Mount: Where the hell are you?

V: Still waiting on the package.

Mount: Where the hell is she?

V: Inside.

I pull up the app on my phone to double-check the location of the tracker built into Keira’s necklace, which surprisingly, she hasn’t tried to remove with bolt cutters yet. Maybe she realized its utility when we were able to find her in her apartment.

Or maybe the idea of bolt cutters hasn’t crossed her mind yet. That’s probably the more likely answer.

The beacon shows she’s still in the building, but not in her basement office. I manipulate the app to give me a better view of the building. Technology is a magical thing, because now I know she’s in the restaurant.

I glance at the time. It’s almost seven thirty.

Snatching my second cell off the desk, the one I use to communicate with Keira and no one else, I shoot her a text.

Mount: You need to be on your way out the door in two minutes or V will be in to collect you.

I wait to see some indication that she’s read the text, but there’s nothing.

Fuck two minutes. I don’t wait for anyone, and Keira should have been home hours ago, as far as I’m concerned.

Switching phones again, I give new orders to V.

Mount: Go up to the restaurant. Find out what’s keeping her and escort her down. I’m done waiting.

V: Will do, boss.

Mount: Let me know when you have her secured and are on your way back.

After my conversation with J, and the suggestion that Keira has become a weakness that others will surely notice, I’m even more on guard. The car that V drives her to and from work in every day has bullet-resistant glass and is armor plated. It’s heavy as fuck, which is why I never drive it. I value speed, power, and aesthetics, and have an extensive collection of both supercars and American muscle. I don’t discriminate; I just collect them all.

Someone would have to have a death wish to try to take me out. I know the cartel is unhappy, but I also have information that would destroy them from the inside out, leaving them struggling to pull themselves together as an organization for years. I’m not stupid. I don’t make a move without considering all the consequences.

Or, at least, I never did until her.

J was right about one thing. Keira is different. She fights me at every turn. Her submission is never certain, but when it’s given, it’s that much sweeter. Her body burns as hot as the fire in her eyes, and it’s that inferno I’m addicted to.

Fuck.

J’s right. I need to get my shit together and figure out how to compartmentalize like I always have. Keira’s presence can take over my personal life, but my business requires my full concentration.

I need to do a full security sweep and make sure that no one has taken advantage of my momentary distractedness. Everyone in my organization needs their files updated to ensure they haven’t developed any weaknesses that would allow someone to turn them against me. And it needs to happen now.

I shoot a text to J with the order, and get a quick response.

J: Good thinking, boss. Who do you want to use?

We have two investigators who would rather fall on their sword than miss a single piece of information. Their loyalty has been proven like everyone else’s, one more recently than the other. The third investigator who missed Brett Hyde’s former marriage certificate has been forcibly retired.

Mount: Use them both. Independently. I don’t want them to know they’re both on the job. Send every updated file to me. I’m reviewing them personally.

J: Yes, sir. I’ll get it going.

As soon as I’ve turned away from my desk, my phone buzzes again with a text, and it’s not the phone I used to send a message to Keira.

V: She’s meeting with some guy. You want me to get her or wait?

The fuck?

I hit the button on my desk to bring my monitors out of their hidden compartments and pull up the camera feeds of Seven Sinners restaurant.

I zoom in on the booth where I see Keira’s fiery red hair and the man seated on the opposite side. He’s reaching across the table, like he wants to grab her hands, but she pulls hers back and tucks them in her lap.

I respond to V.

Mount: Who the fuck is this guy?

V: Don’t know.

And I know V sure as hell won’t ask anyone because he hasn’t spoken in over a decade.

I grab a screenshot of the guy’s face and shoot it to J.

Mount: I need a name and background on him. Now.

J: On it, boss.

My second-in-command’s computer skills are off the charts. After what I paid for an MIT education, they should be.

It takes less than three minutes before I get a response.

J: Check your email.

I pull up the secured app, and each word I read pisses me off even more.

My phone vibrates with a new text.

V: You want me to get her?

Mount: No. I’ll handle this myself.