.
Wiz spoke up, her deep brown eyes spearing him. “Mills, I’m almost glad you’re here because we can’t deal with that kind of collateral damage.”
Mills frowned at her. “None us can. But I’m not as helpful as you think. I’m not here officially. I’m on medical leave.” None of them had government security clearances, so he had to give them the official story. Wiz’s expression seemed skeptical; she wasn’t buying it, which wasn’t surprising.
Sam’s voice betrayed a tinge of concern. “For what?”
Mills waved her concern away. He certainly wasn’t sharing anything about his injuries, especially when they didn’t impact him anymore. It was a convenient reason, though. “Nothing critical. Don’t worry about it.”
Sam crossed her arms. “Whatever it is, it better not impact our safety.”
Or maybe she didn’t care about him at all. Which, after everything he’d done, was only fair.
Wiz leaned forward, a crease forming between her brows. “None of that is true.”
Trevor returned her stare without expression. He wouldn’t—and couldn’t—give her anything.
Wiz’s head tilted. “You can’t tell us anything. That, plus all the rest, means you’re undercover.” She raised one brow. “Driving an official vehicle isn’t smart, nor is showing us you have active surveillance.”
She must have cameras watching his hotel, and she’d seen him leave before she called. He’d run a frequency detector looking for active surveillance, but she probably hitchhiked on the hotel’s Wi-Fi. She certainly had the skill.
Wiz squinted. “Or you’re being very smart and showing us without telling us a thing. One thing you’d better be truthful about—if, despite all my precautions, the feds can listen to this conversation, I need to know.”
Trevor clamped his lips together to keep his laughter contained. When he had control, he told her the truth. “Nobody can penetrate Victory Security’s fortress without military grade hardware blowing a hole in the wall or a tow truck pulling the doors off, Victoria May Meadows Borde. The geeks tried all their newest tricks and got nowhere.”
Tom lunged across the table and grabbed his tie. “Watch yourself. You’re here on sufferance and I’ll happily toss you out. Understood?”
With difficulty, Trevor didn’t react. He’d expected a reaction, but not violence from Tom Borde, of all people. “Yes.” The financier/cowboy’s profile was the epitome of cool and collected, but obviously, Wiz was a weak spot.
Michael snorted. “You can quit trying to distract us with emotional tricks, Mills. There’s too many of us here with different triggers. One of us will see through whatever cheap tactic you try.”
