Page 295 of Lodestar

“Call Aoife.”

“If it were as easy as that, I wouldn’t have asked to meet her.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m cell free at the moment.”

“Why?”

He pursed his lips at me. “Give your phone to me and I’ll call her. Assuming you have her as a contact?”

“Such little faith, sir,” I mocked, but I got to my feet, tapped Aoife’s name in my contacts list, and handed him the cell.

With a measured glance, he eyed the phone then accepted it. “Aoife? Who is this person?” His frown darkened at her answer. “Why aren’t you here? I need to speak with you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t want to deal with an intermediary. I want to talk to you, dammit.”

A couple minutes later, with gritted teeth, he disconnected the call. I held out my hand, waiting for him to pass it back to me, but he didn’t.

He dropped it to the ground then dug his heel into it until it shattered beneath the pressure.

“If you wanted to brick it, you didn’t have to go old school,” I drawled at the sight of the phone on the expensive carpet beneath us.

“The NSA has gotten their hands on some technology that I’m not even attempting to understand. What I do know is that no phone conversation is safe.”

“That tech has been around for years.”

“Yes, but the software that…” He rubbed his eyes. “As I said, I don’t understand it. I just know that they can listen in to any phone call now and they have a way of both storing and sorting through the conversations.”

Why did that sound exactly like the softwareandhardware Conor had adapted to listen in to his brothers’ calls so his da couldn’t accuse them of mutiny?

“They could piggyback off the TV unit, Mr. President,” I pointed out. “Anything with speakers and an internet connection is fair game.”

He cocked his finger at me and led me into another room off the suite. “That’s why I picked this place. It’s supposed to be a retreat. Only a TV and a vintage-era phone in the living room.”

As we stepped into the bedroom, I leaned my back against the door and shoved my hands into my pockets.

“Now that we’re somewhere more comfortable, sir, I think I should tell you what I know, and then we can figure out how to help you with your little problem.”

“How do you know I have a problem?”

My lips curved. “I’m going to put a stupid question like that down to anxiety, sir. You wouldn’t need to meet with your love child, a daughter with ties to the Irish Mob, while you’re in office and running for reelection if there weren't a situation in need of resolving.”

His nostrils flared but he tipped his head forward in assent.

“What you need to understand about what I’m going to share with you, sir, is that it’s so off the record, it might as well be saved on microfiche?—”

“So, why are you telling me?”

“Because we can stop your career from being destroyed if you facilitate our next actions.”

“I’m listening.”

“Good. You should know I’m an ex-CIA agent. While I was serving overseas, I started to believe there was a double agent working against us at the same time as I came across the looting of some artifacts, and to shut me up, I was offloaded into the trafficking arm of the New World Sparrows.”

"What made you believe there was a double agent?"

"I uncovered the looting first. Then, the double agent. Crates were being released for travel outside of the country and someone was signing off on them. Someone who'd conveniently been blown up in an air raid. That was as much as I uncovered before I was silenced too."

“You were enslaved?” he rasped, his bewilderment clear.

“I was,” I confirmed. “I almost died, but I’m a stubborndaughterof a bitch.” My smile was tight. “I got out and I determined that I’d be their downfall.

"Over the last few years, everything that’s been uncovered about the Sparrows has almost single-handedly been orchestrated by me. I’ve been the architect of their destruction, sir, and I won’t rest until they’re either dead or locked in a cell… I’ll accept either option.”

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