Page 29 of Deceive Me
Chagrin turned to masculine pride. “Five and a half months.”
“Know what the baby is yet?”
“No, damn it. Livie says she needs something in her pocket to control me for the next few months.”
“She’s probably right. Men like us can drive a woman crazy when she’s pregnant.” Jules had complained loud and long about his overprotective bullshit—not that she called it that. He couldn’t help grinning about it now.
“Damn straight,” Dain agreed. “Not that it’s gonna change. We’ve been married almost eleven years—you’d think she’d be used to it by now.”
They shared a look full of mutual understanding. Deacon and Julia had dated in high school, married straight after, and stayed together till her death. Their marriage had lasted almost a decade and a half. Their eighteen-year-old mindsets had grown, matured, but some things didn’t change. The protective nature of an alpha male was definitely one of them.
When Jules had died…fuck, the pain. Knowing he couldn’t protect her, could do nothing but hold her as the cancer slowly stripped her away from him. He’d spent days, weeks shaking with the need to fight an enemy that couldn’t be touched. And then, so fast, she was gone. Her father, a general who’d rarely been home, had arrived drunk and ranted over her casket about Deacon’s inability to keep his daughter safe. For a while Deacon had thought the old man might be right.
That only made him more determined to protect Sydney from any and all threats—including this latest one. But to protect her, he had to discuss it, and he and Dain both were in avoidance mode. Probably because they both felt helpless.
“Any developments from the intel?”
Dain turned serious immediately. “No. The trigger of the alarm seems random, no patterns, accompanied by nothing on camera, no indication of what set the system off, nothing on diagnostics. Nothing on radar. Just…nothing.”
“How do we know it’s not a malfunction?”
“I can’t assure you of that. We simply have to wait and see if it happens again. All we do know is that all readings are normal.”
That was impossible.
“What about hacking?”
Dain’s mouth twisted in a grimace. “My thought as well, but your friend over at GFS assures me the software is intact, no sign of intrusion.”
And Sheppard knew her stuff. So no cyberattacks, and seemingly no physical attacks. They were missing something big-time.
“So let’s go with the worst-case scenario and say this was an attempt to penetrate, even if we can’t explain how he or she did it. Who’s behind this?” They both knew it wasn’t Mansa—the man wanted Deacon’s head on a spit, but he wouldn’t dirty his hands with anything but the final kill. Deacon wasn’t aware of anyone locally who could do the job this seamlessly.
“Whoever this was didn’t just get inside our guard,” Dain said, pushing rough fingers through the strip of dark hair over his head. “He bypassed cameras, security, even Fionn’s and Elliot’s presence along the perimeter. And yet he didn’t come inside.”
“Taunting us.” Psychological warfare—with his daughter as the target. The knowledge that next time might not be a mere taunt wound him up in knots. “Someone connected to Mansa. The question is, how?”
“Could be as simple as an anonymous bank account, but I don’t think so.” Dain reached to a side table to pick up a file folder. He flipped it open to scan a page. “I shared this with the others just a little bit ago. Mansa’s secretive to the extreme about his inner circle. We do know he keeps a team of bodyguards, but they’re rotated regularly, probably to avoid any one of them being susceptible to bribes.” He handed Deacon the open file. “But since his son’s death, there’s been some chatter about Mansa acquiring a new right-hand man.”
Deacon narrowed his eyes before glancing down at the report.
“He’s known only as Kivuli.” Dain jerked his chin at the file Deacon held. “The name means ‘shadow’ or ‘ghost.’ Not much is known about him, but we managed to track down a little information. People say he’s able to get in and out of anywhere without being tracked, without showing up on surveillance. And once he’s in…” Dain cleared his throat. “He’s meticulous, efficient, and when Mansa requires it, deadly. Mansa’s own personal assassin.”
Deacon went back to the beginning of the report and started reading in earnest. The details made his gut churn. This man might be coming after his four-year-old daughter? God. “Dain…”
The team lead’s voice dropped a notch, going quiet. “The thing to remember, Deacon, is that Mansa is on a personal mission. He wants his hands on you, not Kivuli’s. He’ll be sending his assassin after us, not you.”
“That’s not exactly good news.” Despite the fact that Sydney was priority, he didn’t want to lose any members of Dain’s team. The decimation of his own had been almost more than he could handle.
The knowledge that Elliot would be in that line of fire? He had a hard time breathing as the weight of it settled on his chest.
“So we can’t see him, can’t track him, can’t stop him—presumably.” He glared at Dain, knowing it wasn’t the man’s fault but unable to stop. “What do we do?”
Dain remained calm despite the edge in Deacon’s voice. “Nothing right now. Until Sheppard can give us more or we find something on our own, we check every alarm that sounds, we stay ready, and we stick to the plan.”
“Will security be weakened by constant triggers?” Because if there was one, he had no doubt there would be more.
“No, thankfully. And no doubt Kivuli knows it. The goal of a series of alarms would be to wear down our ability to stay alert, push us off guard. He won’t succeed.”
