Page 33 of Command and Control: GHOST Operative

Vincent chuckles, shaking his head. "You aren't getting Internet access anytime soon, Angel Face."

Sitting up straight again, I scoff, staring at him with my mouth hanging open. "You said house arrest. People on house arrest get the Internet."

Vincent's hand slides higher this time as it flexes against my thigh. "Most people on house arrest’s Internet activity doesn't bring a team of mercenaries to their door in the middle of the night, Jules." His eyes are back on the road now, but I feel like he's still watching me. "And I've worked really hard to make sure no one knows where GHOST is located. I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you bring someone to my fucking front door."

That actually shuts me up. Because while I was able to find out a lot about GHOST, outside of being housed somewhere in the enormous state of Alaska, I never did figure out exactly where it was located.

"So you're telling me no one knows where your headquarters are?" Even though I know I'm the only one who's ever made it into their system—with the exception of one other person whose trail I've seen a time or two—I still find it hard to believe that, after being around all these years, no one has their freaking mailing address.

"The location of GHOST is limited to a handful of people I trust implicitly." Vincent rocks his jaw from side to side as an odd expression rolls over his face.

But it’s gone before I can try to identify it, quickly shuttered back behind his everyday glower. I rub one temple,pressing at the headache beginning to form behind my eyes. "So your plan is to hold me hostage in an Internetless room at GHOST headquarters until you figure out who the man that showed up on my balcony was?"

"No."

I wait for him to elaborate, but Vincent doesn't say another word.

I open my mouth to ask yet another question I probably won't get a whole answer to, but before I can say a word, he's punching at the screen on the dash. A second later a phone starts to ring through the speakers. A man answers almost immediately "What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to update the cleaning crew. Let them know there's another package on the south side of the retention pond. That's probably where they want to start so it can be collected before the sun comes up."

"Got it." The man on the other end of the line is all business, but his voice is deep and smooth. "Anything else?"

"What's the ETA on my flight?"

"They're fueling up now and should take off within the next twenty. They’ll stop for fuel in Iowa and should be to you by six hundred hours.”

"We'll be there waiting." Vincent disconnects the call and I stare at him.

"You’re not even gonna say goodbye?"

He doesn't acknowledge my question, just makes another call. Again, it's answered almost right away by another deep voiced man, but this one is a different sort thanthe one before.

"Vincent, fancy hearing from you again."

I have to work hard to hide my smile at the way Vincent's jaw starts to tick at the man's casual and friendly tone.

"I need you to escalate your access of Julieanne’s system. A team was sent to her house tonight and I need to know who sent them."

"Jesus Christ." The man sounds genuinely worried. "Is she okay?"

This time I just let my smile happen, because I feel a little bad for this guy. Vincent is being clipped and sour with him and the guy’s being nothing but friendly. So I lean forward, smile still in place as I say, "I'm fine, thank you."

The line goes silent. A few seconds tick past before the other man finally says something. "Julieanne, I presume?"

I open my mouth to respond, but Vincent's hand finally lifts from my thigh to clamp across it, sealing off my response. "Who she is, is none of your fucking business. Your business is finding out who showed up and why they were sent there."

I roll my eyes Vincent's way because I really honestly can't believe this is how he talks to his team. It's one thing to be professional and in charge, but he might be taking it a little too far.

Finally, the man who is only identified by the number three in Vincent's phone, replies. "Got it."

This time it's not Vincent who disconnects the call. The line goes dead, and I smirk behind Vincent's hand. "I think he just hung up on you." The words are all garbled but I know Vincent understood them.

Vincent's hand leaves my mouth, and I expect it toleave my body entirely, but it drops right back onto my thigh, gripping tight like he thinks I'm gonna fucking jump out the door the second he stops. No thank you. I've reached my kill count for the day and have no desire to end up in some other bad-ish guy’s blacked out SUV. Especially since the other guy wouldn't just be bad-ish. He would likely bebad, bad.

"His job is to talk to me, not you." Vincent sounds a little more than irritated over number three talking to me, and that circles me back to my earlier concerns.

"So you're not only going to lock me in a room with no Internet access at GHOST’s headquarters, but you're also not going to let anybody there talk to me?" The sound that comes out of me is something between a scoff and a disbelieving laugh. "Because this is starting to sound less and less like you keeping me safe and more and more like a kidnapping."

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