1. Every Rose Has its Thorn
“SIR?”
I take a deep breath, rolling the mouthful of whiskey I just tipped back across my tongue before lifting my eyes to the open doorway. I don’t bother responding, I just wait. Watching as the man standing outside my office shifts on his feet, looking half ready to bolt.
At least I still intimidate a few people in this world.
He presses his lips together before finally blurting out the reason for this interruption. “You have a call on line two.”
Of course I do. I’m surprised it took this long.
Working my jaw from side to side, I resist the urge to clench it. To react in a noticeable way. “Put it through.”
I wait, glaring at the phone as he rushes away. Daring it to ring. I know what’s coming, and it’s the icing on the shit cake my life has been baking into for the past six months.
When the phone starts to ring, I let it, waiting until the fifth trill to pick up the receiver, pressing it to my ear without answering. If he wants to talk to me then he can talk.
“Vincent.” My contact at the Pentagon sounds just as dry and humorless as always. “I understand GHOST is no longer connected with Alaskan Security.” He cuts right to the point. Right into the wound still festering in my pride. The slice is swift and sharp. But I have to let it roll right off. Now’s not the time to forget who I am. What I’m capable of.
Even if no one else believes it.
“They became more hassle than they were worth.” It’s the truth. The owner of the company I’d been using to keep my hands—and as a result, the government’s hands—a little cleaner, decided to be a complete pain in my ass. And I couldn’t tolerate that.
Especially not after her.
Six months ago she planted a seed which quickly grew into questions and doubt. I had to do something. I couldn’t just let my team think I was slipping. That I’d gone soft. I had to make a statement. Had to make an example of someone.
I chose them. And it backfired. Epically.
“Interesting. My contacts said it was Alaskan Security who chose to sever ties.” There’s a smugness in his tone. Like he thinks he’s got one up on me. And maybe he does.
But not for long. That’s not how I work.
“Alaskan Security was embarrassed because I was able to prove their capabilities were subpar.” My tone stays even and cool in spite of the anger brewing in my gut. “They’ll come back. They have to. And when they do, they’ll be better. Worth having a place in my lineup.”
Pierce, the owner of Alaskan Security, should be fucking thanking me for what I did. I showed him exactly what needed fixing within his company. Did his goddamned job for him.
And this is the thanks I get.
“I would hope they come back if I were you. They provided a service we found very useful. It would be a shame if we had to reevaluate our contract with you.”
My next breath is slow. Steady. “They will come back.” I say it again. Firmer this time.
I don’t need this asshole questioning me. Not when so many others already are.
“Good. Then we won’t have any problems.” The line goes dead in my ear. I sit with it a few seconds, refusing to react the way I know he wants.
It takes longer than normal for my blood to cool. When it finally does, I lower the receiver into place, gently setting it down.
I’ve built a career on knowing how to keep it together, even in the most extreme circumstances. Being nonreactive while everyone else is losing their shit. It’s what makes me the best at what I do.
Have I also been a little ruthless at times? Maybe. Do I push the boundaries of acceptability? Possibly. But I always get the job done. Anyone who says that’s not what matters most is a fucking liar. That”s why I have to prove I can still get the job done. That I”m still a man no one should fuck with. Still in control of everything and everyone around me.
And the best—maybe the only—way to do that, is to go back to the beginning. To the original source of all this fucking doubt stacking up around me.
I tamp down the curl of anticipation weaving into my gut, stomping it away. I’m not excited about this. It’s simply a means to an end. The path I have to take to reclaim the life I’m too close to losing.
Snagging my cell, I dial as I stand, crossing the room while the line rings, waiting for my second in command to answer. Amos picks up on the second ring. ”What can I do?”
His no-nonsense attitude is why we get along as well as we do. There”s no casual conversation between us. No mincing words. Just getting shit done.
”I”m flying to Nashville tonight. Call Igor. Have him get everything set up. I want to be off the ground in under an hour.” The timing is tight, but I don”t care. I pay them to make shit happen. To take orders without question.
And lately, there have been too many goddamned questions. Ones I shouldn”t have to answer. I”m not their mothers. I don”t have to explain why. The why is fucking irrelevant to them.
Thankfully, the why never matters to Amos. He”s one of the few people at GHOST who isn”t questioning my leadership.
But soon, he won’t be in the minority. Soon they’ll all see I”m the same Vincent they love to hate. That I always come out on top. Even if they don”t understand the path I take, I know how to fucking win.
