Page 35 of The Mouse and the Maestro

“Get in line,” Blue said. He stepped in front of Jane, pulled his gun from its holster, hoping it looked smooth and not as clumsy as it felt. It would be his luck to drop the thing and accidentally shoot himself or one of them. Feigning confidence, he led the way through the door. Taking Jane’s hand, he herded her down the stairs and to his car, keeping a wary eye out for anyone suspicious. The problem was that when he was really looking, everyone seemed suspicious. He began to feel some sympathy for Jane’s decision to pepper spray him that first day. She was right—when you were vulnerable, everyone looked like a possible predator. And he had been following her that day, though not for any nefarious purpose. He must have looked scary to her, tall, tattooed, blue haired, and skulking behind her. Knowing how much danger she was in made everyone they passed look similarly sinister to him. He had to stay rational, tokeep a cool head. It would be his luck to take down a nun or harmless falafel cart guy because he developed a panicky trigger finger.

They reached the car and he shut her inside before sprinting around to ease in behind the wheel. For a moment, he was tempted to slide across the top of the car, but he didn’t want to risk his paint job or getting impaled on his hood ornament. Plus it was likely he would run out of momentum halfway through and end up crawling off the car like the dejected, non-athlete he was. A quick glance in the mirror showed no one in their wake. He would keep a close eye out as they drove to…where should he take her? Where was safe?

There was only one place he could think of. After a few circuitous false starts to make sure they weren’t followed, he turned once again and headed home. His building had a garage, protected from the street. It was high security and, thanks to his job, completely off the radar.

“What is this place?” Jane asked as they parked underground and he retrieved her bag.

“This is my place,” Blue said, pushing the button for the elevator. Once they were inside and the doors were closed, he breathed a sigh of relief, took out his key, and put it in the elevator.

“You live in the penthouse?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Huh.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“What?” he prodded.

“I find it interesting a government employee drives a Jaguar, lives in a luxury penthouse, and you thinkI’mthe one who is suspicious.”

“I told you I sold an app,” he said.

“So you say.”

He scowled, not liking her inference. “Look, I could easily be making a solid six figures in the private sector. I could leave tomorrow and write my meal ticket in Silicon Valley. It’s not like they haven’t offered. Google practically begged me to… I stay because the work I do is important.”

“What’s the problem? Does it bother you when someone questions your intent, your very morality based on circumstantial evidence?” she said.

He opened his mouth to reply and closed it again when the elevator dinged. “Make yourself comfortable, I have to call work.” He reached for his phone, thankful it had enough battery to make a call, while Jane meandered around his space. He tried to see it through her eyes. The space was grand, and it had a great view. Otherwise it looked like any twenty nine year old’s bachelor pad—sparse, mismatched furniture and a couple of random pictures hung haphazardly on the walls. The only difference was that one entire wall was taken up with his massive computer and hard drives, powerful enough to allow him to work from home, if needed. The nature of his job didn’t keep regular hours. Sometimes he needed to track what governments in different time zones were up to. Working from home allowed him to do that more comfortably.

“What now?” Ridge answered.

“Just making sure you didn’t die laughing,” Blue said.

“Jury’s still out.”

“There’s a hit on Jane. I found it on the dark web, encrypted.”

“I’ll send a team for her,” Ridge said.

“I already got her, she’s here, at my house.”

There was a pause. “You got her yourself?”

“It seemed critical and time sensitive, and my phone was dead.”

Ridge clicked his tongue in disapproval. It was likely his phone had never died inconveniently. He probably alwaysremembered to charge it and had a few backup phones just in case. As if to remind him how much of a super spy he wasn’t, Blue’s phone low-battery warning beeped ominously. Surreptitiously, he reached for his charger and plugged it in.

“She can’t stay there. Ethan’s coming home tomorrow. He’ll take her to a safe house.”

Blue eyed Jane, now paused in front of one of the pictures on his wall, inspecting it with the same intensity she did everything, including kiss. “I don’t think so.”

There was another pause. “You don’t think so?”

“She would not be comfortable with Ethan,” Blue said. And he would not be comfortable having her with Ethan. The last woman Ethan rescued fell in love with him. It was a job hazard for men like Ethan and Ridge. They couldn’t help themselves. He saw the way women looked at them and responded to them, regardless of the fact that they were both now married, though secretly in Ethan’s case. Women were programed to respond to masculine men, to heroes, to rescuers. Blue was none of those things.

“It’s not about comfort; it’s about safety,” Ridge reminded him.

“She’s safe here.”

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