The dam broke and the words flowed out. Things she could never say in her room at headquarters.
Dizzie surged to her feet, hands clenched into fists, and shouted at the ceiling. “Who the hell made you god?”
It was a stupid question with an easy answer. Money. It always came down to money.
She railed against all the corporations and investors she could think of. The Tremaines and the St. Johns, the Comforts and the Triplets.
When her voice got scratchy, she used the keyboard. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU.
The stark white letters gave her almost as much pleasure as shouting.
Different letters flickered to life in her implant. The sudden double vision made her eyes cross.
See you made it to safe house
“Goddammit, you bastard!”
No response.
Her fingers clicked angrily over the keyboard. ANSWER ME YOU ASSHOLE
Stop shouting. Don’t have much time
“Can’t you see me?” She typed as she talked.
Not there.
“This is your place? Why haven’t you been here lately?”
The answers were as terse as they’d been on the road.Yes. Been busy
“Why am I here?”
There was a pause. One long enough that she didn’t think he would answer. That pissed her off.
Keep you out of the way. While fix this
Dizzie closed her eyes and stared at the stark white words on her implants. Who would have guessed the hacker’s answer would be worse than his silence?
Chapter22
Killian rubbedthe sleep from his eyes and programmed the coffee maker for another cup. His third since Portia had left fifteen minutes ago.
The steaming liquid was bitter and black and burned on the way down. Exactly what he needed. A massive caffeine boost before he searched for his missing courier.
His courier.
That was what Portia had called Dizzie. She’d meant it as an insult.
She’d been wrong. Dizzie called to something deep and possessive in Killian. He couldn’t explain it. Wasn’t sure he wanted to. Not yet.
He wasn’t sure what he would do if his feelings were nothing but an unhealthy obsession with the girl who’d killed his best friend.
Tremaine Corporation security might have the skills and the tools to find her, but he couldn’t let that happen. She’d caught his attention and he wasn’t letting go. Not until he got to the bottom of this.
With the last of the coffee burning through his system, Killian continued to search his office. He could call the company, but that would bring attention that he didn’t want. No, better to keep searching.
The Turbosmith Excel was equipped with a state-of-the-art tracking system, designed to locate a stolen motorcycle in situations like this. Unfortunately, he’d installed the software on a tablet forever ago and never bothered to add it to his current phone. Why should he, when he didn’t ride anymore?
