Page 58 of Force At Third

And now all eyes are back on me.

I scowl at them. “Seriously? I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

“That would be a yes,” Dromida says as her phone chimes. She stands, pulls it out of her pocket, and thumbs through the screen. “Well, I’m needed at Mercy.”

“Now?” Francesca asks.

“Emergencies aren’t scheduled. I’ll call a cab.”

“Marks will take you,” I insist and look at my phone for the time.

He went to get some sleep three hours ago. I hate to wake him, but no one is leaving without security.

“Dad’s sending someone. Let the man sleep,” she says, holding up her phone. “Marks single?”

“He is.”

“Perfect.”

“He lives in Walton,” CeCe points out.

“Even better.” Dromida wags her brows.

* * *

After Abe personally picked Dromida up, the girls retired to the living room to watch whatever serial killer documentary CeCe was deeply invested in.

I open my laptop and sign in on all of Cora’s social media accounts to dig deeper into those following her, her followers, and yes, to read her messages.

It is insane the amount of information anyone will give to a new “friend,” making it much easier for the depraved and deviants to do whatever deplorable acts they may have planned.

With some of the software I have installed, I am able to use algorithms, which I still know little about, to sort location updates in specific words.

Knowing nothing about this “Janice” that Cora’s father is traveling with has us unsettled enough to send a man to watch over him, but now, knowing the financial issues they’re facing, specifically seeing the large sums of money that have been withdrawn, my gut tells me that we are missing something, and that something is huge.

While the program runs, I get up and make my way to the window, seeing that Rome and Leland are no longer on the back deck. My insides clench at the thought of what I could be doing right now if the lives of the people I care for were not in utter chaos. But damn, do I sleep like a champ after I have an orgasm “locked down.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid girl. Focus.

I blame Dromida and her prying. Yeah, that’s it.

After grabbing a bottle of water, I sit down at the table, stroke a few keys, and see that Cora has been in contact with an eighteen-year-old in California for months, under the guise of also being interested in Rutgers College.

The girl, Eleanor—her fucking name is Eleanor.

Eleanor and Allison Center were Chloe and Cecilia Shaw’s birth names. This motherfucker, I think as I quickly click on a profile, copy the link, and send it to Alice—aka EchoFury—with the message: Do your thing. See how she could be connected with Cora’s father, Joseph Parker’s girlfriend, Janice.

I send another message to Wren, who’s in the Dominican: Janice is now highly suspect.

This is the part I hate—the sit and wait, especially after today when who we believe is Center is going after Roman Hart. There is no time to let our guards down.

It’s almost midnight when I hear, “What the fuck!”

I jump up and hurry to the living room, where CeCe jumps up and storms toward me, shoving a phone in my face.

“What’s this?”

Marks slides across the hardwood floor and into the room, in boxer briefs, hand on his gun that’s holstered at his back. “What’s going on?”

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