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The man’s laugh was sinister... deadly. “He never has been in God’s house, has he?”
The muscles in God’s forearms began to twitch as he struggled not to reach for his Desert Eagle to make this arrogant asshole get to his point.
“If you’re not here to kill me, then you want information. Whatever your mission... you’re about to fail,” God said. He put his hand to his ear and pressed the small device nestled in his ear canal. “Free, I have unwanted guests. Turn my damn lights back on.”
“Sir?” Free said groggily in his ear, but he heard the tapping of keys a second later. His tech specialist was on call twenty-four hours and he took his duty seriously. It’d only been a few seconds when Free whispered, “What the hell? Somebody hacked through your—”
“Just cut ’em on,” God growled still watching the shadowy figure in the corner of his living room. As far as he could tell, he hadn’t seen any glistening metal in his guest’s hands, so he believed this man wasn’t there for a battle.
He and Day had been to Hart’s house after he’d called and said he’d fought two men who had tried to get information from Free’s computer. It proved how exhausted he was that he hadn’t put it together that the same men might be at his house waiting on him. He was the only one with the information he figured they were seeking.
A few seconds later his electricity came on, the light shocking his eyes momentarily. He met his intruder’s piercing gray glare for a split second before he searched for Day. His husband was standing at the entrance to the kitchen with a dark figure standing only a couple feet away from him. He was far enough away not to get struck, but close enough to react if Day tried anything. They were professionals.
“Dropped out of MIT and went to trade school, huh? That’s Lennox Freeman’s cover story. That’s the best you all could come up with to conceal one of the best hackers in the world?” the man asked, standing in front of their wet bar with his back to them.
“You still haven’t learned your lesson?” God asked. “I suggest you get your mind off Lennox. My friend was being considerate.”
“So was mine,” the man replied casually.
God took off his heavy coat and tossed it over the stair banister. “Come here, Leo.”
Day didn’t hesitate to move, and God was glad when the dark man didn’t follow. Instead, he came farther into the living room and stood close to his partner who was pouring himself a glass of Skyy Vodka.
“Help your-fucking-self,” Day said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Your hospitality is appreciated,” the shorter one responded in a pleasant tone.
The other one dressed in black just as Marcus Stewart had described had yet to utter a word. It didn’t appear he needed to. His body language spoke for him. God watched as sharp, midnight eyes held his while the man moved through his home with the stealth of a killer, without a sound. His ink-black hair was short on the sides and the length on the top was slicked back and held firmly in place with whatever products he used. He was well-dressed in tailored pants and a coat that had to have cost a month of God’s salary. Yet, no matter how fancy the outerwear, God could see what the man was packing underneath. Hart had said he’d pulled a collapsible baton on him.
The shorter one took his drink and sat back down, his jacket splaying open and revealing a Desert Eagle like his own. He smirked when he saw God staring at it. “Nice piece,” he muttered.
The man shrugged. “Got it at a pawn shop.”
God scoffed. Yeah right. And the custom-made suppressor for it too, I guess?
“And yours? Didn’t think the police department was financially capable of issuing such fine weaponry.” He nodded at God’s holster. “Black walnut with gold appointments. I’ve never seen ones like ’em. Where’d you get them?”
“From me,” Day said, irritably. “You gonna get to your point? We’re not exactly in the socializing mood with men that just broke into our home.”
“So rude,” the man in black mumbled.
“What’s your name?” God frowned. He had to admit he was more than intrigued. Free had said one thing stuck out to him when they were trying to get information. The man had said ‘we’re not the bad guys’. Well then what did they want?
“My name is Ex. The man to my right is Meridian.”
“Those aren’t your government names,” God rebutted.
The man set his empty glass down on the coffee table and glared back at him. “That’s exactly what they are.”
God thought about those words. “What agency do you work for? DEA? FBI?”
Ex scowled at him as if he was offended.
