Take - Page 80

I’d never liked close contact with a woman. I’d grown up without it, prided myself on being self-contained.

It had made me a good soldier, a good Delta Force operator, and an excellent CIA agent.

But I liked Frankie right where she was.

Fuck. My brothers were right. I had feelings for this woman.

For my best friend’s sister.

I stared up at the ceiling. I realized I hadn’t thought about Jack these last few days. Frankie had stopped being Jack’s sister and just become mine.

And damn if that didn’t spook me a bit.

I gently shifted Frankie and slipped out of the bed.

In the bathroom, I gripped the sink. I couldn’t think of feelings and emotions right now. I looked into the mirror. I had to stay focused on Auclair.

On keeping Frankie safe.

I tugged on my pajama pants. I felt too awake and wired now.

In the kitchen, I navigated the familiar darkness and poured myself a glass of whiskey. As I sipped, I looked out the window.

You can’t run forever, Auclair.

This was my city, my home.

And Frankie was mine now.

I needed a way to track my foe down, once and for all. It was time to end this.

I knew Frankie was champing at the bit to get back in the lab. I wouldn’t be able to hold her off forever. She’d told me that she’d been emailing with some of her DARPA contacts. They were keen for her to get back to work as well. They were talking about setting up a temporary, secure lab for her.

There was nowhere secure enough for me.

I wanted her where I could see her.

Restless, I headed to my office. I left the lights off and sat in my chair. It was time to hit up some of my…darker contacts.

Whatever it took.

I logged onto the dark web and sent out a couple of messages. With these guys, they could respond in a few hours, or a few weeks.

But they were some of the best hackers and information gatherers in the business. If anyone could track Auclair down in New Orleans, it was these guys.

I needed a location. Now.

I felt my cellphone vibrate and frowned. It was the middle of the night, so a late-night call usually meant a problem.

I pulled out the phone and saw the call wasn’t from PSS.

It was a blocked number.

I frowned. I shouldn’t be getting a blocked call. They weren’t allowed through to any PSS phones, and very few people had this number.

I pressed the phone to my ear. “Fury.”

“Ah, Reath Fury.”