Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Ken
Dewi had more work to do, but Ken didn’t feel like leaving the cabin, so he offered to stay there with Lyssa. He didn’t know where Donnel and Hyacinth were now, but he didn’t want to risk further contact with them.
He couldn’t promise he wouldn’t go after the man. He’d been Primed not to kill Donnel.
But the order didn’t say he couldn’t deck the guy again. And boy, did he have the urge to just go clobber him and beat the crap out of him.
That pulled him up short.
What the fuck is going on with me? He never used to be bloodthirsty, but he really did want to kill Donnel for what he did.
Ken didn’t have a lot of packing to do because they’d brought minimal clothes and used the cabin’s washer and dryer.
He did have work to catch up on still, so instead of packing, he set up his computer at the cabin’s table while Lyssa fell asleep on a blanket on the living room floor.
He’d been analyzing the latest tranche of data from Abundio Segura’s corporation when he realized something—there was nothing new from Miranda Segura’s computers. Work or personal.
Did they find and remove my spyware?
That would be weird, though, because they would’ve likely found the stuff on the servers if they’d located it.
He reviewed the data and realized Miranda Segura hadn’t even logged into the system in days.
At all.
It was highly unlike her not to at least check her corporate email from her phone, but there was nothing to indicate her ID had been used.
He returned to the thumb drive Jake received from her and started scanning the data again. Outside of the documents she’d put on the thumb drive, the data in the spreadsheets just looked screwy, but there was no metadata for him to look at to trace where they came from.
But nearly all the files were copies of the false data someone had given her a few weeks back. So she hadn’t verified any of it.
And he knew this because he was still able to log into the cartel’s computers and compare the data.
He pulled up her contact info and, thinking this was probably a bad idea, got one of the burner phones and installed the secure anonymous app on it and tried calling her burner number.
There was no answer. It went to voicemail with a generic greeting, so he hung up and sent a test email to the one she’d listed in the documentation on the thumb drive she passed to Jake, stating that “they” had a question about some of the data.
But the tingle at the base of his spine was singing something was not right.
At all.
Correction, not singing—screaming.
There was nothing in her work or personal computer activity suggesting she was going on another trip. In fact, all the business meetings on her personal calendar, which she synced with her work calendar account from the cloud, had disappeared.
Just gone.
He logged into the corporate server again, taking the risk to track her activity, and realized her information in the system was now gone, too.
Not dormant, not changed to another username and password—completely wiped from the system.
In fact, when he looked up things like her login key, her business email account, all of that—they were gone. She’d disappeared from the HR records, wiped as if she’d never been there.
Ken called Peyton. “We have a problem.”
“What now?” Peyton groaned.
“Miranda Segura has completely dropped off the radar. As in there is nothing.”
“What? When did that happen?”
“I just noticed it,” Ken said. “I’m not seeing any indications she’s logged into her work or personal computers, or accessed her corporate email from her phone, for days.
That is highly irregular.” Ken leaned back in his chair as he told Peyton what he’d discovered. “I consider all of that suspicious.”
Peyton hesitated. “Hmm. You’re right. That is suspicious.”
“Remind me why we didn’t install cameras or bugs in her apartment when they broke in to hack the laptop?” Ken asked.
“Too risky,” Peyton said. “It’s likely she—or her father—orders regular sweeps for bugs and cameras. I would be shocked if they didn’t. What about those poison pills she talked about?” Peyton asked.
“I have no idea,” Ken said. “I guess we wait and see. She said two weeks, right?”
“If she really even had any.”
“Well, there is that. I haven’t found any evidence that they exist. They could’ve been a bluff, or something happened to her before she set them up. How long do we wait?”
Peyton didn’t respond immediately. “Let me figure out a legit-sounding excuse for a cold call, and I’ll work with Alvarez to implement it. I’d rather it come from a native-sounding Spanish speaker. Less suspicious.”
“Let me know.” Ken hung up and stared at the data.
She’d obviously thought the bogus data on the thumb drive she’d received was legit.
