Page 30 of Billion-Dollar Ransom

“NICKY.”

“Hmm?”

“ Kill it, Nicky.”

Nicky rolled over, mumbling something she intended to be a coherent sentence.

“Nicky,” Mike said, “I swear, if you don’t shoot it, I will.”

She struggled to swim up from the murky depths of unconsciousness.

“It’s on your side of the bed, honey.”

The alarm clock. Yes. The damned thing deserved to be shot because it was loud.

So loud, each sonic beep like a steel spike into her frontal lobe.

Never mind that Nicky had intentionally selected the most annoying tone at the loudest setting to rouse her out of dead sleep.

This infernal device deserved a bullet. The next bullet would be for herself.

Somehow, her hand found the off button, and they both roused themselves from her bed like middle-aged zombies. Nicky was used to her own solo frenzied morning routine, so it was a bit awkward to do this dance with Mike Hardy.

Somehow, they made it work, arriving downstairs together just before seven. Was Kaitlin up already? She’d been sound asleep when Nicky got home last night. Nicky hoped she wouldn’t be faced with the unpleasant task of waking a surly teenager.

As it turned out, Kaitlin was not only awake but frantically moving between the stovetop and the kitchen island and the fridge to the hum of a pop song on her portable speaker.

“Whoa, what is this, Special K?” Mike asked.

Kaitlin was clearly bursting with pride but tried hard to cover it up with the stern expression of a schoolteacher: “Well, since we seem to be running a hotel of sin here—”

“Hey,” Nicky said. “Watch it.”

“Whatever,” Kaitlin said. “Anyway, in keeping with the hotel idea, I’ve prepared breakfast. Mom, you have your usual boring options of overnight oats, fresh fruit, and hot tea.

And Mike, I understand you’re fond of those horrible frozen breakfast sandwiches that will probably kill you long before your time, so I came up with a healthier version: a turkey sausage patty with scrambled egg whites on a whole-wheat English muffin. ”

“I’m touched, K,” Mike said. “You don’t want me to die!”

“Not yet, anyway.”

Despite the bantering tone, Nicky knew that Mike really was touched, and Kaitlin did care about him. And while Nicky had no idea what she and Mike Hardy were to each other (and this was not the time to clarify), it felt good having her daughter’s approval.

“This looks amazing,” Mike said. “But what about you, kid? What are you having?”

“Well, I was so busy preparing this spread, I kind of forgot about myself. I’ll have a Pop-Tart on the way to school.”

“You will not,” Nicky said. “Have some oatmeal, at least.”

“Too late! Scarlet just texted, and she’s almost here, so I gotta scoot! You two have fun with your wildly complicated kidnapping case. Me and Scarlet and Callie might catch a movie later or maybe not.”

“Keep me posted on your whereabouts,” Nicky called out.

“Yes, Agent Gordon!” Kaitlin said as she left.

Mike smirked. “She does that to you too?”

“Yeah, you’re both annoying. Congratulations.”

Her abrupt exit made Nicky and Mike realize they’d better pack up their own breakfasts and try to eat on the way to Westwood. Their phones were already blowing up with overnight updates.

And then came a message Nicky hadn’t expected.

A text from Virgil Tighe at Capital.