”Yes, sir.” Amos disconnects the call the same time I do. Neither of us has time to waste.
While Igor”s organizing my travel, I have my own shit to get together. An hour isn”t much time to coordinate a flight, even when you own a private plane, but it”s not much time for all I need to do either.
Good thing I fucking know what I”m doing, whether the assholes around me believe it or not.
FUCKING HELL.I expected it to be warmer than this.
I packed correctly, based on information from my weather app, but part of me still expected ten degrees in Nashville to feel warmer than ten degrees in Fairbanks. Like the opposite of humid heat and dry heat. Apparently cold is just fucking cold. Especially with the wind blowing nonstop, whipping around the light snow falling on the city.
I’m sure it doesn’t help that I’m sixty feet in the air, but it’s a necessary evil. Just like my presence here on the edge of downtown Nashville.
It’s not a bad place. If this was a casual trip, I”d probably be impressed. But this trip isn’t about sightseeing or exploration. I”m here to make an example of the woman who thought it was a smart idea to fuck with me.
It”s been half a year since Julieanne Marello hacked her way into GHOST’s system in an event some would pinpoint as the beginning of my downward spiral. I should have come here right away. Should have hunted her down then. But I didn”t, and that was a mistake. A mistake I”m rectifying now.
Pulling the collar of my coat higher against the wind whipping between the buildings, I lift my binoculars back into place. She showed up at the restaurant across the street over fifteen minutes ago, arriving right on time for the date with some pudgy looking stranger she met through an app with only the most basic security measures in place. It took me under five minutes to see every man who’d swiped whatever direction and read all their pitiful messages, disgusted with the level of incompetence.
How many fucking dicks do they think a woman needs to see?
At least the man she’s meeting tonight has kept it in his pants so far. Apparently that’s all he has going for him at this point since he’s left her waiting near the hostess station of what looks to be an upper-end restaurant, checking the time every two minutes and the app on her phone every three.
I pull up the mirror account I installed on my own phone and scowl. The prick hasn’t sent a single message telling her he’ll be late. Like a fucking amateur.
Or a pompous asshole. Probably both.
Julieanne seems to agree with me because her expression grows more irritated with each passing second. She should be irritated. He’s a fucking loser. She should leave now, even though it’ll fuck up my plans. I’d rather wait another day to make my move than have some prick get more than he deserves from her.
Hell, just getting to look at her is more than he deserves. Especially decked out the way she is now.
I”ve seen my little thorn before. Watched as her face filled my computer screen. But this is different. Now it”s not Julieanne coming after me, and that has me looking at her a little differently. She”s unassuming as hell. Mid-forties. Thick, curly, dark hair. A smile that lights up the room. Soft curves that probably drive most men to distraction.
Good thing I”m not most men.
Julieanne might be beautiful. She might be the walking embodiment of every sexual fantasy a man could ever have. But all I see is a target. The path back to where I want to be.
Movement at the door of the restaurant pulls my attention away, zeroing it in on the man striding her way. He motions with his hands, expression somewhat apologetic. Probably trying to explain why he left her standing there, waiting on his dumb ass for fifteen minutes. Fucking idiot. He has no clue. This woman could ruin his whole life in the span of five minutes, and he couldn”t even bother being on time for their date.
Then, as if being late wasn’t insulting enough, the prick moves in close, like he”s going to hug her. I grit my teeth as Julieanne stiffens, spine going rigid, body bending back. But he just keeps coming. Either he doesn”t realize or doesn”t care that she”s not in the hugging mood.
I can”t blame her. He looks like the kind of guy who thinks she should be grateful he”s there at all. That his presence is a gift she should graciously accept. He didn”t bother with flowers or a timely arrival and still looks shocked when she steps out of his reach, smiling wide as she dodges his attempt at an embrace.
Even once they reach their table, he doesn’t offer to help with her coat or pull out her chair. He just plops his pasty ass down beside the floor-to-ceiling window flanking the front of the building.
It would be so easy to shoot him. Take him out and save Julieanne the hassle of telling him there won’t be a second date. Not that I’m interested in making her life hassle-free. I just don’t want this loser fucking up my plans.
Because I need to make sure Julieanne wishes she never heard of GHOST. That she understands breaking into my system was the worst mistake she’s ever made.
