Page 68
Rook’s shadows exploded outward, scraping against the van’s interior. Ethan’s hand tightened on his.
“Options,” Thorn’s voice cut through the comms. “Silas, can you reach the server room?”
“Basement access is through the kitchen, but I’d need ten minutes for the biometric locks. The server room has retinal scan, fingerprint reader, and voice authentication.” Silas shifted position again. “I’ve already tested a simulation, and I can get through all of them without him, but bloody Ashford’s fifteen feet from the hallway. If he moves toward the kitchen, he’ll see me.”
“Abort,” Rook said immediately. “We’ll hit him at the office tomorrow night.”
“By tomorrow he’ll have destroyed everything and triggered the switch manually,” Ethan said. “Someone’s contacted him – perhaps it’s because of Pope’s sudden disappearance. That could be why he left his event early - he’s getting rid of any evidence now.”
Ethan studied the displays. “We need a distraction. Something to move Ashford away from his study for ten minutes.”
Rook already hated where this was going. He was getting to know how his mate’s mind worked.
“I’ll just ring the doorbell,” Ethan continued. “We pose as concerned citizens reporting suspicious activity at a neighbor’s house. He’ll either ignore it or answer the door. If he answers, we keep him engaged in conversation while Silas does what he needs to do.”
Rook was already shaking his head. “Nope. Absolutely not.”
“We’re running out of time, and that’s the most efficient solution.”
“The most efficient solution doesn’t involve putting you within stabbing distance of a man who traffics humans.”
Ethan turned to look at him. “Would you prefer I wait in the van while you handle it alone?”
Rook didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes.”
“That’s not how partnerships work, and he’s not likely to open the door to you alone.” Ethan squeezed his hand. “No disrespect, mate of mine, but you look intimidating on a good day. Ashford won’t try anything aggressive if he thinks I have backup, and I’m significantly less threatening than you are, which increases the chances of him opening the door. My presence makes the cover story believable.”
“I hate this plan.”
“Noted.” Ethan reached for the door handle. “Silas, we’re approaching the front entrance. Prepare to move to the basement when Ashford answers.”
“Ethan…”
“Trust me.” Ethan met his eyes. “Please. You’re going to be right there, and I’m not going to fight him. I’m just playing the role of a concerned neighbor.”
The issue was, Rook knew that Ethan’s confidence stemmed from having absolute trust in him… I can’t take that away from him.
“Ten minutes,” Rook said through his teeth. “If he so much as looks at you wrong…”
“You’ll eat him. Yes, I’m aware.” Ethan climbed out of the van. “Let’s go knock on a councilman’s door at two in the morning like completely normal citizens, which means breathing, Rook. You have to breathe like a human for ten minutes.”
They crossed the distance between the van and the house on foot. Rook’s shadows were desperate to expand into their full form and eliminate every threat in a three-mile radius. The neighborhood was aggressively normal with its manicured lawns, expensive cars in driveways, and cameras winking from every house corner. Cameras that would pick up Ethan, not Rook. That thought didn’t help.
Ashford’s house sat at the end of a cul-de-sac, a sprawling colonial with white columns and black shutters. Lights glowed in the windows of the first and second floors.
“Silas, status?” Ethan whispered.
“Repositioning. Ready to move on your signal.”
Rook stood slightly behind Ethan as they approached the front door, close enough to intercept anything while still maintaining the appearance of polite neighbors. His shadows coiled under the back of Ethan’s jacket, ready to expand at the first sign of danger.
Ethan pressed the doorbell. Chimes echoed inside the house, which to Rook’s ears sounded pretentious and far too loud for such a quiet neighborhood. He could hear footsteps approaching, and Rook tensed as the door opened.
Richard Ashford looked exactly like his publicity photos. He was in his late fifties, with light hair cut in a fashionable style, and the kind of face that launched a plastic smile every time he was in public. The smile was a little dimmed, but that was probably because of how late it was. With his loosened tie, his shirt collar unbuttoned, and a bead of sweat at his temples, he wasn’t fit for a photo op.
He looked at Ethan, then Rook and then back again, clearly wary. “Can I help you?” Ashford’s tone was polite, but his hand rested on the door as though he planned to slam it shut.
“We’re from the neighborhood watch,” Ethan said pleasantly. “We noticed some unusual activity at the Hendersons’ house across the street about twenty minutes ago. It looked like someone was walking around their backyard with a flashlight. We wanted to check if you’d seen anything suspicious before we contact the police.”
