Page 41 of Beyond Protection
I didn't want to look. Had to look.
Observation: Subject shows increased agitation following morning exercise. Companion's influence detrimental. Extraction timeline accelerated. Will contact soon with restoration parameters.
I set the phone on the table.
"They're not waiting anymore," I said quietly. "Whatever they're planning, it's happening soon."
Chapter six
Eamon
The new deadbolt made a different sound from the old one—the precise sound of metal catching metal, meaning it would hold. I tested it twice, then checked the camera feeds on my laptop: the front porch, side yard, and the back alley. Nothing moved except the neighbor's cat.
Footsteps on the stairs. Mac hit the landing and rounded into the kitchen before I'd closed the laptop. Dark green jacket. Keys in hand.
"You planning an escape?" I asked.
He smiled—the real one, not the one for cameras. "Planning coffee."
"You don't have clearance for coffee away from here."
"Then clear it." He leaned against the doorframe. "I'm going stir-crazy."
Calculations rattled off in my mind—public exposure: high risk.
"Where?"
"Reserve Roastery. Maybe Pike Place after."
I touched my beard. Caught myself. Mac tracked the gesture but didn't comment.
"Medium to high risk," I said. "But manageable if we control the variables. I drive. We take the route I choose. You stay where I can see you. And if I say we leave, we leave. Agreed?"
"You really think the stalker's going to hit me with a latte?"
"I think complacency kills."
Mac's smile faded. Recognition. He'd heard the subtext under the tactical speak.
"Okay," he said quietly. "Your show, but I need to move, Eamon. I need to be somewhere that isn't these four walls closing in while they wait for something to happen."
I closed my laptop. "Give me five minutes to update Michael."
Mac exhaled. "Thank you."
He laughed. It was a heartfelt sound that came from his chest instead of his throat. I added it to the growing list of details that weren't part of the threat assessment but lodged in my brain anyway.
It wasn't relevant to keeping him alive, but it made maintaining professional distance harder than it should have been.
My rental car was a gray Accord, parked facing out. Mac folded himself into the passenger seat without argument and buckled in.
I started the engine. Checked mirrors. Scanned the street in both directions.
I pulled out, taking Aurora north, even though it added time. The route gave me visibility and multiple turn options.
Mac cracked his window.
"Close that," I said.
