Page 42 of Forbidden Bonds
I grin. “You’re not really expecting me to give up my secrets here?”
He mutters something I don’t quite catch.
I’m busy, diving deep, following a thread that someone tried to erase. I tap into Chimera’s civilian comms grid, reroutingthrough proxies. I layer Cohen’s approximate biometric data, extrapolated from government records, over my search.
A map comes up. It’s broad. Not much chance of narrowing it down. But there are numerous known Salvation safe houses, and I mark them, along with any activity. I discount a few that have been quiet, but that still leaves a dozen possibilities. “All of these are showing heightened activity.”
“The non-dynamic sector,” Zeb says. “Makes sense.”
“Coordinating two, maybe three covert operations is possible if we want to hit them simultaneously. This many? Not a chance,” Woodrow says. “That sector is like a no-go most of the time. It would not get approval, even for a shot at Cohen.”
I flick another feed across the monitor, showing encrypted transactions bouncing across the under web. “Looks like someone is trying to get their hands on that black-market viral serum.”
“Good,” Woodrow says decisively. “Now we just need to lay the other bait. Zeb will take the lead on the operation, and she will go in with him. Rhett, we will need you here, keeping your eyes on the monitors.”
My hackles rise, and I swing my chair around to face the occupants of the room.
“Hold on,” I cut in. “She’s not going into that sector with Zeb. No fucking offense, but where my mate goes, so do I. And I can track my systems from anywhere. Real-time. Any-fucking-where. I’m going with her, where I can relay any relevant information in person.”
“Rhett?” Larissa doesn’t expose my secret. The bond vibrates with her determination to see this through, as well as her worry for me.
“You can’t go with her,” Woodrow says flatly.
“The hell I can’t?—”
“You’re not even trained,” Zeb says—asshole. He exhales. “This is irregular, risky.”
“We forget they are newly mated,” Ethan says. He’s not exactly the paragon of empathy, but I see something close to it, maybe resignation, in his eyes. “Separating them probably isn’t an option. He’ll tear shit apart. She will freak out. And if that happens at the wrong time, this could all come tumbling down.”
Lucian turns to me, and I already know what is coming. “Are you forgetting something, brother? A big fucking something.”
“The fuck,” I growl.
“Outside, really?” Lucian continues. “And as we have already pointed out, luring them here is not an option.”
Woodrow shifts slightly. “What am I missing here?”
“Are you going to tell them, or shall I?” Lucian asks. “Because they need to know what they’re dealing with.”
“Tell them,” Larissa says gently. Her eyes are filled with her earnest and unwavering support. “They need to know.”
“I’m agoraphobic,” I say bitterly. “I have issues going outside.”
Chapter Eighteen
Four hours later…
Rhett
Issues…
The SUV is only a few paces away. Old, battered, the kind of vehicle that won’t look out of place in the non-dynamic slums.
“We need to get them both out without detection,”Woodrow had said back in Lucian’s office.
“Not a problem,”Lucian had replied.“You think this is the first time I’ve smuggled people in and out of this building?”
And bodies. Sometimes in his line of business, you needed to move bodies.
