“No. Short by three. Doctor Marelle still wears the crown.”
“Yeah, but don’t you at least get a special plaque or something?”
“Fuck the plaque. I wanted the title. Would’ve had it too if it weren’t for the Parkinson’s.”
Given his current situation, Jamie could relate. Maybe for the first time ever, he had something in common with his father. The stripping away of a career built through sacrifice and dedication left a hole.
Who was Samuel Atticus Snow if he wasn’t the Surgeon-in-Chief at Gen Mass?
And who the fuck was Jamie if he wasn’t the black ops badass he used to be?
* * *
Still awake onthe morning of day three, Jay yawned wide enough to crack his face in half. Fingers linked behind his head, he leaned back in his chair and stretched his neck.
He needed help. The illegal kind.
No, not drugs. Although, at this point, he’d kill for a muscle relaxant.
He needed a hacker. Someone who didn’t mind dwelling in the morally gray zone of breaking into databases to find and steal information for the greater good.
The guys were all computer capable. They could run searches, upload simple programs, get past basic firewalls. But the hard stuff—the stuff that would land a hacker in federal prison for life—that was all him. A one-man tech team teetering on the edge of severe burnout with a growing list of shit to do.
He had so many programs running and hacks on the go, he was bound to miss something. He needed Rebecca Barrows. Originally an international studies major, she was one of the most gifted coders he’d ever met. Her evil twin Maya came in a close second.
When combined, their skills exceeded Jay’s. A threat to his twenty-one-year-old ego he couldn’t let stand. So, he’d inserted himself between them. The results…a disaster of epic proportions. And seven years later, he still had regrets.
“Coffee,” Cody said, announcing the delivery before handing a large paper cup to Jay and parking his butt in a free chair. Crossing one massive thigh over the other, he angled his body to settle his weight on one cheek. A habit he’d picked up after being shot in the ass by one of Johnson’s men.
The odd position made him look like an old man with a steroid problem, although Cody’s physique was one hundred percent all-natural, and the result of countless hours spent in the gym.
“What?” he grumbled in response to Jay’s cocked eyebrow. “It’s comfortable.”
“Anything new?” Chase asked, dropping his tall frame into the chair on the opposite side of Jay, and setting a Boston Harbor snow globe on the table.
“No,” he replied, hitching his chin at the lobster encased in plastic. “Gray’s going to kick your ass for that.”
Chase grinned like a love-struck ten-year-old. “Fuck, I hope so.”
For a second, Jay felt a hit of envy. The only woman he’d ever loved hated his fucking guts, and even if he could get over Rebecca, forget about meeting someone new. Thanks to Johnson, he occupied the top spot on the US government’s most wanted list. Murder. Treason. Embezzlement. Name the offense—he’d been charged with it.
Johnson had set Jay up as the scapegoat for his nefarious dealings, and with a half-million-dollar reward on his head, there’d be no swipe-right dates in his near future. Or in any future, if he didn’t figure out what Jonas Johnson and his backers were up to.
“Alright,” Adam said, approaching the team and looking as GQ fresh in his slacks and white button-down as the minute they’d boarded the plane. Hands in his pockets and sleeves rolled twice, he appeared ready to lead a business meeting at a Fortune 500 company despite the dual Berettas holstered under his arms. “Let’s get Z on the line and go over what we have one more time.”
Jay connected Zander to the meeting through a secure line, and they each updated on a whole lotta nothing new.
No signs of Jamie.
No signs of Johnson’s men.
No signs of the Tak look alike.
“Now what?” Cody asked. “Jamie knows how to ghost, so unless he calls in a location for a pickup, we’re not gonna find him.”
“Might be time for us to head back to Montana,” Chase said.
“What about Tak?” Adam asked.
