18. Dante #2
"Of course they are, love. That's what I pay Roman and his team for," I chuckle.
"No. Someone else. Helena didn't know them. We stayed here all day, and so did that car—I don't know what it is, but it's small and black. It's a few houses down. Dark tint. I'm…" She pauses. "I'm scared."
Rage floods through my veins like lava. "Did no one think to fucking tell me?" I whip my head around to Roman, who looks stunned.
"I messaged Roman," Helena offers. "I didn't hear back, I assumed… I don't know. I apologize, sir."
"Well?" I snap at Roman. His fingers are a blur as he swipes and taps on his phone screen, shaking his head.
"Nothing. There's nothing. Not in the encrypted channels, not in the regular messaging apps, nothing." He snaps his head up and stares at me. "Someone's intercepting our signals. They've jammed the lines. Fuck, they're probably in our systems right now."
"Fuck. Fuck!" I rake my hands down my face and turn to Melody. "Get in the basement. Do not come out until I say it's safe. Helena goes with you."
Melody looks stunned, her eyes wide with fear, but she nods and follows Helena to the back of the pantry. I only breathe a sigh of relief—however brief—when I hear the steel door shut with a clunk .
"Seraph. It has to be. No one else has this level of resources at their disposal." I curse under my breath. Roman nods and holds out his hand. I toss my phone to him and he catches it, quickly powering it off along with his own.
I race to the storage closet behind the stairs and pull out a sledgehammer, handing it over to Roman. Silently, he drops the devices onto the floor.
"Wait," I command. "Back door. Concrete."
He nods, and we sprint through the house to the kitchen, just outside the pantry.
A thick, sturdy ledge of concrete leads to the minuscule backyard.
I don't dare go outside—not yet—but Roman does and drops the phones again.
Without hesitation, he brings the sledgehammer down.
And again. And again. He doesn't stop until our phones are nothing but shattered glass and twisted metal.
"Was Marie here today?" He huffs out, leaning on the handle of the sledgehammer.
I shake my head. It's her day off. "She'll be back tomorrow."
"We need to ask her some questions." His glare is unnerving. My stomach twists, and I grimace. Marie has been my housekeeper for years. She worked for my parents, and I can't imagine her betraying me. Not like this.
"We'll talk to her tomorrow," I assure him.
"Unless she doesn't show up."
"If she doesn't show up, then we have our mole, don't we?" I rub my eyes and stifle a groan. "What about the computers?"
As soon as the words exit my mouth, Roman takes off towards the stairs, up to my home office.
I follow silently, thoughts racing through my mind.
Would Marie do this? Would Marie really betray me?
She's a quiet woman. Dependable, or so I thought.
Melody loves her fruit salads. Fuck, Melody.
I can't imagine how scared she is right now, but I can't go to her.
Not yet. We need to secure the house, everything.
Roman is already at my desk, having unlocked my computer.
The only person on earth—other than me—who knows my passwords.
He holds a copy of my encryption key. He gives me a sideways glance when he discovers the GPS tracking software and the camera feeds from Melody's old apartment. "You still need these?"
I shake my head, and he deletes them. His fingers flurry over the keyboard, checking systems, networks, anything for possible vulnerabilities.
It's truly amazing to watch. In movies, hackers usually have the black terminal screen with green text.
That's a farce—something Hollywood cooked up to seem exciting and glamorous.
Sure, he uses the command shell, but it's not like that ridiculous TV show where two people type on the same keyboard to make hacking "faster".
Within moments, he looks up at me with a grim expression. "Nothing. Not a trace. No bugs, no diversions, nothing."
I lean down beside him, taking in the information on the screen. He's right. Of course, he's right. He's the best, and that's why I have him on my side.
"Not unusual. Phones are vulnerable—you know this. Connect to one shady public Wi-Fi network, and they're in. But your home network is safe." Roman still looks murderous. "This also means, of course, that we can't track them back ."
"Roman. You know I trust you implicitly. My next question is very important. Is Melody safe here?" I straighten my back and look down at him.
"As long as she stays inside, yes."
An unhinged cackle rumbles in my chest. "Oh, she'll hate that."
"Do you think she'll hate being alive more?" He's not laughing. He's deadly serious as he stands with unflinching eye contact. I shake my head. "Then she'll fucking learn to live with it."
Melody eyes her new flip phone with irritation. "This sucks."
"Harder to hack, love. No Wi-Fi, no apps. You can text and call." I lower my voice and lean in, kissing her cheek. "It sends pictures, though."
Finally, that gets a laugh out of her. "Such a horndog. Does it receive pictures?"
"Of course," I say and stand. With my own new flip phone, I pull my pants out and snap a photo of my cock. She cackles at the sight, and I send the photo, her phone buzzing a few seconds later.
"You're not even hard!" She launches herself backwards onto the couch, tears rolling down her cheeks as she laughs.
"Do you want me to be? That's a very easy fix." I dive on top of her and pepper her with kisses, giggling along with her.
"No! No, I'm still so sore. Have mercy on your poor, long-suffering wife!" She sticks her lower lip out in a pout. God, that woman does things to me.
"You won't be suffering. You'll be writhing in ecstasy, begging me for more. Tell me I'm wrong."
"Fucking hell. You're not wrong." Melody sighs with a roll of her eyes. She readjusts herself and snuggles into my side, making little noises like a puppy. Fuck, my heart is going to explode.
And it almost does when our playful joy is interrupted by someone pounding on the door. Melody jolts with surprise, concern written across her face.
"Who the fuck is that?" I snarl out and stomp to the door. Looking through the peephole, a cold sweat breaks out on my brow. "Motherfucker."