Page 95 of Sweet Deception
Darren’s angry, resistant energy radiates off him, so I stride toward the presentation display until I’m standing right beside Rory and begin to elaborate on all the thoughts forming in my mind.
I outline the entry points and equipment requirements, carefully weaving in the extra time and access I’ll require for my own plan without raising suspicion. I’m in my element—where I can be precise, logical, technical.
When I finish explaining, I find the men watching me with new interest. “What do you think?”
Shane leans forward, the previous suspicion on his face replaced by something resembling respect. But instead of responding to me, he folds his hands and says, “Rory?”
“She’s right.” Rory rubs his chin while his eyes remain trained on the screen. “I think it could work.”
Excitement inflates my chest. I could bounce all the way up to the ceiling.
For some reason, having the tech genius’s stamp of approval gives me more confidence in the good work I do. And more to the point, with Rory’s support, the buy-in of everyone else in the room will probably follow, which means, after a hundred dead ends, I’m finally one step closer to finding Lucy.
I wish I could call Maya and tell her what’s going on.
My eyes search for Darren’s. His expression catches me by surprise, pride and fear warring in his blue irises. His hands are clenched so tightly, veins stand along both his forearms.
I have a strong impulse to go over to him, but before my feet move an inch, I witness a silent exchange between him and his father. Donal’s slight headshake meets Darren’s defiant stare as decades of understanding pass between them.
Donal is the next one to speak. “Your skills are impressive.” His tone is calculated. “I’m glad you’re on our side.”
His careful words hit me like a challenge. Donal doesn’t trust me or my intentions. That’s abundantly clear. And his mistrust strikes straight at my heart. Because he’s right.
The same way these men don’t care about Lucy, I don’t care about their main objective. They’re using me, and I’m using them. And that’s all there is to it.
Until I glance at Darren and realize that I’m playing myself.
For me, this may be about Lucy, but I have more to worry about now than when I first ventured down this crazy path. Somehow, I have more to lose than just Lucy’s life or my own. And if I refuse to reckon with that, I’m a fool.
Still, I meet Donal’s gaze without backing down. “I know time is of the essence. When do we move?”
Chapter Thirty-Five
We make it to the Red Hill operations base just before dawn.
Donal came to get us around eleven the evening before, and by the time we’d hashed and rehashed the plan and loaded up into armored vans, it was approaching three in the morning. A two-hour drive from the city to the target location followed.
Rory managed to pinpoint the vicinity of the base—about ninety minutes northwest of Philadelphia, almost in the middle of nowhere. The multi-story industrial building is situated at the edge of what looks like a defunct manufacturing plant.
Most of the property appears dilapidated as we approach from the shadows in our all-but-completely camouflaged vehicles, taking our positions along the perimeter of the factory grounds.
The building Darren and I will infiltrate sits dead ahead.
Usually, I’m pretty good under pressure, but truthfully? I’m more than a little apprehensive about going in there even though I know Darren will be with me. The place is reminiscent of a horror movie set.
The plan is simple.
Based on Rory’s long-range tech imaging, he’s triangulated the most likely location for the server.
Finn and his squadron will create a distraction at the front of the property, drawing Red Hill fire and attention away from the back, while Rory uses his technological skills to hack the electrical systems from out here and create a secondary diversion that’ll cover Darren and me as we hightail it inside.
The property sits on an incline about one thousand feet away from a polluted pond that we can smell from here. Even in the dark, I can tell that thing is a cesspool of rot.
Cian’s in the driver’s seat of our caravan, Rory beside him and furiously typing on a laptop he built himself. Darren and I are hunched by the door, ready to rip it open and run toward the water as soon as we get the signal.
Bisecting that acrimonious pond down there is a small dock. A large drainage pipe opens up just next to it. Based on the blueprints of the compound we’ve all studied in these past few hours, that pipe leads straight into the building’s basement. Considering the stench wafting our way, I can’t say I’m eager to use it.
Once we’re in the basement, we’ll navigate up to the main floor of the building, which appears to be an all-concrete loading dock lit with floodlights and heavily guarded by Red Hill soldiers. I can make out their AK-47s from here.
