I looked to the woman standing beside Maddox, curious.Except for Maddox, I’d only met Eli’s team in passing, but I knew Wren was about my age, maybe a little older. She appeared completely unassuming—shorter than me, slight of build, her blonde hair pulled back in a stubby ponytail, no jewelry or makeup, wearing a fairly androgynous T-shirt and jeans.
I had the sense she could disappear in any environment she found herself in. I thought of the wardrobe selection I’d picked up when we went shopping—how, with a couple of changes, I could go from professional to casual. And I thought that if Wren had that wardrobe, she could be anything. Because beneath the unassuming exterior, I was pretty sure she was as tough as they came. There was a stillness in her, a quiet watchfulness that spoke of patience and strength—not the fragility she projected.
“Do you have a name for the data broker?” Wren asked.
“Not really,” Emmett said. “Aliases. Janus Vault and Glass Spire. He uses both. There may be others I haven’t found.”
Wren shook her head slowly. “Don’t know him.”
“Do you have an address?” Eli asked. “Is he close?”
“Close enough,” Emmett said. “Outside the city, but not far. Office park out past Buford.”
“Send me the address,” Eli said. “I’ll go check it out.”
“You mean we’ll go check it out?” I asked, straightening.
“No,” Eli said. “Absolutely not.” He shifted to face me, crossing his arms over his chest, as if his authoritative stance would make me give in without an argument.
“What do you mean, absolutely not?” I crossed my own arms over my chest. Two could play that game.
“We have no idea what we’re walking into.”
“We didn’t the other times I went with you,” I reminded him. “Those worked out.”
Eli’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “You almost blew up at that storage facility. Did you forget about that?”
I lifted my chin. “I got the phone.”
“Not the point,” Eli grumbled.
“Exactly the point,” I muttered back.
“Take Sylvie with you,” Emmett said. “It’s safe enough. It’s an office park in the suburbs, not midnight down by the docks.”
“They don’t have docks in Atlanta,” Wren said. “You know, because we’re inland.” She rolled her eyes at Emmett.
The side of Maddox’s mouth curled in a grin, but no one responded. Eli and I were still locked in a stare-off.
“You’re not leaving me here,” I said.
“You two are wasting time,” Emmett said. He shoved a piece of paper in my hand. “Here. Now Sylvie has the address. Go.”
“You’re not lead on this,” Eli said from behind me.
“I’m the one who knows where we’re going,” I said, picking up the pace before he could catch up and grab the paper from my hand.
From behind me, I heard Wren laughing.In an exaggeration of an adolescent whine, she added, “You’re not the boss of me.”
She had a point.
Neither of ustalked much as Eli followed the GPS directions to a run-down industrial office park north of Buford, well outside the city. We wound our way through the randomly curving streets of the office park,noting the weeds had grown between the asphalt and the curbs, and the number of offices withAVAILABLE FOR LEASEsigns in the windows.
“I think it’s this one,” I said as we pulled around an L-shaped building. “417.”
The numbers were at the top of the transom window above the door to a nondescript office with mini-blinds lowered and angled closed. No company name showed. Nothing but the street number.
I examined the scraggly bushes by the door and a faded advertising circular disintegrating in the mulch. “I don’t think anyone has been here in a while.”
