24. Gwen #2
You’re a bigger person than I am. I’m still jealous of the fact that Easton went on a few dates with Julian and Gideon’s sister several years ago, and Easton isn’t even mine.
Heck, I didn’t even know him then. Yet, when I learned that tidbit of intel in August—about them dating and how Hollis ended it with him, worried she’d fall for him (don’t blame her there) .
. . I almost lost it. At least they didn’t sleep together, but still. The history’s there.
I look up at Carter as he answers his wife’s question. “We traced the wire payments to the Dubai hotel employees to a bogus account in the Caymans.” Time to get out of my head and back in operator mode. “Bodhi and another man checked into the hotel three days before Gwen and you all arrived.”
Bodhi. Also known as the blue-eyed arsehole. This is the first time anyone’s voiced his official name in my presence when talking about what happened, and it has my stomach turning.
Carter clears his throat, probably recognizing how uncomfortable I am at the use of that name. “The two men must’ve recruited the three hotel workers on-site and in person. No digital footprint outside the payments.”
“And my guess is those employees were only paid half upfront with the promise of the rest after the job was done,” Julian chimes in. “They never had to pay the rest since they were killed right after Gwen was taken.”
“They covered their tracks,” Mya grumbles, still standing behind Oliver’s chair. “Which means Jezebel sent men to Dubai who had no ties to her outside the compound.”
“Where are you at on checking out The Sapphire’s guests to see if anyone here is tied to this?” Diana asks next.
I pull my rig closer and switch the screen views before spinning it around so she can see what I’ve been working on with Jerry this afternoon. I finally got into the groove, and Jerry has proved himself a decent companion.
“I created a program that will comb through the backgrounds of every single guest checked in here now, as well as anyone who’s visited in the last six weeks.
It’ll organize them into different categories based on certain criteria—from connections with us to the two men Zoey identified who took me in Dubai and so on.
It’ll do all the heavy lifting for us and give us a list of names of possible traitors to question. ”
“That’s impressive.” Diana turns to the side, leaning into Carter. “What about your—”
“My team on the ground in Brisbane hasn’t turned up anything we don’t already know,” Gideon answers before she can finish her question.
“And the government came up empty after searching the rubble at the compound. All evidence was destroyed.” He looks around at the rest of the team, his expression grim, as if he knows we’re not going to like what he has to say next.
“My guy with ADF also let us know what your husband already assumed would happen. The man the Aussies arrested is innocent.”
With her free hand, Diana pushes her glasses to the bridge of her nose. “ADF?”
“Australian Defence Force,” Carter clarifies as the door clicks and opens.
Dad and Easton return, and Dad looks a little less “want to kill a guy,” so that’s good.
Easton settles back at the table while Dad remains standing, removing his mobile from his pocket. “Natasha just texted. She’s heading to the indoor pool with Ella and the others.”
“Looks like that’s what you all need to do, too.” Diana eases free from Carter and surveys us all one by one. “You’re exhausted. Jet-lagged and frustrated. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off and join them?” She faces me. “And your program is running on its own, right?”
“It is,” I confirm.
“You want us to relax?” Gideon guffaws.
“I do.” Diana laces her fingers with Carter’s. “I’ll have dinner sent to the pool later.”
“My wife is right. We’ve been hitting dead end after dead end. We need to clear our heads. We’ll start fresh tomorrow.”
Once Carter’s mind is made up, it’s all the way up. There’s no sense in arguing with him. And maybe I could use a break myself, so I don’t break down.
Gideon stands, palms planted on the table, his expression and voice incredulous. “You’re seriously asking us to swim?”
Carter levels him with a hard look. “I don’t recall asking.”
And here we go.
Two alphas, neither inclined to back down. Gideon’s probably the first guy Carter has faced off with who’s slightly taller with a bit more grit. Oh, and more money and connections. Seems impossible, but it’s true.
“The store upstairs sells swimwear,” I toss out, smiling at Gideon, hoping to soften him a little.
Zoey closes her rig and tucks it under her arm. “I’ll continue working from my room.” Another stubborn one. Shocker. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Hold up, I’ll join you,” Gideon calls out. Guess he won’t be needing to hit the store. “When my team in Brisbane reaches out, I’ll come find you.”
Carter gives him a hesitant nod before his gaze settles on Easton, his expression a lesson in Don’t even think about it if I’ve ever seen one. Gideon and Zoey may not answer to him, but the rest of us do.
Easton doesn’t argue, but I can tell he’s not happy about this. He slowly rises, exhaling a deep breath in the process, and Dad steps out of his way so he can go to his bedroom to change.
Maybe this is a crazy idea but spending time with the kids and hearing them laugh might be the best medicine for all of us.
As everyone else starts to pack up, Julian remains rooted in place next to me. “You coming with us?” I ask him. “Or are you joining Gideon and Zoey?”
“I should probably keep monitoring everything from my rig, don’t you think? Like if she uses one of our shared programs?” He leans in and whispers, “Also, I don’t think Zoey cares for me that much.”
“What? Why not?”
“Just a vibe I get. And as for your dad? The man hates me. Not going on vibes but death stares. So, I should probably skip the pool.”
I almost laugh, but when I spot Dad’s eyes aimed at Julian like he’s a target behind enemy lines, I suppress the urge to do so. “No, no. You can keep an eye on your programs at the pool. You deserve a break, and I’ll keep you safe. Don’t worry.”
“Safe from everyone, or just your dad?”
Are you implying what I think you are? “You only need protection from my dad.”
His green eyes narrow in question.
“Trust me on that.” My voice breaks, and I even go so far as to swallow the lump in my throat, which of course he clocks. There’s a reason I should stay behind a screen and never play poker. My tells have tells.
“Now see,” he rasps, shaking his head, “I think if I listen to you on that . . . I’ll wind up getting myself in trouble.”