The hacking community is small and everyone knows everyone. It goes with the territory. I need to make an example of her. To put the fear of God into my little thorn so she tells all her friends I’m not someone they should go up against.
I won’t hurt her. Even I have limits. But I will do whatever else it takes to make sure it’s clear that fucking with GHOST—fucking with me—is a mistake no one else should make.
I linger on the roof of the office building across from the restaurant a while longer, watching as her idiot date barely stops talking to take a breath, flapping his jaw like he’s the most interesting man in the world, and leaving Julieanne with nothing to do but sip her wine and nod. Looks like my little thorn is nicer than I expected. Too nice to tell a prick like that to fuck off.
That means I have plenty of time to do what I need to do.
After packing my binoculars away, I give the restaurant, and the woman just behind the glass, one final look before ducking through the roof door and taking the utility stairs all the way down to the main level. I’m not exactly inconspicuous here, and even though it’s late enough the office building seems quiet, it’s still a weeknight and I don’t want to risk being seen.
Because I want to prove I’m just as capable as I’ve always been. I might not be on the front line of ops anymore, but I’ve worked hard not to let my skills slip. And this trip offers me the chance to prove it. Even if no one else knows it but me.
Following the same path I used to get in, I move through the isolated corridors leading to the back of the building. Outside it’s just as quiet, so I quickly jog across the street to where my borrowed SUV is parked, load up, and pull away.
The drive to my next stop is short, under ten minutes, but the change is dramatic. The large buildings of the city”s edge are quickly replaced with a more residential area. The copious number of townhomes are close enough you could walk into the city during warmer weather, but far enough away to keep prices down. I”m not sure what led Julieanne here, but hopefully it wasn”t the relative safety of the area.
Because I”m about to blow the lid off every sense of security she has.
I park in the lot of the building next to hers, right beside a fenced-in dumpster to offer cover if I need it. I don’t expect to. It”s cold and dark, so there aren”t many people milling around. The ones who are, pay no attention to me. They”re too busy trying to get where they need to go while the wind whips at any bit of skin bared to the chilly air.
Going straight to Julieanne’s unit, I ignore the cold as I circle to the back side of her condo. It looks out over the man-made pond places like this dig to catch all the runoff caused by flattening out acres of land. The fountain in the middle of the pond is still running, piling a pillar of ice around its base and sending a frozen mist into the breeze, making this area colder than the parking lot and further reducing my chances of being seen by someone out for a late-night stroll.
I reach the small patio at the back of Julieanne’s townhome and do a quick scan to confirm no one’s watching. After seeing the coast is clear, I step into the seat of one of the cheap plastic chairs on her patio, using the added height to reach the ledge above me. It takes all of twenty seconds to climb my way up, boots hitting the solid surface as I drop into place. Thankfully, an overhang shelters it from the elements, so there’s no snow to leave footprints in or risk tracking into the condo.
Pulling the lock picking kit from my pocket, I lift my eyes to the handle of the sliding door, reaching out to test it. Surely, she wouldn”t be stupid enough to—
It opens easily, making me grit my teeth as I step into the room on the other side.
Julieanne’s bedroom.
Even in the dark, it’s obvious her home isn’t going to be what I expected. I’ve only seen her up close once, but she was all softness. Her skin. Her hair. Even her fucking voice.
I expected her home to be just as soft. Pink and cream and filled with throw pillows covered in velvet and fake fur. Something overtly feminine. Like she is.
This is not that.
This is... Sparse.
Her bed’s big, but just a mattress and box spring set on a metal frame. The nightstand beside it looks like it came in a flat box with assembly instructions. The room is almost sterile. Definitely depressing.
And doesn’t have a single fucking throw pillow in sight.
Maybe that”s why she left her door unlocked. Anyone who did decide to come in would discover there was nothing worth stealing and walk right back out.
But I’m not here to steal her shit. I’m here to steal her sense of security. To take whatever dumbass streak of bravery possessed her to think I’m someone she can play with and grind it into dust.
Methodically moving through the upper floor, I catalog the layout, noting doors and windows before moving down the stairs, checking for creaks as I go. The main living area is just as bare as the rest, with only a sofa, a television on a cheap stand, and a couple of second-hand end tables filling the space. The nicest room is the kitchen. It has a surprising number of appliances lining the counters, along with a jar of something sticky and foamy I have no interest in inspecting. It”s easy to identify this room as Julieanne’s favorite spot in her home.
So it’s what I’m going to ruin for her first.