Page 14 of Deceive Me
“Surveillance. Opposite hill from Sydney’s window, twenty yards below the ridge.” A sharp glance at King and Saint brought their attention to her. She’d just lifted her hand to gesture for them to follow when Deacon appeared in the door.
“What?”
Dain filled him in. Elliot signaled her team.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Deacon barked.
She frowned. “Where do you think?” She literally squirmed, set to go, her body flooded with adrenaline and ready for the hunt. This was the lead they needed, that she needed, her first step in finding Mansa. And Deacon was holding her back.
His hard face reminded her that he wasn’t just a client or a dad, but also a warrior. And this warrior wasn’t happy, apparently.
“We need to go,” she insisted.
“No, they need to go. You stay with Sydney.”
“But…” There were five soldiers that could stay. “That’s my team. Let me do my job, Deacon.” Let me protect you all.
He gripped her arm, his hand wrapping all the way around until she felt the pinch of digging fingers underneath. “Your job is here, with Sydney. Or did you forget that? Fionn!”
Hell no. She was not handing her authority over to Mr. Playboy. “I’m protecting your daughter by investigating a threat.” She needed to be out there doing what she did best, seeing the evidence with her own eyes, finding the clues, uncovering the slightest lead that would take her to her father’s doorstep. She was the one with the intel, the one who knew the target better than anyone else. Why were they stopping her?
Because you screwed yourself, remember? Deacon doesn’t know how valuable you are.
“Elliot.”
When she glanced at Dain, he shook his head. She glared back at him. When Fionn arrived, she kept her gaze on Dain as she repeated the information he needed.
“Sniper?” Fionn asked, his voice low enough that Sydney couldn’t hear them across the room.
It was Deacon who answered. “I don’t think so. She was right in the window and he didn’t fire. Take King and Saint to check it out.”
Fionn jerked his chin in acknowledgment and gave them a wide berth as he jogged toward the stairs. Instinctively Elliot pushed forward to follow him.
Deacon didn’t let her go. Elliot clamped down on the urge to break his fucking fingers.
Deacon leaned in, his brown eyes darkened to near black the closer he came, his irises taking over her world, his gravel-filled voice vibrating deep inside her. “You are my daughter’s last defense; if anyone gets through us, then they have to get through you. Keep that in mind, Elliot—it’s the only position that matters on this op. So don’t fight me again. You might not like the instinct it stirs up.” His smile took on a feral edge. “Or maybe you will.”
Shock sizzled down her spine. “What did you say to me?”
“You heard me.”
Without another word, he turned to follow the team—her team. Elliot stood, frozen, until small fingers gripped her hand. Shaking fingers. “Elliot?”
Guilt surged in Elliot’s chest. Yes, her first instinct had been to verify Sydney’s protection, but it had also been to leave the child there.
She dropped to her knees instead. “I’m here.”
Green pools of worry stared up at her. “What’s going on?”
For a moment Elliot was lost in the far too innocent depths of Sydney’s eyes, eyes that reminded her of her own distant past, when she’d had a mother who loved her enough to die for her, a mother she’d trusted to take care of her. Just like Sydney trusts me.
“Everything’s okay, baby. I won’t let anything happen to you.” With a quick scoop she gathered the little girl into her arms and stood. “Come on.”
The sound of boots on the stairs faded as the team left through the back of the house, but she refused to dwell on it any further. She had a job to do—she had to trust her team to do theirs.
She’d have to find some other way to get to Mansa before he got to them.
6
