Chapter Twelve
Gabe took himself out of Harte’s office and strode down the hallway. He wanted to get outside and take a run or head to the nearest gym and pound a punching bag. Do something to take the edge off his temper when there wasn’t anything he could do about the hard news he had to give. Neither of those was a good option at the moment, with limited time and Maylin waiting for him.
Still, he ducked inside a conference room at the other end of the suite and starting pacing. He wasn’t ready to give the update to Maylin yet. Too many things didn’t fit.
He’d have been fine if he’d never had to deal with Jewel again. Some part of him had known he would have to, though. The business of private military contractors had a high turnover rate but it was a small world. They’d have ended up on a multi-contractor job together—or ended up like this, set to go head-to-head. All things said and done, it was less complicated as it stood.
Still, a couple of questions were hanging out there and he didn’t like letting them go unanswered. Jewel wasn’t as good a distance shooter as Lizzy, but she could’ve made a head shot in that last mission. She could have killed him. He’d spent his recovery rapidly progressing through the shock and betrayal, setting those aside and dismissing the whole thing, assuming she’d decided leaving him crippled was worse than dead. He’d gotten good and angry then and used it to fuel his temper and get himself back on his feet.
Now? He wasn’t so sure. She might not have adjusted her shot out of spite.
He and his teammates didn’t pry into each other’s backgrounds much. They had all met as they’d joined the Centurions. All any of them had ever needed to know about their teammates was who they were as Centurions: skill sets, abilities, anything lending to the completion of a given mission. Strengths and weaknesses were reviewed in terms of performance.
But none of those things gave insight into why people did the shit they did. Gabe wasn’t particularly fond of psyches, but he saw the value in a therapy session if it helped a person get their head back on straight. With Jewel and her fire team leaving the Centurions, he’d assumed they’d made a simple choice: money.
Her having chosen not to kill him added a twist to the logic. And her showing up now mucked things up. Made it more difficult. Because he didn’t want to wonder if she was going to take him out this time, or worse, kill Maylin.
Gabe dragged a hand through his hair and cursed.
He’d always been a no-strings-attached kind of guy. When he mixed it up with a woman, it was for mutual enjoyment and lasted only as long as convenient. No regrets when it came time to walk away.
He halted and planted his hands on the windowsill, looking out and not seeing anything. He couldn’t walk away from Maylin the same way. It wasn’t just about missing her. Even considering leaving her opened up a hole inside him.
No idea what it meant, but the thought of Jewel or her team doing anything to Maylin filled him with ice cold fear.
Fear slowed a man down, made him hesitate, second guess. If he couldn’t see clearly, he was going to make a mistake. He needed to decide how to move forward with the least amount of damage.
His phone rang. Yanking it out of his pocket, he growled, “Diaz.”
“Lykke here. You okay? You sound pissed.”
Gabe sighed. “Nah. Just working through some reality over here.”
“Ah.” Marc probably had a good idea of what the reality was, but he’d wait until Gabe briefed the team. “Well, I got some bad news to add.”
“Sure.” Great. Fantastic. “Better now than later. Go ahead.”
“Porter van Lumanee died. Diagnosis still indicates food poisoning as the root cause.” Marc didn’t sound too broken up about it. “I managed to find a few different email accounts for the guy in addition to his work email. An-mei Cheng was the first scientist he was tasked with approaching and acquiring, but if it had gone successfully, she wouldn’t have been the last. There’s one or two other emails with information on other scientists. None of them are missing.”
“Yet.” Gabe pushed away from the windowsill and started pacing again.
“I’ll get an anonymous tip in to the universities they do research for and to the local authorities.”
Gabe nodded. It’d keep any other players distracted. “Good. Anything else?”
“He had some interesting deposits to an overseas banking account. I’m trying to track the source but it’s going to take a while.” Marc was typing away as he spoke. “Best I can tell you is that it wasn’t the biotech firm—Phoenix Biotech—and it wasn’t Edict.”
“So we’re looking at an anonymous sponsor.” Gabe frowned.