Page 14 of Jonas (Silver Team #4)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

By the time I pulled into the hotel parking lot, the bitter knowledge of Derrika’s ‘teachings’ had turned caustic.

The impulse to find Derrika’s father and teach him a lesson that would likely be very different than the ones he tried to impart on his daughter coursed through me as Derrika and I walked into the lobby.

The more I thought about how small she’d sounded when she told me it was okay, the more the impulse to hunt, to hurt, to maim, grew.

I was the man I was, driven to protect because of abuse.

This was not a hurt-people-hurt-people scenario.

My need was beaten into me one blow at a time—the need to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves, the need to inflict punishment on those who harmed the innocent, the need to give power to those who had none.

Derrika might’ve found her independence, but before that something big had been stolen from her—by her father.

The man who was supposed to love and shield her from harm.

The cruelty of that engulfed me in an all-encompassing anger, snuffing out any vestiges of humanity I had left.

Later, I’d wonder why the intensity of my reaction was overwhelmingly merciless.

The harming of a child was abhorrent—that child being Derrika was repugnant.

That was for later. So was my anger.

Now, I needed to make sure Derrika was safe to talk to some asshole who’d been lurking outside her apartment building, of whom we knew next to nothing about.

Later, I would also need to contemplate why I’d backed her play and given in to this insanity. My only hope was that she was correct and Daryl wouldn’t open fire in a hotel.

Derrika nudged me with her elbow. “That’s him.”

I glanced across the lobby into the mostly deserted bar area tucked into the corner of the lobby.

There was a single woman sitting at a table.

A couple at the table next to her. Fuck me.

Daryl was sitting alone at a table removed from the others with his back to the wall facing the door, giving him the tactical advantage of seeing who walked into the hotel.

And his eyes were aimed directly at us.

The fucker had clocked us the moment we’d come through the doors. I, on the other hand, was having a murder fantasy and didn’t notice him.

My arm wrapped around Derrika’s waist, my fingers digging into her hip as I drew her close to my side.

“Jonas—”

“Give this to me.”

I was expecting her to argue or pull away. She did the opposite and returned the arm hold. Only her fingers glided over my holster under my shirt before they reversed direction and curled into my belt loop at the back of my cargos.

The lounge smelled like stale bourbon and wood polish. Walking in farther, the light changed from the brightness of the lobby to the warm glow of fake candles on the tables and pendant lights hanging from the ceiling.

Daryl tracked our approach. The closer we got, the tighter the knot coiled in my stomach.

The man didn’t look surprised to see us.

Nor did he look concerned. His body language was relaxed, unaffected, and bored.

But his eyes gave him away. They shifted back and forth between me and Derrika—alert, wary, guarded.

Derrika wasted no time with her greeting, “Daryl Barns.”

“Amy Hart.” He dipped his chin, and with the glass in his hand, gestured to the seats across from him.

I debated whether we’d be there long enough to accept his offer. Derrika made the decision for me and uncurled her fingers. Before she could pull out a chair, I let her go and did it for her. My ass had barely hit the padded leather cushion when she launched in.

“In an effort not to take up too much of your night, we’ll cut through the bullshit. Who hired you?”

Daryl kept his gaze on Derrika, swirled the ice in his glass, and took his time answering. It was a ploy, an exercise in power. One that was wasted on us.

Unfortunately, the posturing continued. “Hired me?”

“Let’s not play dumb.” I could practically hear the eye roll in Derrika’s tone. “You were outside of my apartment building this afternoon. We saw you get into a black Mercedes. The same one that followed me home from work. Who hired you?”

His gaze flicked to me, then back to Derrika, then back to me.

“And you are?”

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him to go fuck himself and answer. But I was with Derrika and I’d prefer this talk didn’t take up the rest of our night.

“Jonas Lang. I work for Z Corps.”

Before I could ask him if he’d ever heard of us, his eyes flashed with recognition and a healthy dose of fear.

Good.

The fuck had reason to be scared of me.

“Lou Peterson.”

The speed with which Daryl gave up his boss was almost laughable.

“Lou Peterson?” Derrika parroted. “Why did he hire you to follow me?”

Another round of his eyes ping ponging between me and Derrika.

“He wants proof you’re having an affair with Anson Sutton.”

Derrika glanced at me, her expression neutral, but there was inquiry in her gaze.

“Why does he think Amy’s having an affair with Anson?” I took over for Derrika.

“He didn’t say specifically but made mention he’s putting her up in his private apartment. He wanted bugs in her apartment and pictures if possible.”

Motherfucker.

“Listening devices. Not cameras?” I asked.

“I didn’t have cameras available. He didn’t want to wait, so just listening devices.”

“Who was in the Mercedes that picked you up?” Derrika rejoined.

“Lou’s driver.”

“There was another man in the car, who’s he?”

“Keith. That’s all he gave me.”

“Who is he?” Derrika went on.

Daryl brought his glass to his mouth, draining the rest of the amber liquid. When he was finished, his attention landed on me.

“I didn’t sign up to tangle with Zane Lewis.

