Page 22 of Forbidden Boss

He answers on the second ring. “Agent Halloran.”

“It’s me,” I say, keeping my voice low.

I hear the rustle of papers and assume he’s moving to another location, as he always does when I call. Agent Halloran is my man inside the FBI. I’ve had him on the take for years, since I realized how valuable it would be to have someone keep an eye on any federal investigations.

“Are there any active or pending cases on me or Levcon?” I ask when I hear him settle. “Has anyone authorized interviews with my staff in the last seven days?”

There’s the sound of typing, and I wait while he searches his screen.

“No active Title Three,” he says slowly. “No probable cause orders. No field interviews scheduled for your domains.” He pauses. “There was a routine analytics sweep on the corporate side, but it passed last quarter without any red flags.”

That doesn’t make sense. A federal agent visited Mari. I have his fucking card in my hand right now.

“Can you run a name?” I ask. “Agent Graham Cole in the Manhattan office.”

“Not in my house,” he answers quickly, then there’s the sound of more typing. “There’s a Cole in Los Angeles on retirement counseling. No one here is using that name.”

“The card says Manhattan,” I say.

“Give me the phone number.”

I do.

He snorts. “That’s a public line. Nobody who calls that number is getting through to a human.”

“So no one is gathering intel on me?” I ask, as unease settles in my gut.

“Only your usual admirers,” he says. “Want me to pull anything?”

“No.” My voice stays flat. “Call me if a field office blinks in my direction.”

“You’ll get notice before a judge sees a form.”

I end the call and set the phone down. I pick up the card and turn it between my fingers. It’s a good forgery, I’ll give him that. It had me properly fooled, but now I realize that the stock is too glossy. The eagle’s eye is dead. The hotline uses hyphens, which federal printers avoid. The microline along the bottom is missing. I’m angry at myself for falling for this in the first place.

If it isn’t the Bureau, then Mari was targeted before this morning.

I think about the photo at the gate. I think about the hit on Delancey. Once again, I’m forced to wonder if this is all part of the same attack. It’s too much of a coincidence not to be. It’s all happened in such tight succession.

Suddenly, I’m wary of everyone in my circle. Who can I trust with this?

I text Yuri, because he truly is the only person I can be sure won’t betray me.

Pull video logs of the property from last night. Include the ridge line and the road. If a toy helicopter flew over my trees, I want the time it launched and the place it landed.

He replies with a single dot, his code for moving.

I text Marcus.

Two teams to her building in twenty. She chooses. They pack. Change locks by nightfall. No one touches her floor without my say.

Understood, boss.

Yet another fucking problem. This man, whoever he is, went to Mari’s apartment. Her roommate let him in. Now I’ll need to keep her safe as well.

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MARI