Hawk
I needed answers, not a bunch of nosy questions. Walking down the hall, I knocked as I opened the door to the Keys’ computer lab.
He hadn’t always been as reclusive. It sort of happened slowly over time. He used to go on runs with us, but not as many. Then he was needed more behind the screen. He still partied with us for a while, but then even that started to decline. One day, it occurred to me he never came out anymore. I didn’t want to press him and he was fine just working behind the scenes. Though I wondered if he was okay.
“Morning, Prez,” he said as he leaned to grab a ream of paper from the printer. “I’ve been reading for a while this morning, but so far, there’s nothing to help us. There was aninterestingchat on her new phone last night, though.”
“Her new one? Already? Where’s that?” I asked, sorting through the stack of papers as I took a seat.
“Toward the back,” he said, clearing his throat before he turned back to the screen.
It took me a few lines to realize who was talking. “This was last night?”
“Mmhmm,” he said before leaning closer to his screens. “Oh, shit.”
“What?” I asked, looking over.
“New text.”
My eyes scanned it and my chest rose and fell with deep breaths. I wanted to gouge his eyes out, but reminded myself he was doing what I asked. “Turn that off.”
He nodded, tapped a few keys, and the texts were gone. “Want me to keep the line open for you?”
“Yes, but don’t fucking read them. Not for now. I want a print out daily.”
Pulling another page from the back, I looked at the date and time stamp. It was yesterday from the old phone. She and Klara texted a lot… about me.
But nothing suspicious. It was just two women gabbing about a guy. A guy that she thought didn’t want to touch her.
Those texts were almost comical, cute even. Though I wish she didn’t think that. She was too pretty and too powerful to be second-guessing herself over me.
But the ones that just came over on the screen, the ones she was actively sending while I sat there and Keys fucking read alongside me, were depressing and a little insulting. She wasn’t crying because she was homesick. Well, maybe that, too. But she was crying because she thought I was fucking a bunny in the basement while she was upstairs. She thought I didn’t want her, and now she was asking for advice on how to broach the subject of some rules for us to coexist.
Was that the type of man she thought I was? And why did I care so much what she thought? I shouldn’t give a fuck, and I didn’t want to, but she had to know I wouldn’t break my word. Hell, the only reason we were married was because even the word of my father was too important to break.
“You didn’t see anything suspicious? No coded conversations?” I asked.
“Mostly girly shit with this Klara person, a few texts about work and shifts, an occasional hello from her brother. That’s it.”
“Nothing with her father? And what did the texts with Niko say?” I asked, shuffling through the papers.
“Like, hello, back in town. See you at the restaurant. Or hello, where are you? You were supposed to be here an hour ago. That was the day you went up.”
“That’s it?”
Keys nodded.
“Maybe she has another phone. Or maybe they only talk in person,” I said, pondering aloud.
“Well, tracking her movements with this, too, she mostly was at the restaurant. She worked long hours. And she spent a lot of time in this one area of their house either late at night or super early,” he said, clicking a few times then pointing to the screen. “And I cross-referenced the numbers we have on file for the Petrov’s and they mostly are all ships passing in the night besides the occasional meal together and a party.”
“What party?” I asked.
“Some big time investor in New York. Looked him up, not sure he’s in with them, maybe a close personal friend. But a few other families seemed to be there. Including–”
“The Martinellis,” I interrupted. I’d done a basic search while I waited on Keys so I knew what the head of the family looked like. Leaning in closer, I said, “That’s not his wife.”
Keys shook his head. “Nope.”
