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  “Yes, please.”

  “There’s too much data to search through by hand. I set a search to work through it and return items that fit certain parameters. Most of the information is coming back on front companies we’ve already looked into. The chime means a new-to-the-search company has been flagged.” He didn’t look at her, but was already scanning away at his computer.

  “Why haven’t we looked at this one yet?”

  “Because it hasn’t been operational.”

  “What is it?”

  “The company name is just Greenworks, no description or history. They don’t even have an office or a telephone number. Or . . . they didn’t.” He spoke slowly, his brows a dark slash across his brow.

  Tori didn’t want to distract him, but she also wanted to know what the hell was going on. She got up and circled the table, peering over his shoulder as windows flashed across his screen so fast she couldn’t tell what they were.

  “Are you actually reading those?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She perched on the windowsill, watching him more than the screen. On average, he spent three seconds on each page of information. Some appeared to be invoices, others scraps of paper or e-mails. Every couple of minutes he’d grab a bit of text and take it to a browser and run a search. The rate at which he processed everything was astonishing. He really was amazing.

  After a while, her attention drifted from the screen to the man. How was it he’d been produced in an environment where he wasn’t wanted—and still had turned into an incredible human being? She’d often thought it was the nature of her birth that led to her lifestyle of danger and fast cars, but with Emery, it was different. He’d turned from the natural path of his life to become something better.

  Part of her wanted to look up his family and make sure they realized just how incredible their son was. It was her protective instincts kicking in. Sure, Emery was part of the crew and she’d take a bullet for him, but deep down she knew it was more. Her girlish crush on him was founded on more than just good looks. She respected him. Unlike her or the others, Emery fought many of their battles before the rest of them even knew there was danger. Technology and information were weapons far greater than she’d anticipated when she was younger and focused on guns and munitions. Maybe if she’d known the way the world would go, she’d have taken up computer science instead of mechanics.

  Yeah, that would never have happened. She was too hands-on for what Emery did.

  The image of a building filled his screen, grabbing her attention.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “The Greenworks building. Purchased around the time Evers was arrested.”

  “That’s a fortress.” She leaned over his shoulder.

  The mostly concrete building had few windows and was surrounded by a chain-link fence with razor wire over the top.

  “Where is it?” she asked.

  “North of Fort Lauderdale. It looks like the power and water were turned back on a little more than two months ago.”

  She didn’t need to be a computer genius to see that connection.

  They’d wondered where Evers’s operation had moved to since his arrest. Had they just found the new hive?

  “Is there security footage?” She hovered over his shoulder, watching as he pulled up aerial footage of the building and clicked through the frames.

  “Probably.”

  “Can you hack it?”

  “If the cameras are online I can hack them, but it might be faster . . .”

  “Faster to?”

  “Sorry.” He shook his head. “A place like this, sometimes it’s easier to hardwire into their system. It’s got to be fairly sophisticated.”

  “We need to do a drive-by then. Do you have the stuff you’d need to wire in or whatever you’re doing?” The team had been searching for the last two months for whatever Evers’s people were up to. To finally have an answer for the crazy series of events would be fantastic.

  “I’m not sure going by now is a good idea.” He turned toward her, gaze narrowed in thought.

  The hit team.

  The little fact of their bolting.

  But it was just a drive-by. Checking the location. Nothing major.

  “If we don’t jump on the opportunity while we have it, it may disappear. Like the import-export company. There’s no guarantee this site will remain operational. Besides, what if there’s another location we don’t know about?” She gestured to the image on the laptop.

  “I agree, but your safety is more important.”

  It felt as though a million tiny butterflies took wing in that moment. For a second, she didn’t draw a breath. Emery was putting her above the operation. Her cheeks heated slightly before the guilt slammed into her. She was not more important than the work they did. Her safety wasn’t grounds enough for compromising a solid lead, which was more than they’d had in months.

  Tori shook her head. “If I stay in the car and be the lookout, there shouldn’t be any issue. These Russians are looking for me, but they’ll also want to steer clear of Evers’s people. No one wants a turf war.”

  “I don’t want to put you at risk. I could drive by on my own. Hardwiring into their system shouldn’t be terribly difficult.”

  “Without me? Hell no.”

  His gaze narrowed. She was prepared to fight him on this, tooth and nail. They were crew. They had each other’s backs. She wasn’t about to let him save her and run off to put himself in danger. He might be used to working solo, but that was before today.

  “We drive by the location. If I can hardwire in, we do it. If not, I’ll find another way. We need a different ride though.”

  “I can borrow something.” And by borrow, she meant steal. But only for a little while.

  “Do it fast. I’d like to be locked in for the night by five.”

  “Let me see what I’ve got to work with.”

  It might be a little stupid, but she was excited about working with Emery. Seeing him in action. It was a great way to spend an afternoon.

  * * *

  They were doing too much.

  Emery wanted to insulate Tori from the whole world, wrap her up in cotton and pack her away where no one would find her. And yet, here they were, rolling north on I-95 in a stolen three-year-old Camaro.

