Page 46 of Fatal Vision
“How can I help?”
His instinctive reaction was to shut down this conversation, send Connor back to DC. Whoever was taking out the men on the rescue taskforce that had saved Connor might also be after him.
Mind your manners, Shelby’s voice sounded in his ears.
“System diagnostics complete,” Vesper announced.
He might be foolhardy and stubborn at times, but he wasn’t stupid. Shelby was right; Connor was here and could help. Colton would be a moron if he didn’t use him. “I need to go into town and ask some questions. Can you stay here with Shelby? Keep an eye on her for me?”
Connor’s phone dinged with a text. He glanced at the screen and smiled. “Sure,” he said to Colton. “Take your time. I’ve got it covered.”
Colton slapped him on the back as he passed. “I’ll get you back to Sabrina as soon as possible.”
“Nah, it’s good.” The kid was reading his screen, the goofy smile growing larger. Yep, they were doing more than texting. “She’s just…well, you know.”
Connor was happy and that was good. He deserved some happiness after what he’d survived at the hands of 12 September.
As if Connor read Colton’s mind, he looked up from sexting with Sabrina and grabbed onto Colton’s arm. “I owe you man. You saved my life and got me the job with SFI. You know I’ll do anything to help you and Shelby.”
“Save it.” Colton stopped on the landing of the stairs. “You don’t owe me anything.”
Connor’s voice dropped a notch. “I almost died at the hands of those bastards. I would be dead if you, Shelby, and the taskforce hadn’t tracked them down and rescued me.”
“We’ve covered this a dozen times already, McKenzie.” Connor would crap his pants when he found out that three of the men on his rescue were now dead. Especially Evers. “You would have done the same for me. We’re square, Irish. All I need you to do is keep an eye on Shel for me while I do a little digging.”
The easy answer was that 12 September had sent the shooter to take revenge. But the easy answer was rarely the right one. 12 September wasn’t subtle—they didn’t pick off their enemies one-by-one. They blew them up, mowed them down, and then blatantly took credit for it.
Surely the shooter had had plenty of opportunities to take out Colton. Less so of Connor since the kid lived at SFI Headquarters, while Colton was always in motion, traveling, working, living in dive apartment buildings with little to no security. He was an easy target, so why hadn’t the killer come after him?
“You investigated for weeks after Shelby was shot and found nothing. What makes you think it’ll be different this time?”
Colton headed for the stairs. The dragon inside his chest had asked him the same question that morning. Was still, mocking his seemingly futile attempts to understand any of this.
The one thing different this time around was that the three of them were there, in Good Hope, together. Two of the taskforce members and the man they’d rescued.
Was it possible 12 September was watching their every move? Did they plan to take Connor, Shelby, and him all out in one fell swoop?
It would make sense if 12 September worked that way.
But the MO was all wrong.
He punched the security app as he hustled down the stairs, Connor falling in behind him. “Vesper, activate smoke detectors and carbon monoxide sensors.”
“Yes, Shinedown,” the sexy voice responded. “Smoke detector sensors and carbon monoxide sensors now activated.”
Salisbury greeted him at the bottom of the stairs. “Come on, mutt,” he said to him. “Let’s go outside before I leave.”
“I’ll take him out,” Connor volunteered.
And be on perfect display for whoever might be out there? Fat chance. “I got it. You check on Shel, show her how to use the app, would you?”
“Sure.”
His friend didn’t suspect a thing, and for a second, Colton wondered if he should come clean, tell Connor his suspicions. But if he was wrong—and there were still plenty of factors at play that could take the investigation in an entirely different direction—then he could cause his friend to carry even more guilt than he already did.
Connor was just coming out of the lingering depression and constant PTSD he’d suffered after his time at the hands of 12 September. They’d killed two members of his unit and tortured him for months. He was still obsessed with bringing down the entire organization.
All it took was one thing to trigger all of that again.
