Page 107 of Tainted Love

“Oh, sure you do.”

“Which agency are you with?” I ask. “Let me see some credentials.”

“We’re not with any agency. Our interests are more personal.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific...”

The software halts, matching her face to one name: Lilah Anne Hart.

Deceased. Born in Madison, Wisconsin. Died in Madison, Wisconsin.

And yet… here she is.

“How’s this for specific, Bart?” she says, her tongue sharper. “Either you open this door and answer my questions right now or I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll kick your fucking teeth in.”

I raise my brow. “You talk a lot of smack for a dead girl, Lilah.”

She flexes her jaw in anger as I speed-read her file.

Her parents died when she was five, leaving her and her two brothers in the care of their ailing grandparents. No record of a home address, which is extremely strange…

They went through a lot of trouble to erase it from existence.

Why?

I look at the monitor again. “And the gentleman behind you must be Elijah, your also dead twin. Hello there.”

“Where is Fox Fitzpatrick?” she asks, cutting right to the damn chase.

Holy shit.

I cross-check their names against the master file — yeah, the master file, the one I cracked into to help Fox expose his former employer, only the deadliest criminal organization on the planet.

Snake Eyes.

The news was hard to miss that week. It all started with a dead presidential candidate and a kidnapped movie starlet. It ended with her in the hospital and several news outlets accidentally receiving the master file from an anonymous source. The FBI confirmed it a few days later: an underground organization of mercenaries exists and they’re just waiting to do your dirty work. Just name your price.

If that weren’t bad enough, anyone could be among them. Your child’s teacher. Your weird neighbor. The barista making your morning coffee. Even your representative in Congress might have ties to them.

The country has been a mess ever since.

And now, Lilah and Elijah Hart have come knocking on my door.

I scan their files again. Elite Snake Eyes agents. He’s a medic, for the most part, and she’s…

Ah, crap.

A chill of fear crawls down my spine. I don’t feel it often anymore, but it definitely makes itself known whenever Snake Eyes is involved and right now there’s two of them standing at my damn door.

“Who?” I ask, stalling.

“Fox Fitzpatrick,” she repeats. “We know you know him. We know you were with him at the hotel in Colorado. Just tell us where he is now, and I’ll leave your index fingers intact so you can keep tapping away at those keys.”

I stand up and grab my messenger bag off the floor. “I assure you, you are quite mistaken,” I say, rushing to unplug my laptop and shove it inside.

Again, her lips curl on her smug, little face. “That’s all right. Our mistake. We’ll just go ask your wife instead. Perhaps she knows where her old army buddy is.”

I freeze.

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