Page 10 of Broken Trust
“What clicked?” Dante’s tone came with a gritty edge of command.
“It reminded me of how Liam used to operate on his former SEAL team.” Her fingers were shaking, and she gripped the arms of her chair to steady them.
Her stomach wobbled, but Sophie placed a hand on her arm that reminded her that she wasn’t under investigation.
“Instead of ignoring that pattern I saw, I asked myself, if Liam were alive, what would he be doing? Liam’s a knife guy. There was a blackout, a surge of people and noise, then a terrorist was dead. That felt like Liam’s signature.”
“Christ.” Dante looked like he might throw up.
“I dug through flight records and learned a military aircraft landed where Liam was last seen. It made me question if he really could be alive, but had gone underground.”
“Blackout.” Sophie’s murmur sent ripples up and down Elin’s arms.
She nodded and then met Dante’s gaze. He looked even greener. “I assure you everything is locked down. There are absolutely no breaches in your system.”
She looked to Sophie. “And I assure you that I only put myself in your path because I might be the only person who has the skills to stop this.” She waved at a countdown clock on the wall.
Dante raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or terrified.”
“Both.” Elin attempted a smile that felt weak at best. “Be both.”
Sophie squeezed her arm. “We need you. Whatever your reasons for being here, we need your skills.”
“Then let’s get to work.” Elin turned back to her monitors, relieved that they didn’t question her further about her relationship with Liam.
A new set of boots echoed in the hallway. Heavier and deliberate. The cadence she’d memorized without ever meaning to.
Liam.
She ducked lower behind her monitors, angling her chair so the screens blocked her from view of the doorway. Her hands flew across the keyboard as she attempted to appear completely absorbed in her work.
But her pulse was hammering against her ribs like it was trying to escape. Her breath came shorter, shallower, and she had to force herself to keep typing, keep moving. To look like she wasn’t falling apart at the mere sound of his footsteps.
The boots paused outside the door.
Her fingers froze over the keys.
Then the steps moved on, fading down the hallway toward wherever he was going.
Elin’s breath trickled out slowly, and she willed her heart to calm down.
Three days, she told herself. She just had to survive three days.
THREE
Mason stood at the kitchen sink, scrubbing a pan that was already clean. If he couldn’t shoot or throw knives at a target, he could at least take some satisfaction in the mindless task.
Cleaning also gave him an excuse to stay inside while everyone else migrated to the back patio. The glow of the propane heaters mixed with the twinkle lights some of the ladies hung. Voices carried through the doors and laughter punctuated the evening air.
He didn’t want to be out there, making small talk and pretending that everything was normal when Elin was somewhere in this mansion, breathing the same air, existing in his world when she was supposed to be safe and far away.
His gaze drifted around the counter and landed on a countdown clock. Five days, fifteen hours. The red digital numbers blinked steadily, a constant reminder of the disaster they were racing to stop.
One of the ladies had placed the clock on a wooden tray and added a scented candle and a small plant, green and thriving in stark contrast to the warning red numbers. The décor made the clock into just another kitchen accessory, such as a cutting board or a bowl of fruit, instead of a harbinger of catastrophe.
Alyssa, Chase’s significant other, entered the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. She stopped, and noticed him noticing the clock.
He arched a brow in question.