  CJ was already trying to locate them. So far, Emery had blocked CJ’s attempts through the network to track their location, but Emery would have to go off-line soon. He had bounced their connection through a dozen different countries through redirects, plus they’d burned their phones and he’d disabled the Tesla’s GPS and other online capability. Hopefully it would be enough until they got off grid, where nothing could find them.

  Emery had suspected the FBI of using their operation and leaving the crew in the dark before today, but now he was certain of it. What he feared was that CJ might have other methods of tracking them that Emery wasn’t aware of. He’d always been something of an unwanted stepchild in the agency. He fit in far better with the questionable types they hired than the agents he’d trained with. Honor among thieves, it seemed.

  “What’s our plan?” Tori slid into the middle lane, passing the slower traffic.

  “I’ll look for a junction box. It’s probably not going to be outside the fence.”

  “Then we have to get inside the fence.”

  “That’s not a good idea. We’re supposed to be lying low.” It was completely crazy to still be working on the operation, especially when the FBI was possibly hanging them out to dry. Too bad Emery couldn’t turn his back on the job he’d said he’d see through.

  “I hate to break it to you, but we aren’t exactly good at that.” Tori glanced at him and grinned. Behind the wheel, she looked more like a troublesome pixie, ready to burn rubber and cause havoc.

  Emery blew out a breath. He knew that, just as he knew locking Tori up for her own good would kill her. She was a free creature. So he needed to manage the situation delicate
ly.

  “We get close, then let me out. Drive down that main street along the front of the building, and wait for me at the corner. I think there’s a little bodega there.”

  “What are you going to do?” She glanced at the toolbox on the floorboard.

  “Wire us into their security.”

  “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

  “I won’t be. I need you to watch my back.”

  She frowned and merged into the far right lane, steering it toward their exit. The Camaro was a smooth enough ride, though too flashy for this little adventure. He’d have preferred a simple sedan or a work truck to blend into the surroundings, but Tori had wanted speed.

  This far out, there was a little space between the buildings they passed instead of being built squished up next to each other. The area was mostly industrial, though a few street peddlers pushed their carts of ice cream and tamales around for the shift workers.

  The Greenworks building sat on a couple acres of land with little traffic around it. They drove parallel to the compoundlike structure, observing it from a distance.

  “Pull into this lot.” Emery pointed at a nondescript office space with a parking lot that cut through to the street that ran alongside Greenworks.

  “Need me, call me.” Tori kept the car on the windowless blind side of the single-story office building.

  Emery stepped out, hefting the toolbox.

  “Bodega. Twenty minutes.” He pulled a pair of sunglasses from his front pocket and slipped them on. Between the baseball cap, sunglasses, and nondescript workman’s shirt, he could be anyone, which was the point.

  Tori turned the car and eased back onto the street, continuing in the direction they’d been headed. She couldn’t get too close in the car. Especially if the security system was up and running. The last thing he needed was Evers’s idiots on her tail, too.

  Emery strolled through the parking lot, across the street, and down the fence line of the Greenworks property. Most commercial businesses incorporated a little of the Florida color palette by way of flowers or some decoration. Greenworks had nothing. Not even a palm tree out by the road. It felt . . . wrong.

  The street was completely deserted. No traffic, especially no one else on foot. It was as if the neighbors had a good idea who had moved in and they were keeping their distance. The back of Emery’s neck itched, like he was being watched. And he was.

  The security cameras were mounted on the side of the building, every twenty feet. There was no way to get close without coming up on at least one of the feeds. The trick was to appear as though he belonged there. Part of Emery’s value to the team was being an autonomous entity. While Tori, Aiden, Julian, and the rest were easily identified at a glance, Emery was almost completely separate to them. It made for a solitary existence, but no one would be able to see him and connect the person on the camera to Classic Rides or their people.

  Now, where was the junction box?

  The main gate also serviced the loading docks. A dozen men loitered about the lot. Except normal loading dock employees didn’t carry handguns. He was willing to bet the man in the guard shack was packing something of the automatic variety.

  He stopped in the shade of a billboard and peered at the side of the building. From the way the cameras were positioned, he should be on the very edge of the frame.

  There.

  The junction box for the security cameras was mounted against the side of the building. He’d passed a bit of shoddily patched fence ten feet back, where he thought he could get through in a pinch, but there was no way he’d make it the dozen or so feet to the box before someone spotted him, if they hadn’t already.

  He needed a distraction. Something to pull the guard’s attention away from this direction for a minute. A Dumpster and a stack of blue barrels would cover his position at the box—if he could get there.

  He wanted to get a look inside the facility, but he couldn’t risk Tori’s safety. She was the priority. Nothing could change that. Not even an opportunity to figure out why the FBI might be hanging them out to dry could tempt him otherwise.

  Emery turned and retraced his steps, but only got a few feet away before tires screeching on pavement broke the calm. The red Camaro slowed to a stop, just on the other side of the front gates, the hood billowing white smoke.

