Page 36 of Centurion

“Probably not. Give the stuff to Con, and he can determine what needs to be done. I want a briefing on what was in the pouch by nine in the morning my time.” Which was three in the afternoon their time. She nodded. “I’ll tell him the next time I see him.”

“Good. Sorry for the wake-up call.”

“No problem. Good night.” She hung up and slipped her phone into her pocket along with her earpiece.

She shuffled back to Con’s bedroom. He was propped up on pillows in bed with the sheet pulled up to his waist. She dropped the robe at the foot of the bed and left the slippers there, too. He lifted the sheet, and she slid in next to him. “There was nothing on the computer that couldn’t wait until morning. Who was on the phone?”

“Archangel. He said a courier would be dropping off what he found in Eisenberger’s residences.”

“At two-thirty in the morning? Why in the hell would they send them to your place this late?”

“Because you need the information?”

“Not my point. That puts you at risk.” Con frowned, and Ronnie lifted an eyebrow. She reached to the side of the bed and then spun, landing on his chest. The tip of the dagger that was concealed by the bed pointed at his throat.

“Again, you’re forgettingwhatI do andwhoI am.”

He looked from the blade to her before speaking. “Whatyou do, yes, I do keep forgetting that, but that’s not whoyouare.” Con moved the blade out of the way with the back of his hand. “Nice trick. Do you have a blade in every room?”

“Blade, gun, garrot …” She shrugged and placed the knife on the nightstand.

Con lurched up and dropped on his elbows over her. “Damn, that’s hot. How long do we have?”

Ronnie looked at the clock on the bedside table. “Twenty-five minutes.”

He moved her hair as he said, “What do you think we should do for that amount of time?”

“Sleep?” She batted her eyes innocently.

“Wrong answer.” Dropping down, he kissed her and moved her legs with his before entering her. She sighed at the sensation of being filled by him. As her legs wrapped around his body, she knew she was absolutely in deep with the man. She was into Conner to the point she’d let herself be vulnerable with him. And for once, she was okay with that. When he lifted, she cupped his face with her hands. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Keep me.” He gazed down at her. “Keep me, babe. I’m worth it.”

She nodded. “You are.” He groaned and dropped again to consume her with that mind-altering kiss. Again, that frenzied and fierce sensation of need zapped through her and pooled at her core. How could she ever give that up? How could she ever give Conner up? She knew in her heart she couldn’t. She prayed that whatever was between them would last.Please let it last.

CHAPTER 14

Justin King moved through the darkest part of the street in front of the second residence owned by Eisenberger. Thanks to Guardian, he knew where every digital camera in the neighborhood was. He’d just come from Eisenberger’s primary residence. The safe in that house contained a three-inch thick ringed binder with pages upon pages of negatives. From what he could make out, they were negatives of documents. The negatives and fifteen rolls of film that had not been developed were dumped into his bag, along with five different cell phones. For good measure, he swiped all the rest of the safe’s contents into the bag. He’d let the brains figure out what was important and what wasn’t.

Ducking through a hedge, he made his way to the back of Eisenberger’s secondary house. The garden behind the home was overgrown and poorly maintained. Justin went to the back of the house and found the utility panel he needed. Within thirty seconds, he’d deactivated the geriatric alarm system.

The lock took another minute, but only because it was so old and rusted Justin needed to let a squirt of oil work on the inner mechanisms before he could turn them. He used his hip to force the door open. It moved only a couple of inches. Justin used hispen light to see what was blocking the door. Shit. He put his shoulder into the effort and slid the stack of boxes that were in front of the door inward. Once it was open far enough, he slid through the opening and shut the door.

Shining his light across the room, he whistled. Ceiling to floor, there was nothing but stacks of boxes. He opened one and then another … and another. The boxes were filled with files. Justin moved through the kitchen to the hall. If he walked sideways, he could move between the boxes lining the hallway. Carefully, he moved from room to room. The house was filled with documents—millions of pieces of paper.

He found one spot that was cleared for a desk. There was a computer hook-up but no computer, nothing but an old Smith-Corona typewriter. Justin sat down in the chair and looked from left to right. There was no way he could clear out the documents in that house, and if Guardian was looking for something specific … Man, could you say needle in a hay warehouse? If that were a thing.

He pulled out his cell phone and pushed his brother’s number.

“Everything go okay?”

He could hear his nephews in the background, laughing at something. “No, not really.” Justin drew a deep breath. “I’m still at the second residence.” He gazed down at the floor and noticed the antique brass vent cover was not completely flush with the floor. “It’s literally filled with documents. Floor to ceiling in every room. Very little walk space.” Justin pulled his pocket knife out, leaning down as he spoke. He pried the cover away and used his penlight to see what was in the vent. “Well, hello, darling.”

“What do you have?”

“Hold on.” Justin removed the box and held the penlight as he opened the top. “I think it’s microfiche.” He thumbed throughthe pieces of film. “At least a couple hundred of them.” He closed the box top and set it in the bag he’d brought with him. “I’ll bring this out, but there’s no way I can clear this house. You’ll need a moving truck and five or six guys to make a minor dent.”

“You’re exaggerating, right?” Jason asked him.

---