by I. T. Lucas
“Is it safe?”
“The hotel is still open for business. So yes, it’s safe. Just ugly and small. The location is good, and I expect a new boutique hotel to do well there.”
“Wonderful. I have great news that will save us a small portion of the budget. I know you’re looking for ways to minimize expenses,” Vanessa said.
“Any savings would be welcome.”
“I talked with the other therapists who work in my building. Each of them is willing to donate half a day of work a week to help with the girls, provided the commute is not too long. I hope they don’t think of Ojai as too far away.”
“If it is, do you think they will agree to one full day every other week instead?”
She nodded. “I’ll have to ask again.”
“Thank you. You have no idea how much I appreciate all that you’re doing for this cause.”
Vanessa had agreed to head the rehabilitation portion of their rescue plan, and she was dividing her current caseload between several of her colleagues in order to free up her time. She was sacrificing a practice which she’d worked long and hard to establish.
She nodded. “I gave it a lot of thought and decided that this is what I need to be doing. I entered the field to help people deal with traumas and other issues and improve the quality of their lives. I now have an opportunity to do it on a much larger scale.”
“Nevertheless, thank you. On another note, what about confidentiality? Did you talk with your colleagues about keeping quiet? I know they are not allowed to disclose confidential information about their patients, but that is not the same as keeping a lid on the whole program.”
Vanessa lifted her hands. “I did. I warned that the girls’ safety depended on it and was promised silence. But I can give you no guarantees. I wish we had someone who was good at compulsion. That would’ve solved a lot of problems for us.”
Indeed. Kian would have slept much better at night knowing people were compelled to keep secrets rather than relying on their good characters and judgment. Interaction with humans in general could’ve been less restricted if those humans were compelled never to reveal the clan’s existence.
But wishing it wasn’t going to make it so. If they were lucky, a child would be born to the clan who possessed this rare ability. The only other option was to have Annani do that, but that wasn’t an option at all.
The Clan Mother needed to remain in her Alaskan retreat, safe and secure. An occasional short visit was fine, even though it meant more sleepless nights for him worrying about his mother and her disregard for her own safety, but it was unavailable. She wasn’t a prisoner, and it was important for her wellbeing to get out of there once in a while.
Chapter 47: Bridget
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Bridget glared at Turner.
The guy had a lot to learn about being in a relationship. Not that it was news to her, but still, he could have said something about his upcoming trip to South America and not waited until the last minute.
Well, three days to be exact, but it felt sudden nonetheless. He’d known about this trip for weeks.
Victor had made such a big fuss about going to see Douglas and being away from her for just a little over twenty-four hours, but he hadn’t thought he should have informed her that he would be gone for four days?
“It wasn’t a done deal until yesterday, and you’ve been busy.”
True. The Guardians had taken her up on her offer and had been calling to let her know they were coming. Each one of the men deserved to be heard and encouraged and congratulated and not reprimanded for forgetting to check the time difference between the continents. She was asking them to make a major life change. The least she could do was give them her undivided attention even if it was two in the morning in Los Angeles.
Bridget rose to her feet and started collecting the empty containers of Thai takeout they had eaten for dinner. “Does it have anything to do with the ambush?”
Turner picked up their plates and followed her to the kitchen. “It has everything to do with that. I can’t just leave it be. I have to get to the root of this. Besides, my client wants an outsider to check his network and find out the breach.”
Bridget dropped the empty containers in the trash and turned around to face him. “You’re not a tech person.”
“I’m taking one with me.”
Leaning against the counter, Bridget crossed her arms over her chest. “I feel uneasy about this. If the breach is in your client’s network, it means that whoever ordered the attack on you is there as well. It’s dangerous.”
He shrugged. “If you want someone safe you should have picked an accountant. My work comes with certain risks which I’m well aware of, and I take the appropriate precautions against.”
“I would’ve felt better if you had a couple of burly bodyguards with you. Maybe I can ask Kian to lend you a Guardian or two?”
Victor walked over to where she was standing and put his hands on her waist. “I don’t think he can spare any at the moment, and I don’t think my client will appreciate me showing up with bodyguards. It’s offensive to someone like him. It’s like suggesting that his security is shit.”
“Apparently it is.”
“It isn’t, but even if it was, I can’t disrespect him like that.”
“You told me that he doesn't go anywhere without a cadre of goons. Why would he mind if you did it?”
“Because he is an important political figure and I’m just a contractor providing a service. We are not equals. Not in his eyes.”
Bridget huffed. “Male posturing. That’s all it is.”
“Politics. A woman holding the same position would have been no different.”
She sighed. “Just promise me to be careful.”
When she’d first met him, Victor had looked like a man who could handle himself in a brawl. Not that his fighting skills were a guarantee of safety, as proven by the ambush and the potentially lethal knife wound he’d sustained, but it was better than having none. The problem was that Victor wasn’t doing well on the chemo, and his body was weakened.
