“What about the kid?” Denver asked.
Ryker waited and then sighed. “Let’s find the woman and figure out who she is. Then I’ll know better how to deal with Greg. The kid is lost, and I’d like to help him if possible.”
Heath lifted an eyebrow.
Ryker shrugged. He would like to help Greg, so why not say so as the kid listened in? The lost look in the kid’s dangerous and way-too-old eyes had haunted him since their only meeting. “For now, I have to get some shut-eye. How about we meet at eight in the morning and head out?”
“Copy that.” Heath groaned as he shoved from the chair. “Has anybody ordered furniture for the apartments upstairs?”
“No,” Denver said shortly, tapping keys. “Security measures are in place here. We’re well protected.”
Like hell they were. Greg had already gotten in once to plant all the bugs. “That’s good to know,” Ryker said.
Denver stood and quietly opened his bottom desk drawer. He reached in and tossed Glocks to both men. Ryker shoved his gun against the back of his waist, much preferring the knife already in his boot. “Night, guys.” He loped through the offices and up the stairs to his apartment, where he opened and shut the door without going inside.
Then he turned and made his way back down to the offices without making a sound this time.
He gave a head jerk to Denver, who had already stationed himself near the reception area. Heath covered the back, and Ryker set up dead center and out of sight.
Then they waited.
The night ticked on, and the skies outside decided to open up again. Rain slashed down, but if the weather turned as it was predicted to, they might have more snow by morning.
Ryker remained in a crouch against the long row of file cabinets in the center of the office.
The air shifted. Not enough for most people to notice, but something—or rather someone—hovered near. He gave a hand signal to Denver, who nodded. Heath was already on alert.
Denver held up a small box that had gone dark.
The damn kid had managed to turn off the security system without giving an indication. He had to be close.
No sound. As hard as Ryker tried, he couldn’t make out a sound that shouldn’t be there. So he closed his eyes and concentrated. Denver’s heartbeat…then Heath’s echoed through his mind.
Should he be able to hear them? Shit no. But he could. He’d accepted the oddity years ago, and once he had, he’d gotten accustomed to using it.
Another heartbeat. Strong and sure and damn steady.
He gestured to his brothers again, waiting for their nods. They both had odd talents, including the bizarre hearing abilities.
The back door slowly slid open.
The kid was good. He didn’t make a tick of sound. He whipped inside and waited.
Ryker forced himself to breathe evenly and not hold his breath.
The kid moved as silent as death across the room and past a waiting Heath, heading straight for Denver’s office. Heath waited until the kid was between the office and Ryker before flipping on the lights. Greg whirled around, his knife already out.
Ryker stood, his hands held out. “No need for weapons.”
The kid eyed him, his body relaxed and yet in a fighting stance. No fear showed on his tough face while his gaze seemed to track all three of them. “You found the bug.”
“Bugs,” Denver corrected, pushing away from the reception area.
Ryker kept a line on the knife Greg hadn’t put down. “This is Denver, and that’s Heath. They’re my brothers.”
At the word, the kid visibly blanched before going stone-cold again.
Brothers.
Ryker’s heart thumped for the lost kid. His pain was palpable in the wide room, yet he stood so bravely and faced the three of them.
Able to read minds, Heath caught the look. “You have family, kid?”
“No,” Greg said, his free hand folding into a fist. He reminded Ryker of Heath as a child…so scared and angry and willing to fight.
Heath grimaced. “I have a rare talent of knowing when somebody is lying their ass off to me. Just so you know.”
Greg backed away, knife out, keeping all three of them in his sights. He sidled to the left—toward the stairs, which led up to the apartments and down to the parking garage.
“Stop moving. I don’t want to take you down, but if you go for the stairs, I will,” Ryker said calmly, planning how to do it without bruising Greg. No way was he going to harm Greg.
Greg eyed him and then stopped moving. “Where’s Isobel Madison?” His voice shook. “I have to find her.”
“Tit for tat,” Denver said, taking a couple of steps toward Greg, awareness in his gaze. “Who is Isobel Madison?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Greg lowered the knife but kept a firm hold on the handle.
“Smart move,” Heath said, his body still on alert. “Now we can talk. Who is she?”