Page 29 of Fox and Nitro
“Yeah, I don’t quite have the answer to that just yet. I have the roundabout location. Gimme 24 hours to pinpoint the exact address.”
“What the - actually, you know what? Don’t worry. We’ll wait.” Marx picks up the antacids, shakes a couple into his palm then throws them back, swallowing them down without chewing. “Wire, how are you getting on with the guy you were looking into?”
Wire fiddles around with something on his laptop then looks behind Marx, a photograph of a bearded man projected on the wall.
“Matthew Thompson.” He looks at me and Nitro. “You were right. Matthew Thompson, dishonorably discharged after holding the Commanding Officer role in the Seals for five years. If anyone has the ability to get his hands on the Dropmire bug, it’s this guy.”
Marx runs a hand down his face, while Rhodie curses under his breath. Everyone around the table except the women, have all served. We all know what this means. Fucking trouble.
“Any idea who he’s working for?” Rhodie asks, chin resting on Chewy’s shoulder as he holds her tightly to him, probably to calm himself.
“Do you need me to get Chomper for you?” She quietly asks him, looking at him with soft eyes. Rhodie shakes his head and presses a kiss to her temple.
“I’m still digging brother. As soon as I know, you’ll know,” Wire answers, eyes never leaving his laptop.
Marx blows out a breath. “Switch, what’s happening with Hitchens’ wife?”
My eyes land on my brother and he’s looking rough. He may have gotten off an overnighter at the emergency room, so I’ll cut him some slack.
“Slow. Fucking slow. Almost no movement at all. I’ve been spending time with her and the girl while her piece of shit husband is on shift, outside of the house, at the park, McDonalds, that sort of thing. She’s desperate to leave but thehome has cameras and she’s terrified that he’ll notice something is up.” He runs a hand down his tired face. “She’s beginning to trust me, so I guess I’ll just keep working on her.”
“Is there any way you can find out what type of cameras are in the home?” Gus asks, sharing a look with his brothers.
“You think you can help?” Switch asks, perking up.
“Depends on the system,” Jules counters.
“If it’s one that we’ve worked with before, we could hack in and put it on a loop for a set amount of time whenever he’s on shift. That way she’ll have time to start squirreling away items she and the girl will need when we get them out of there,” Tav answers.
“Can you do all that remotely?” Savage asks, looking impressed.
The Tombs all share a look before Blanche clears her throat, “If it isn’t, I’ll go in. A woman will look less suspicious than any of you men, and I have experience with cameras with my PI work.” Tav looks around the table, a proud as punch look on his face that his Ol Lady is badass.
Marx nods slowly, face stoic. “It’s a good plan. Keeps everyone safe for the moment and gives Mrs Hitchens time to get her affairs in order, so to speak. Once they’re free we’ll send them to the Keep where they will gain new paperwork for their new lives. The timeline’s not ideal for her or the kid, but it’s not like we can kidnap her or anything.” Marx looks around the table. “Chewy, get us that location. Wire, keep digging.”
“What about Pops? He’s the only reason I came to Church,” Vi says, looking spitting mad.
“Miss Candice is working to get Pops’ offenses thrown out, we don’t need this shit to go to court. Pops is too fucking unhinged for that to go well. Sorry, Tombses,” Marx adds at the end.
“Why? We all know what Pops is like.” Gus grins.
“Right. Church over. Get outta here and get some rest because we all know it won’t last long before all hell breaks loose.”
Chapter 11
Jasmine
Iease myself into my chair at my desk and shake out my hands. Things were a little achy this morning when I first woke up, but I did my gentle stretching, took my meds and once I get this coffee into my system I’ll be feeling on top of the world. It’s amazing what a day of rotting will do for a woman. I feel almost as good as new, and if I’m honest I just presume the aches are part of being 32. Ten years ago I could dance all night in heels. Now I throw my back out from sleeping wrong.
I take a sip of my coffee, my eyes closing as I savour the warmth as it goes down.
“What are you doing?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to savour the last moments of peace I’ll get before the excitement of the day kicks in, but I know I’m fighting a losing battle.
“Misssss Jassssmmmiiinneeee, I’mmmm taaalking toooo youuuuu,” the voice sings, much, much louder than before.
Letting out a sigh I open my eyes, placing my “Worlds Special-est Teacher” mug on my desk. I teach SPed, so the mug makes me laugh.
