Page 85 of Maddox

“Why orphanages? I get it was a cover, but it must mean something to you,” Damon asked. He remained dutifully positioned behind a series of computers, the dark room illuminated by the massive screens positioned along one wall. He wasn’t looking at me, his fingers flying across the keyboard.

Folding my legs under me, I reached for the container of Kung Pao shrimp, immediately digging the set of chopsticks into the box of heaven. Who knew almost getting killed while being chased by unknown assailants could increase your appetite?

“Do they mean something to you personally?” he pressed.

Maddox’s intense exhale held annoyance. He’d barely taken a few bites of food, preferring to stare at me in the shadows.

I’d lived through several dangerous scenarios since turning investigative reporter several years before. From fleeing police officers who’d mistakenly believed I had something to do with an explosion in Chicago and almost being swept up in an unparalleled flood in North Carolina to being accosted at gunpoint by an overzealous rancher in Texas, I’d accepted that danger was a part of my life.

Yet every aspect of that acceptance had been challenged during the last few days. The anxiety reaching new levels in my mind and body wasn’t only caused by the comprehension I’d almost died twice, but also by the sheer determination of a monster to end my life.

The thought was gut wrenching but fueled a fire deep within. The moment I’d read about Fernando Alfaro, I’d set my sights on being part of the reason the man was taken down. I could hide behind the orphanage stories forever, because they were dear to my heart, but the core reason I’d allowed myself to be lured to El Salvador had been about fame and glory.

The guilt was killing me.

I’d always had a voracious appetite for life, indulging in researching various countries and fantastic worlds. In doing so, I’d felt as if I’d cracked open the origin of life itself, finding the molten lava forming the basis for intelligence and desire. It was silly to be thinking about that while nursing a beer and a headache from being tossed around in a scary-looking Humvee while being shot at by the bad guys.

Whoever the bad guys were.

There were two possibilities. Alfaro’s soldiers and whoever was on the list.

“Because I spent several years in the system. I know just how broken and overlooked it is. I had a friend I kept in touch with years later who disappeared. I tried to find out what happened, even going to the police. They acted like she was a runaway. I knew better. It struck me how difficult it is for children when they’re seen as unwanted. There are good people fighting for additional funding and assistance, but often their words aren’t seen or heard. While rich people pay upwards of six figures to adopt a child from a foreign country, there are thousands of incredible kids languishing in a society only required to feed, house, and clothe them until they age out. Adoptions of older children are rare. In less privileged countries, the children are often forgotten about or mistreated. It’s a worldwide problem that few are bringing light to.”

All true. Just saying the words brought me back to a time I’d wanted to forget.

Damon stopped his work long enough to toss me a look over his shoulder. As he sat back, grabbing his bottle of beer, I sensed he had questions I wasn’t interested in answering.

“Tough lady.” His two words were followed by Maddox bristling. “I take it there’s bad memories.”

“She turned up dead. I found out because of a report I wrote early in my career. She was used and tossed away.”

Maddox looked me directly in the eyes. The understanding we shared was growing much like the connection that seemed unstoppable.

“Man, oh, man. I’m sorry to hear that.” Damon rubbed his jaw as he studied me.

“We can go down memory lane later. What the hell is on the drive?” Maddox demanded. “She doesn’t need to be reminded of the past.”

“It’s okay,” I said as I leaned over, pressing my hand against Maddox’s leg. “The time spent in the facility was lonely at first, but I was one of the lucky ones to be adopted by an incredible family. So many aren’t. They dream of birthdays and Christmas morning, of having their own room and even a pet to keep them company at night.” The memories were bittersweet. “At least I was lucky. I owe my parents everything.”

“How fortunate for you that you found your family. I think she’s good for you, Maddox.” He grinned and Maddox gave him a stern glare. Damon returned to the computers. The information on the jump drive had been encoded. Given I’d been told the man was an expert hacker, I hoped perhaps we’d learn the truth.

“How much longer is this going to take?” Maddox asked, his impatience showing by the intense pulse in the thick cords of his neck.

“Not long. Whoever put the files together was savvy, using unusual techniques to keep the files from being hacked. Multiple layers are involved, some I’ve never seen before. You don’t have any clue who gave it to you?”

“Not really,” I answered. “I was contacted by an unknown texter that I met with. He stated I would find something of interest at the orphanage I visited. When I pressed, the unknown source told me I’d be contacted in El Salvador with additional information. And he dropped the term of Mercury Fulminate. In truth, I assumed it had to do with the article I wrote about Alfaro, but I wasn’t certain.”

“Tough and ballsy,” Damon laughed. “What are you going to do with the information?”

I glanced at Maddox after Damon’s question. We hadn’t talked about the outcome.

“It’s best you don’t know,” Maddox told him. “Whatever is on that drive is worth killing over.”

“I take it the Feds weren’t helpful?” Damon’s question was lost in the excitement as he pulled up what appeared to be an Excel spreadsheet.

I tossed the carton onto the table in front of me, quickly rising to my feet. When I almost tripped over the table leg, Maddox was forced to catch me. The feel of having his arms wrapped around me pulled a slight moan from my lips.

He’d been my savior more than once, but the connection we shared was so much more than just being grateful for his heroism.

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