His skin, which had been pale before the chemo, was now so pasty it looked grayish. He lacked energy, and he wasn’t as focused as he used to be.
Naturally, she pretended like nothing was amiss and encouraged him to keep going for treatments. The side effects were unfortunate but there was no way he could stop them. Hopefully, his body would adapt and the adverse reactions would diminish.
In the meantime, though, he was supposed to rest as much as possible and not go on long trips to Third World countries.
He kissed her forehead. “Always.”
With a sigh, she dropped her hands and pushed off the counter.
Victor wasn’t going to change his mind no matter what she said. Besides, she shouldn’t try to stop him from doing what had to be done. Finding out who was behind the attack was important not only to his client but for Turner’s safety.
Understandably, Victor had been in a crappy mood ever since he’d started the chemo. Some good news would cheer him up.
“Come, let’s sit in the living room.” She took his hand and pulled him behind her. “You wanted an update on what’s going on with the Guardians.”
As they sat on the couch, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. “Don’t think that I’m going willingly. I’m going to miss you, and I can’t even ask you to join me. First of all, because you’re up to your ears in work, and secondly because it’s not safe. Or rather the other way around.”
She lifted a brow. “Are you admitting that it’s not safe?”
“Not safe enough for you. The moment the culprit finds out I have my girlfriend with me, you become a target. He would think you’re the weak point and could be easily taken.”
“The jerk would be in for one hell of a surprise.” She looked up at him. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come? I can be your secret weapon.”
Bridget wasn’t a viol
ent person, but she found the idea of taking out the scum behind the attack on Turner extremely appealing. Perhaps she could take a leaf out of Eva’s book. If a detective could become a novelist, a doctor could become an assassin. Just once. When it came to protecting her loved ones, Bridget had no qualms about doing a little cleanup job.
“Not going to happen, Dr. Bridget, so wipe that evil smirk off your pretty face and tell me about the Guardians.”
Yeah, it was a nice little fantasy. She would make a shitty assassin.
“We have fifty, and I expect more phone calls in the coming days.”
“That exceeds our best estimates.”
“It does, and they are starting to arrive soon. Kian is expediting the move to the Village to make room for them in the keep. Nathalie and Andrew are moving as are Amanda and Dalhu. Brundar and Callie have to stay because of Brundar’s job. All the current Guardians are staying to welcome the newcomers and start training them.”
Turner frowned. “That’s not a good strategy. He is leaving the Village unprotected. Some of the Guardians should move with the first wave.”
“I’ll mention it to him. Unless you want to?”
As much as Kian appreciated her input and respected her opinion, he would be quicker to take Turner’s advice on matters of security.
“You’re the expert. You should talk to him.”
“I will.”
“I wish Eva and Bhathian could move. Between the two of them, they can protect the others.”
“Why can’t they?”
“Because Eva refuses to leave her crew behind. She is convinced they are Dormants and is waiting for them to transition.”
That sparked Victor’s interest. “Do they have special abilities?”
“Nothing definite, quite iffy if you ask me. Supposedly Sharon is an excellent judge of character, like in infallible, and Nick is a whiz with electronics.”
“The girl’s ability might be paranormal, but what is special about being good with electronics?”
Bridget shrugged. “He managed to infiltrate the keep’s security system, and he is not a super-hacker.”
Victor whistled. “Now, that’s impressive. My hacker is excellent but had no luck breaking in here. That guy must be special.”
“You tried to hack into the keep?”
“Did you expect anything less from me?”
She chuckled. “Right. The keep was another mystery you just had to solve. I’m surprised you didn’t succeed.”
“I was surprised too, and impressed.”
“How about disappointed?”
He waved a hand. “Nah. It would’ve been more disappointing for me if I succeeded. Besides, it was a much-needed dose of humility. I was reminded that I’m not omnipotent.”
Bridget gasped dramatically. “You’re not?”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t sorry me, mister. Come to bed, and I’ll show you that you’re plenty potent for me.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
Chapter 48: Turner
“Come on, Alfred, hurry up,” Turner said.
Herding his hacker through the airport was like trying to herd a goat with an attention deficit disorder. The guy gawked at everyone, stopping to take a better look at anything from a pretty face to fancy luggage. It was like observing someone who’d been just released from jail and was seeing people for the first time in years.
Most hackers didn’t get out much, but Alfred was married with three small kids. There must’ve been trips to the supermarket, and the preschool, and all the other places parents shuffled their kids to and from. Even if he wanted to, Alfred couldn't hide in his cave without surfacing once in a while.
Thanks to the TSA fast pass, they had gone through the security check in no time, but then the guy took forever to get his things organized. Turner watched Alfred fumble with his belt, then look for an appropriately-sized pocket for his wallet, another pocket for his passport, and lastly the miscellaneous shit he’d pulled out of his pockets and had placed in the bin.
