Fast.
“Might be in a message somewhere on those eight numbers,” Dalton said. “Why don’t we run a track on them? See if we get anything useful.”
“I doubt a track will come up with anything, but yeah, let’s do that,” I said. “Send them over to me, Jamie, I’ll get to it. The police database digs deeper into encrypted stuff than these online tools.”
“Will do.”
Andrew looked at his phone and stood suddenly. He frowned. “And now I have to go. Chelsea is…fuck…Chelsea needs me to…” He headed out of the large front room we used as an office.
“Under the thumb much.” Phil chuckled.
“Or led by his cock.” Jamie grinned. “One or the other.”
“Got to keep her sweet,” Cillian added. “No one wants trouble with their woman. Way more hassle than it’s worth.”
“That’s that then.” Finn shrugged. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see if any of the messages give us a clue on how to order a woman.” His jaw tightened. “Sick fucks.”
“I agree. Fucking bastards, I hope they burn in Hell.” I stood and ran my hands through my hair. “I’ll let you know as soon as it’s done.” I paused. “I’ve got to go. You guys okay here?”
“Sure.” Phil also stood. “I’ll take a spot for a while, keep an eye on things. Just got some work admin to stay on top of, and I can do that in the kitchen.”
“And I’ll be back later,” Jamie said. “Got to have dinner with the fam, keep them sweet. Don’t want to get knocked out of that will.” He chuckled.
“Have fun.” I turned and left the room, walked along the corridor that smelled of cheap perfume, then through the kitchen. “See ya, Trixie, have a good evening, be safe.”
“You, too, honey.” She waved without taking her concentration from the sauce she was stirring.
I strided out into the sunshine and turned the corner toward the front of the house. Suddenly I came nose to chest with a giant of a man.
“What the?” I stepped back. “Razor?”
“Yeah, what’s up, man?”
“Didn’t know you were out?”
He scratched the skull tattoo on his neck. “Yesterday.”
“And you went hunting for a cop?” I laughed and took in his beefed-up biceps covered in ink. The guy had clearly spent his six months locked up working out.
“Galahad. I came looking for Galahad.” He gestured over my shoulder.
“They’ve gone for the day, mostly.”
He eyed me. “The professor?”
“He’s not here. Woman trouble.”
Razor laughed, a deep thunderous sound. “I would put up with a bit of woman trouble, I can fucking tell you, it’s been a while since I had a pussy wrapped around my cock.”
“Got a woman in mind?” I asked, hooking my fingers into my belt and raising my eyebrows.
“A willing one.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Rape isn’t my jam.”
“Good to hear.” He’d been in for carrying an offensive weapon. Chances were he had one on him again now. Some people never learned.
But it wasn’t my problem if I didn’t see said weapon.
“So what do you want the professor for?” I asked.
