Kingston didn't like that answer. Not even close. "Sir, I have orders—"
"And I'm overriding them," Dylan snapped. "My office. Now."
There was no room for negotiation in his tone, and Kingston reluctantly moved in the direction of Dylan's little office cabin. I hadn't even been inside myself, but the way Dylan gripped my arm made it pretty damn clear I was going wherever he was going, no arguments.
One of the other armed men followed along with Kingston, but at a glare from Dylan, he stationed himself outside the cabin door rather than joining the three of us inside.
Dylan marched me around his desk and pushed me intohischair, then indicated for Kingston to take one of the guest chairs. I was so damn nervous my whole body was quaking, and I struggled to choke back another wave of nausea. What would these guys do if I projectile vomited everywhere?
"Why don't you explain to me what this is all about, Kingston?" Dylan suggested, hovering over the back of my chair like some kind of... Fuck. Like a pterodactyl. In my mind, he let out a screech of challenge to Kingston, and it made me smile.
The suited guy seemed all kinds of pissed off to be challenged like this, but he was powerless to refuse the questions.
"Sir, respectfully, this is to complete a job that Miss Duboise has had me working on for a number of months." His tone was frustrated as hell and his glare toward me scathing. What the fuck hadIdone to him?
The mention of Riley made my heart flip, and I noticed Dylan's hand tighten on the back of the chair, just beside my face.
Dylan let an awkward silence cloak the room for a few moments before speaking again, and I was quietly impressed at his ability not to squirm under pressure.
"Whatjobwas that? I don't recall her having any business in my camp."
Kingston's eyes narrowed. "It's—"
"If you say classified, I'll have to shoot you," Dylan said in such a casual tone he might as well have just complimented the other man's tie. "Need I remind you that nothing is classified from me?"
Kingston blinked rapidly, then backtracked. "From you, no. Fromher?" He shot me another accusing glare, and I swallowed heavily. Fucking hell, what had Blake gotten me mixed up in?
Or was this about me, somehow?
"Humor me," Dylan drawled. "You can blame me later."
The guy didn't look mollified in the least, but once again, Dylan wasn't really offering him an option to decline.
"I've been searching out a thief," he announced after a short pause. "Someone stole secure files from our facility. Miss Duboise tasked me and my team with recovering those files."
Dylan was so fucking still he could have been a statue.
I was confused as hell, but smart enough to understand the implication here. "You think I know who stole your files?" I exclaimed, shocked as hell.
Kingston sneered at me. "I know you're the one whostolethe files, Miss Lawson. Your own brother turned you in to us with evidence."
My jaw just about hit the fucking floor. "Wh-what?" My voice was a thready squeak. I tried to stand up, but Dylan's heavy hand on my shoulder pushed me back into the chair. It didn't stop me from trying to plead my innocence, though. "Dylan, that's not true. I wouldn't! I don't even know what files he's talking about!"
Dylan wasn't looking at me, though. His focus was locked on Kingston, even while his fingers bit into my shoulder.
"What evidence did her brother provide?" he asked the black-suited man, his voice giving awaynothingabout what he was thinking.
Meanwhile, my heart was racing so hard I felt like I was about to pass out or die or something. Sweat beaded on my spine and bile rose in my throat again. Fuck.Fuck. Now wasnotthe time to vomit.
Or maybe it was the perfect time…
"He gave us Miss Lawson's personal laptop. It contained traces of the same hacking software that was used to transfer the files from our server and then offload them to another device." Kingston raised his chin with confidence, my guilt already clear in his eyes.
I shook my head frantically. "That's circumstantial at best. How can you even prove it's my laptop? Blake could have given you his own computer and—" Suddenly a memory rolled through my mind like a fucking semitruck with its brakes cut.
A few months ago my laptop had gone missing. It’d disappeared right out of my bedroom overnight, and I lookedeverywherefor it. I’d even quietly suspected some of the household staff of being thieves. But then it’d reappeared, tucked halfway under my bed. Blake had called me an idiot and beat the shit out of me for being "careless" with my possessions, but I waspositiveI'd checked everywhere. Fuckingeverywhere.
"He set me up," I breathed in horror. "Blake fucking set me up."
