There’s my Mikayla. So direct, I almost laugh. “True. You win. But, Mik…what happens if I tell you everything and you…decide it’s too much. That I’m too broken?”
“Everyone’s broken, Austin. No one’s life is perfect. Granted, most of us don’t cause or contribute to the death of a family member.” She shakes her head and curls an arm around my waist, resting her head on my shoulder. “I want to know all of it. I’m not going to run away. Or suddenly decide you’re not the man I know you are. But this isn’t the place. Help me clean up, then let’s go upstairs.”
She keeps saying I’m too good to be true. But she’s wrong. Mikayla Salim is the one who’s so perfect, I fear one day, she’s simply going to disappear.
Chapter Nineteen
Mikayla
“I killed my brother. I wasn’t the one to pull the trigger, but he died because of me.”
Austin’s words rattle around in my head as we put the pizza away. As we’re about to head upstairs, there’s a knock on the door, and in under five seconds, I’m hiding on the stairs while an armed and very lethal looking former Air Force officer checks my peephole.
“It’s all right, Mik. Just Clive and Ronan.”
He opens the door as I come around the corner and mutters, “A little heads-up might have been nice.”
“I texted,” Ronan says with a shrug. “Check yer phone once in a while.” Turning to me, he inclines his head. “Apologies, Mik. Didn’t want to be creeping around yer backyard without letting ya’ know we were there.”
“What exactly do you need to do?” This wall needs me to prop it up. At least that’s what I tell myself somewhere deep inside. I’m physically exhausted, and so very tired of being “on alert” all the darn time.
“We’ll be installing these.” Clive pulls a small, black device from his duffel bag. It’s no bigger than a pack of gum, and when he drops it into my palm, I stare back at him, confused. “What is this?”
Ronan grins and shows me his phone screen. With a live feed of…me. Well, the underside of my chin. With a frown, I thrust the device towards Clive.
“Ugh. No woman wants to see the herself from that angle. Doesn’t matter how secure she is in her appearance,” I say. “But where’s the power cord?”
“There’s solar-powered battery in there with twenty-four hours of backup juice,” Clive says. “So unless someone covers it up completely, it’ll keep recording. Sends signals back to the main receiver unit.” He pulls out a larger box—this one with a plug—and passes it to Austin. “This needs to go somewhere inside, preferably hidden and not in the dead center of the house.”
“This is like…movie-level stuff,” I say with a vague gesture at the equipment. “How…? This stuff isn’t reserved for like…the CIA?”
Ronan sends a meaningful look Austin’s way, and he curls an arm around my waist and waits until I meet his gaze. “Sweetheart, the CIA doesn’t even have shit like this. Wren—she works for Second Sight, but she moved to Seattle to be with Ryker—she’s a tech genius.”
“Shemadethis?”
“Her and Royce,” Ronan says.
My head is swimming. Too many names I don’t know. “Who’s Royce? I feel like I need a cheat sheet. Flashcards.”
The men all chuckle, and Austin plants a kiss to the top of my head. “You’re not the only one, Mik. When I went out to Seattle to give Ripper his Medal of Valor, shit. Trevor got almost everyone Dax, Ry, and Rip know together. They were afraid I was coming to arrest Rip and wanted to present a united front. Either that, or they were planning on killing me and burying me somewhere no one would have ever found me.”
The way he talks, he holds real affection for these men and women, but his words don’t reassure me.
“I came back to Fort Bragg and pulled every single one of their files. Just so I could put names and faces together.”
“Pritchard,” Ronan says, his voice taking on a hard edge. “Do we—?”
“Seriously?” Austin lets me go and draws up to his full height. His face is a mask of anger. “You think I’d do a damn thing to fuck things up for any of them? I went through back channels and then I buried every single file so deep, Wren and Ripper are probably the only two smart enough to find them. If you don’t trust me by now, why are you even here?”
Ronan holds up his hand. “Look, mate. Ya’ don’t work for Second Sight for long without bein’ cautious as fuck.”
“Sorry. It’s been a long ass day. I’ll set up the receiver. Anything I need to do besides plug it in?”
Blowing out a deep breath, Ronan shakes his head. “No. We’ll get out of yer hair. If Wren’s software finds anythin’, she’ll call. Oh, and Mik?” The young Irishman digs into his messenger bag and pulls out a box. “Austin said yer phone was destroyed. This is all programmed with yer old number—as well as mine, Second Sight’s, and Pritchard’s. Also, fully charged.”
I gape at him. “You bought me a new phone? I could have—“
“If ya’ feel that strongly about it, ya’ can talk to Dax about payin’ him back. But if we’re goin’ to protect ya’, we need to have a way to contact ya’. You’ll see and hear us movin’ around outside for about thirty minutes. We’ll text ya’ when we leave.”
