Rose snorted, and finished her sip. “Sorry about the Columbia remark. I was so engrossed I didn’t even notice.” Though now that she had, it explained the growing pressure in her bladder. “I found something,” she told Thorne as she put her mug down. “Kennedy still has a partner on the inside. It’s either a new partner or he didn’t give this one up when he took his current deal to get out of prison. And it’s someone with WITSEC access, too.” She pulled up the trace log and angled the monitor slightly toward him. Though he glanced at it, she could tell he didn’tunderstand it like Keys would have. “They pulled Katy’s location three days ago. Her handler is dead.”
Thorne let out a low curse, looking at the screen with renewed vigor. With Rose’s permission, Keys had filled the Riley brothers in on everything about Rose and Oscar’s situation, including the fact that she’d done a switcheroo within WITSEC when she’d discovered her pregnancy.
“Is she safe?”
“I think so. They would have moved her immediately.” Rose reached for her coffee again. “I’ve been corrupting the data trail. Making every search for her location return garbage.” She took a large gulp, practically burning her tongue. “It’s temporary, but hopefully buys her time to get to a new secure location.”
“How long?”
“Days,” Rose shrugged. “Maybe a week if the insider is trying to be extra careful.ButI did leave a few trapdoors behind too, which means ifanyonemakes an inquiry into her location, I’ll know about it and be able to follow the trace back in real time.” At Thorne’s confused look, Rose elaborated, “I’ll be able to know who Kennedy’s partner is if he searches for Katy again.” She set the mug back down. “But that’s the better of the bad news. Kennedy knows I’m watching. He left me a calling card.”
Thorne pulled out the chair Keys had vacated three days ago and sat down. “Show me.”
She pulled up the post. This time he had no trouble understanding as he took in the photograph of the handler, the poison ivy, the blatant threat in a single line of text.
“He’s trying to flush you out,” Thorne said succinctly.
“Yes.”
“Are you going to let him?”
Rose looked over at the older man. His expression was exactly what she’d come to expect from him—steady and direct. She liked his no-bullshit demeanor, and could understand why the man had had such a successful military career in the Teams.
“No,” she told him honestly.
Thorne nodded once. “Then what do you need?”
Rose turned back to the monitors. Behind them, Oscar stirred on the cot, made a small sleepy sound, and then went quiet again. She listened until she was sure he was settled before she answered Thorne.
“I need to find out who the insider is before Kennedy realizes I’ve been salting his data.” She pulled up a new window, fingers moving. “And I need to do it without becoming visible myself.”
Thorne lifted a graying eyebrow. “Can you?”
She appreciated his genuine inquiry into her capabilities rather than making an assumption in either direction. He might not understand what it was she was doing or how she was doing it, and despite being fifteen years older than her, he seemed prepared to learn.
Unfortunately, this time Rose couldn’t make a boastful comment. “I don’t know yet,” she answered honestly. “But I'm going to try, and Keys is only a phone call away if I get stuck.”
Rose made to start again, but Thorne stopped her with a gentle hand on her wrist. “The damage has already been done. Go take a quick break. Get something to eat, take a piss, shower… Hell, listen to twenty minutes of a dirty smut book. Just step away for a minute. You need it.” Rose’s eyes flicked to Oscar, but before she could ask, Thorne added, “I’ve got him. Go. I won’t leave this room until you return.”
Rose bit her lip, debating the tempting offer. In the end, nearly four cups of coffee made the decision for her, and she left to use the bathroom. Thorne was right. Whether she continued working now or in twenty minutes, it wouldn’t make a difference.
Besides, somewhere Kennedy was impatiently watching a screen, waiting for Rose to surface, and she had no intention of giving him the satisfaction.
* **
Present
It felt like Keys had been gone far longer than twelve days.
He came through the door of the apartment at half past nine, looking like something the club had chewed up and forgotten to spit out. Twelve days of snatched sleep in hospital waiting rooms and his computer van’s passenger seat had carved new shadows under his eyes, of nonstop searches and feeling powerless, of burying the sadness and standing over fresh graves.
Jigsaw had even gone as far as to describe him as looking “gaunt”, and Keys did not doubt for a heartbeat that he had the appearance of a man who had been running on adrenaline and obligation for so long that his body had simply stopped registering the difference between functioning and surviving. His beard was past the point of needing trimming, and his glasses sat slightly crooked on his face but he was honestly too tired to fix them. His cut was dusty, his boots were scuffed, and there was an orange stain down the front of his white dress shirt that had long turned crusty from when he’d spilled his soda.
The sight of Rose waiting up for him was the best thing Keys had ever seen. He’d never had anyone to come hometobefore, and the knowledge that she was here, that she’d stood by him through the chaos, was heady. He never wanted to lose that feeling.
She crossed the apartment in four steps and stopped in front of him, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to look at him properly. She looked as exhausted as he felt—probably more so because she also had Oscar to take care of.
Reaching up, she straightened his glasses. “You look like shit.”