She was too savvy to believe she could snow the Bratva with fake information.
Especially if she was trying to offload the cartel to them and work with them in other areas.
They would turn around, see that the data was fake, and kill her.
No way was she naive enough not to understand that.
But where’d she get the fake data? That’s what he wanted to know, because whoever it was, they were at least one step ahead of her.
And who would want to put her at risk by giving her fake data to pass on?
He wasn’t an expert in organized crime, but he’d seen enough TV shows to know that Russian mobsters were on a whole different level than American crime organizations.
Twenty minutes later, Peyton called back. “Well, she’s completely off the grid.”
“What?” Ken asked.
“I had Alvarez call and ask for her, pretending to be a real estate agent who received a query from her the day before we saw her. Apparently, she no longer works at the office. The receptionist he talked to sounded a little… nervous.”
“Nervous how?”
“Like she was under orders not to say or imply anything other than Miranda no longer worked there. And when he asked if there was an alternate number he could contact her at, the receptionist said no, and basically hung up on him.”
“Shiiiit.”
“Exactly. Are we still receiving data from the cartel computers?”
“Yep. And the corporate computers.”
“Good. Keep me posted.” Peyton ended the call.
Ken set his phone down and closed his laptop lid. He wasn’t built for this cloak-and-dagger bullshit.
Yes, he would do it, because it was now his job to do it, and Peyton was relying on him to do that job.
But Ken hated doing it.
Then he looked down at his sleeping daughter. Unlike his mother, Lyssa would be raised knowing all about her real family. She would grow up safe and protected, loved by all who surrounded her.
He took a deep breath and swallowed back his discomfort over what he had to do.
This is for our babies’ futures.
That’s what he’d keep repeating to himself.
Whatever it took, he’d do it if it meant keeping them safe.
Because that was all that mattered.
And tomorrow, they would go home.
Standing, he grabbed his laptop and shoved it into his bag. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was pack.
Everything else could wait until he was back in Florida and had a good night of sleep in their own bed.
Asia
“Just how long are we expected to stay in Florida?” She and Trent were taking a walk in the woods, alone and out of earshot of the kids or anyone else.
“Until it’s safe.”
She stopped and turned to him. “I’m sick of this ‘Pack Alpha business’ bullshit, Trent. Why does it feel like there’s something really fucking big you’re not telling me?”
He stared at his feet, his hands jammed deep in the pockets of his sweats as she felt his mind churning over… stuff.
What kind of stuff?
She wasn’t sure she wanted to know, because this felt really bad.
Finally, he met her gaze. “Mate, I need you to trust me.”
She fought the urge to curl her lips at him and bare her teeth. “You’re not a fucking Prime, Trent.”
“All I can tell you is that once you’re safely in Florida, we can tell you and the kids something.”
Fear filled her. “Is he dead?”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and she realized no, it wasn’t that.
If Peyton were dead, Trent would not be reacting like this.
Not at all.
He opened his eyes again and met her gaze. “Please trust me, baby,” he whispered. “If the kids sense something, they may bombard you with questions. We don’t want to have to Prime them yet. We need them to act...” He thought about it. “Authentic, for now.”
Her gaze narrowed as she studied him in the dark. “Authentic, how? You mean worried and scared?”
He slowly nodded.
She paused. “Wait.” She studied him a moment longer. “If you want them to keep acting the way they are right now, is there a reason they might not be when they get the news?”
He arched an eyebrow at her, and the borderline playful way he did it made her gasp and clap her hands over her mouth as she sobbed with relief. “He’s alive!” she whispered through her hands.
Trent pulled her into his arms, holding her, his hand cupping the back of her head. “I didn’t say anything, baby. I was ordered to keep a secret. Okay? You have to keep acting the way you are until you officially receive an update.”
“Gillian already knows, right?”
“Gillian knows what she needs to know,” he cryptically said. “And she’s been Primed to keep secrets she needs to keep.”
She nearly melted against him as she silently cried against his chest. “Fuck your brother,” she softly said. “I will punch that fucker myself when he gets back.”