“I hate flying,” Alfred said once they were seated.
“You’re not flying yet. Besides, a first class seat is hardly a hardship.” With Sandoval footing the bill, Turner could be magnanimous.
“Are the drinks free?”
Turner nodded.
“Good. I’m going to get shitfaced and sleep until we get there.”
“No, you’re not. I’ll give you a sleeping pill. A hangover is the last thing you need while working on Sandoval’s system. It’s not like you can take a day or two to rest before you start. You sleep on the plane and start working the moment we get there.”
Alfred snorted. “I told you before. I don’t know why you’re dragging me all the way out there when I could’ve done it from home.”
Turner slapped the guy’s back. “Stop complaining. It’ll do you good to get out of the house from time to time.”
Sandoval agreed with Turner’s assessment that the breach in security was on his side. Arturo’s people assured him that his network was as safe as it could be and was protected by the best security protocol money could buy. Wisely, the guy wanted an outsider’s opinion.
Listening to the recording of the message he’d supposedly had left for Turner, Sandoval insisted that it hadn’t been an actor imitating his voice but a piecing together of snippets of his phone conversations.
Turner had never told Sandoval what exactly had happened at the restaurant, leaving the details out so Arturo would think that he’d handled it. First of all, he’d wanted to gauge the guy’s response, and secondly, it wasn’t something he could admit without losing face. An operative like him should have never been caught with his pants down, so to speak.
Unless Sandoval had intel on the incident, which would cast suspicion on his involvement in the ambush, Turner wasn’t going to volunteer the information.
“I don’t like being away from the house overnight.” Alfred hunched his shoulders, looking and sounding like a schoolkid on his way to detention.
“That’s the power of habit, buddy. The longer you succumb to it the harder it is to break. Your comfort zone is sitting in your gaming chair and manipulating data. You’re good at that, but it’s not good for you.”
“It pays the bills.”
Making a career out of a hobby was great, but it had a few downsides. Passion often turned into an obsession to the exclusion of everything else. The intense focus was good for attaining incredible skill, but not for relationships, health, and fitness, which usually got neglected.
He was one to talk.
Achieving the desired results for his clients was so important to Turner that he was sacrificing his health to deliver what he’d promised, maybe even his very life.
In order to restore his mind to the top level machine it used to be, he had stopped the chemotherapy. It had taken several days until the fog had cleared. Now that his brain was back to functioning the way it had before, Turner was adamant about never undergoing treatment again.
The thing was, he hadn’t told Bridget yet, and with each passing day, the lie by omission was getting bigger and heavier. He’d even resorted to faking tiredness.
The old Turner would have kept it a secret, pretending for a few more weeks that he was getting treated while pushing for the transition as soon as he closed all of his open cases.
The new Turner knew that lying to Bridget was wrong. She was too smart and too observant not to figure it out on her own. He had to man up and tell her before that happened. If he told her, the worst that could happen was a bit of a tantrum followed by her trying to convince him to resume treatment.
The woman had a temper and was not afraid to use it.
But if she found out before he told her, she was going to kick him out, lock the door, and never let him in again.
“It’s not about the habit,” Alfred said as the plane started to move on the runway. “Well it is, but that’s not the main reason. You don’t have kids so you don’t know how it
feels.”
None of Turner’s associates knew about Douglas. But the truth of the matter was that he wouldn’t know how it felt because he’d never done any actual parenting.
Turner rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re right, I don’t. But I assume parents need a break from a bunch of noisy kids from time to time.”
Alfred chuckled. “I dream of it every day, especially when they fight and the screams are loud enough to bring the house down. But when I’m forced to leave, especially on a plane, I have this fear that something will happen to me, and my children will be left fatherless. Who will take care of them?”
Turner patted the hacker’s shoulder. “These fears are irrational. Statistically, you’re safer on a plane than driving your car. Are you afraid of going to the supermarket?”
“Of course not. I’m looking forward to it.”
“You do?”
“I work from home, and my wife drives the kids to and from wherever they need to go. In the evenings, my time belongs to the family, and after the kids are in bed, I usually put in a few more hours of work. Going to the supermarket is the only break I get.”
Poor guy. Alfred didn’t have much of a life.
On second thought, that wasn’t true.
What was life all about?
Life was about a lot of things, but trips abroad and even work well done were not what defined one’s life as worth living or not.
Turner considered himself lucky.
His work was about rescuing people. He was needed, his services were vital. There weren’t many operators like him in the world, and he was entitled to think of himself as indispensable. So even if he had nothing else in his life, this was enough to fill him with a sense of purpose and pride of achievement.
Except, since he’d met Bridget and Kian had allowed him almost unlimited access to the clan, Turner’s worldview had shifted.
Life was about family first and everything else second.