  “Damn it, Tori,” he muttered.

  The guard at the gate stepped out, his hands empty as Tori jumped out of the driver’s seat, a scarf wrapped around her head like some rich South Beach miss. At this distance he couldn’t hear what she was saying, but he could make out the distressed tones of her voice.

  Tori.

  Distressed.

  As if.

  Her act had the desired result. The guards circled around the car, several working together to pop the hood.

  This was it. Maybe his only chance.

  Emery snatched a set of needle-nose pliers from his toolbox and snipped the wire woven between the broken links to keep the fence together. He shouldered through the hole, carrying his toolbox against his chest.

  At most, he’d have a couple of minutes to do a ten-minute job. Good thing he was quick with his hands.

  Emery ducked behind the Dumpster, listening for a shout or footsteps to let him know he’d been made. He lifted the lid of the junction box, torn between a groan and pumping his fist. The wiring was old, probably older than the cameras. It should have been swapped out when the system was upgraded, but someone had cut corners.

  Their loss.

  Emery’s gain.

  He pulled out a knife, cutting away the plastic casing on the wires until he could ensure a good enough connection. Instead of the government-issue toys he normally played with, he’d put together a simple transmitter for their purposes. All they needed was the footage. If he kept the receiver online and functional, they’d have everything.

  The Camaro revved and the sound of an excited female voice drifted toward him. The men’s voices were a jumble of bass tones that got lost in the rumble of the car. Whatever Tori had fucked up, he was pretty sure they were about to fix it.

  He grabbed the transmitter and very carefully set the live ends against the exposed wires. It would be ideal to solder the metals together, but there wasn’t time for that. In a pinch, electrical tape would have to work. He wound the black adhesive around the ends, securing the transmitter to the wires.

  A man called out to the others in Spanish, just on the other side of the Dumpster. Emery ducked his head and peered out at the street. The skin on the back of his neck prickled. They were cutting this way too close.

  Tori stood by the Camaro, smiling and talking to the guards while the car idled—no smoke streaming from the hood now.

  He made the last connection and wrapped the whole thing in tape to keep the connection from slipping due to the weight of the transmitter. Taking an extra moment, he shifted the wires, turning and pulling them so his additional tech wasn’t visible. He slid the lid closed, cringing at the rusty scrape of the metal, but no one paid him any mind.

  Now, how did he get out of here?

  Emery pressed his back to the Dumpster and edged to where he could see the street and a bit of the loading docks. Most of the dockhands had dispersed, meandering back to their stations, or to whatever they’d been doing before. Tori dropped into the driver’s seat of the Camaro and the guard from the shack closed her door.

  His distraction was gone. Unless she drove the car into the guard shack, he would have to get out of here on his own.

  He shoved one hand in his pocket and strolled in the opposite direction of the gate, toolbox in hand. This was the part of the job he’d struggled with in the beginning. Pretending to act normal. Time, practice, and the memory of what he’d suffered had taught him better than his instructors at Quantico. Now, he had a range of practiced reasons to be anywhere for any reason.

  “Who are you?” A young man wearing new kicks, saggy jeans, and a shirt so neon it hurt Emery’s eyes to look a
t stepped out from behind a metal door. There was no handle on the outside, which meant it was some sort of emergency-only exit. Clearly not hooked up to a security system. Good to know.

  “Hi, I’m from Gexa. I’m checking the amps on your meters. Any idea where the subsidiary meters are?” This kid wasn’t one of the hired staff. He looked . . . like someone the Eleventh Street gang would have driving for them.

  “What are you talking about, man?” He scowled at Emery. “I don’t know where no meters are.”

  “Okay. I’m just going to look on the other side. I’m sure I’ll find it.” Emery kept walking, glancing at the fence line, looking for an out. He couldn’t make it over the razor wire before one of the guards was alerted. Considering they were packing, he didn’t want to take his chances getting hung up and shot. Tori was just crazy enough to drive in and save him, and he was supposed to be protecting her. Going over the fence was out. He hadn’t seen another weakness in the chain link. That meant he’d have to get through one of the gates. The primary one was too well guarded, but the secondary entrance hadn’t appeared as secure.

  He glanced once over his shoulder, but the young thug wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Hopefully he went back to whatever he’d been doing before Emery arrived.

  Chapter Six

  Fifteen feet to the corner of the facility.

  Emery rounded the corner, keeping his arms and shoulders relaxed. Most of the time, if he just acted like he belonged somewhere, no one questioned him. Creeping around a place like he didn’t want to be caught was the fastest way to blow his cover.

  From their brief tour around the facility, it appeared most of the activity was centered behind him on the back side of the building, where the loading docks were located. The front had been almost deserted.

  Emery cursed their luck. A cluster of workmen on their lunch break had taken over some wooden picnic tables. A few yards away a couple of people in business casual attire were on a smoke break. It was business as usual. Except it was Saturday. Didn’t office workers tend to avoid weekend shifts?