Chapter 47
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
KENSINGTON, TEXAS
Who knew my cell phone was haunted? #ghosted
—@PRyanPOfficial
#lesigh Here we go again.
—@CuteandRich3
Ignore.
I press the button to decline Fallon’s call again. My fingers resume dancing across the keyboard as I unearth more information about Devil’s Lair. As I do, my fury swells with her even as disappointment mounts simultaneously. The only thing preventing my heart from being crushed beneath the weight of these opposing emotions is the job I was hired to do—the contract work for Thorn. Still, one question out of a million keeps pushing past the block I’ve thrown up.
“What the fuck would possess her to do this? She’s never going to shed the humiliation that’s going to be attached to her for the rest of her damn life when this comes out.” The words are out of my mouth as I glare at my computer screen.
My phone rings again, and I growl savagely before I realize it’s Thorn. I snarl, “What?”
“ Q?za and Sam want to know your status.”
“I’m almost all the way through analyzing the transcripts.”
“And?” he demands.
I forgot what an insistent bastard he is. It’s been less than three days since we last talked and he wants me to have analyzed close to three years worth of phone sex transcripts—which I first had to trigger to locate the crown prince’s calls and then analyze with voice prints. “And I forgot what an impatient bastard you are.”
“You used to be faster at this,” he taunts before he proceeds to infuriate me. “ Q?za is already done with her part.”
“Well, isn’t that nice when we’re just running financials and coming up with profiles. Some of us are a bit hampered because you don’t want footprints, so I’m downloading data to my system. Also, for what it’s worth, I’d better not get the FBI knocking on my door as a result of transferring this data across state lines,” I warn him.
I hear his fingers clicking furiously on his side. “Done. How much more time do you need?”
“Do you want me triggering any alarms in Devil’s Lair’s system that I’m there?” My voice is dripping with sarcasm.
“Testy much? Just call her and ask her why she’s doing what she’s doing. She’ll ask how you know, you’ll obfuscate. She’ll be pissed. The end.”
“How many times do I have to say this—I don’t care!” My voice rises with each word until I’m shouting.
His chair creaks as he settles back. “I have a gut feeling it’s not what you’re thinking.”
“Great. Your gut isn’t going to clear Fallon until the data does. Until then, she’s just as suspect as her boss, her trainer, and the other three operators.”
He backs off. “How much more time do you need?”
I check my upper left monitor. “Another six hours.”
“And to analyze the data?”
“A few more after that.”
“Let me know what you find.” He abruptly disconnects the call.
Ten hours later, I’m emotionally exhausted. I’ve analyzed the data and narrowed down the potential suspects to three. Data doesn’t lie the way a woman’s sweet lips can.
With that, I pick up my cell phone and text Fallon.
Ethan: I’ll be there tomorrow.
Fallon: Thank god. I need you.
As I stare at the trail of data connecting the owner and Fallon’s operator number to those being made against the crown prince’s, I wonder if she’ll be saying that after she sees me, and I tell her I never want to hear from her again.