Trent chuckled. “You’ll have to stand in line behind Dewi and Gillian,” he whispered into her hair, and she clutched him tighter.
“Why are we really going to Florida?” she asked.
He made her meet his gaze. “Ray Dorland. Also, Ken made Peyton promise him that Dewi, Gillian, Tam, and you, plus all the babies and kids, would be in Florida and nowhere near Idaho when that plays out. So…” He shrugged. “Can’t punch Peyton for that, at least.” He smiled.
“Oh, that rat bastard. I’ve been terrified!”
“I know, baby. I’m sorry we couldn’t update you sooner.”
She buried her face against his chest again. “I get it. People look to Gillian and me, and we have to be pitch-perfect.”
“Plus, it’d be hard to explain how she’s pregnant again if we didn’t tell you.”
She gasped and swatted his shoulder. “He was here? When?”
He grinned. “In the past couple of days.” His smile faded.
“Things are in motion. A bunch of things. Miranda Segura has unexpectedly disappeared from the grid, and we suspect she’s dead.
Things are in flux. I would feel better having you guys down there.
No, it’s not as remote as Idaho, but Ray Dorland has no idea about the Florida compound or where it is, and not being remote is a plus in some ways. ”
“Because if we need to move out fast, we can blend into the population?” she asked.
He nodded. “Badger will take you car shopping. They wanted another vehicle anyway. Get a big SUV, or a van, or something like that. I want you guys to have fun. The kids will enjoy the hell out of the beaches. Take them deep-sea fishing. Let them go to Disney. The whole summer vacation experience. Spare no expense. Keep their minds off the fact that they’re not home and keep them too busy to ask questions. ”
“How long?”
“At least until after the lab is taken down. And also use the excuse that you’re helping Gillian, Dewi, and Ken with the plans for the expanded pack compound. Which really is the truth, too.”
“Okay. We building a vacation house there, too?”
He smiled. “Baby gets what baby wants.”
She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. “Oh, so now you’re sweet-talking me.” Her smile faded. “I hate that we’re leaving with Malina so young. You should be spending this time with her.”
“I know. I don’t like it either, but I’ll visit a few times. I promise. So it won’t just be you down there alone the whole time. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Maybe we’ll even take a few days alone together.” He smiled. “Leave the big kids with Aunt Dewi and take the baby and go off somewhere.”
She snickered. “I don’t want another baby right now,” she said. “Malina will have plenty of playmates, including two sets of Irish twins, thanks to her aunts.”
Trent
He cupped her ass in his hands, holding her body pressed against his, and silently gave thanks she forgave him for keeping the truth about Peyton from her for so long. To be fair, Peyton hadn’t specifically forbidden him from letting her play twenty questions with him and guess the truth.
He damned sure couldn’t lie to her once she knew it, either.
His fingers kneaded her soft flesh through the denim of her jeans. “Want to take a quick naked run with me?” He playfully waggled his eyebrows at her, making her laugh.
“You just want to fuck me shifted, buster. And right now, I have too much packing left to be able to do that.”
“Aw.” He threw in a little playful pouty lip. “You sure?”
“Trent Corbin Bleacke, I’ve been married to you long enough to know your tricks.” She nuzzled his nose.
“Can’t blame a wolf for trying, can you?”
“No. Besides, like I said, I am not ready to get knocked up again.” She ran her hands through his hair, tousling it. “But if you’re so eager to play, I guess you should start building time into your busy schedule to come visit me in Florida, huh?”
He slanted his lips over hers in a possessive, scorching kiss. “You suuure?” he playfully asked.
“Sure that I have too much to do and don’t want to get knocked up again? Absolutely.”
He sighed melodramatically. “Then I guess I’d better help you pack, huh?”
“If you don’t want a cold shoulder and a set of blue balls when you get your ass to Florida, uh, yeah.”
Snickering, he laced fingers with her as they slowly made their way back toward the house. “Love you, baby.”
“Love you, too, Spare Heir.”
He laughed at their old, private joke. “That’ll never not be funny to me.”