I also don’t want to know why you’re involved in this.

I was hired to get proof Anson was stepping out on his wife.

Beyond that, I don’t know what Lou was going to do with the evidence.

I didn’t ask. Lou’s driver dropped me off at the Hemingway.

He gave me a key fob with instructions to enter through the garage to bypass the lobby, gave me two hours to plant the bugs.

He said he’d keep Amy occupied and if he couldn’t, he’d call to warn me.

He called, told me I had fifteen minutes to finish, and meet him out front.

I did the job I was hired to do and was picked up. That’s it. That’s all I know.”

“And Keith, how does he fit into this?” Derrika pushed.

“No idea. He didn’t say and I didn’t care enough to ask. Lou Peterson offered me ten thousand dollars for two hours’ worth of work, travel expenses paid, and a card on file for incidentals.”

So Keith could’ve been a fake name.

“Have you ever heard the name Seth Hackett?” Derrika asked.

“No.”

Derrika sat back in her chair, her gaze assessing the man across from her.

“Did you put listening devices in my bedroom?”

“Yes.”

Her lip curled at his answer.

“You’re a dick,” she spat.

The man didn’t hesitate to shrug.

“As far as I know, you’re having an affair with a man who’s old enough to be your father and who has been married for over forty years.”

“Well, I’m not.”

He shrugged again like it was all the same to him.

“Are we done?” he asked, no longer posturing but instead wanting to make a hasty exit.

“You tell us,” Derrika drawled. “Is there anything else you need to tell us?”

“We’re done.” Daryl pushed back from the table. When he stood, he demanded, “Tell your boss I did what I was hired to do but I’m out. If Lou calls again, I won’t be answering.”

There it was; he didn’t want to butt up against Zane or the power of Z Corps.

“I’ll give you that,” I told him before he could leave. “But if I find out you’ve been holding back, the next visit will be someplace private.”

“You won’t have any reason to find me.”

With that, he left Derrika and me sitting at the table alone.

“An affair,” she murmured. “What the hell?”

“Blackmail.”

Her gaze went to Daryl’s vacated seat and she nodded.

“He was scared of you,” she noted.

“He’s scared of Zane,” I corrected. “There aren’t many people who are stupid enough to fuck with him.

It’s also known he wouldn’t get involved in something as petty as a cheating spouse.

Daryl might be greedy enough to plant bugs in a woman’s home but he’s smart enough to not want to be involved in a situation that has garnered Z Corps’ attention. ”

“How’d Lou get the fob for the apartment?”

My phone vibrating in my back pocket was a good reminder we had more important shit to worry about than Lou trying to fleece Anson for whatever reason.

“We need to get back to the house,” I told her as I leaned to the side to retrieve my phone.

Easton’s name flashed on the screen.

“Got anything?” I asked by way of greeting as Derrika got up.

“Yeah, brother, this shit is FUBAR. Layla will be texting you with a new location to meet. Kira and Cooper have already been picked up. They have your stuff.”

Christ. We’d been gone less than two hours.

With my free hand, I tagged Derrika’s and towed her around the table toward the exit.

“You gonna fill me in?”

“Not right now. Coop said you and Derrika went to meet with Daryl Barns.”

“We did and we’re done. Lou Peterson hired him to get the goods on Anson Sutton. He thought Amy and Anson were having an affair.”

“There’s some shady shit going on at Delcon. They’re neck deep in it. Way fucking deeper than Kent Rapport knew.”

Well, fuck.

Now I had a new issue on my hands—over my dead body would Derrika be going back to work with that ominous statement.

My phone alerted me to a text.

“Copy that. Will you be at the new location?”

“The whole team will be.”

Before I could press for more answers, Easton disconnected.

“Everything okay?” Derrika asked as soon as I lowered my phone to check the text from a number I didn’t have saved in my phone but one I’d memorized. Layla’s burner. If she was texting me from her disposable with a three-digit code, shit wasn’t FUBAR—it was nearing DEFCON one.

“No,” I answered honestly.

“No?” she asked, trying to peek at my phone.

It wouldn’t matter if she did. Only people who worked at Z Corps would know what the numbers meant.

“I’ll explain in the car.”

My answer seemed to suffice since she asked nothing further.

The silence ended as soon as I was behind the wheel.

“What’s happening?”

I filled her in on the limited information I had.

She looked less than pleased and sounded even less so when she griped, “Guess I’m not going back.”

Thank fuck she wasn’t going to push that angle.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t sound sorry,” she rightly pointed out.

I wasn’t. But I wasn’t a man prone to gloat so I said nothing as I pulled out of the hotel’s parking lot.

“Where are we going?”

“A place on the Eastern shore of Maryland. We call it the farm and use it to train.”

“The farm? Like the CIA training facility?”

“No. It was an actual working dairy farm before Zane bought the land.”

I hadn’t been around then, but I’d heard some of the guys from Red Team bitching about having to clean cow shit out of some of the barns before they could repurpose the space into a shoot house.

One of the barns had been damaged after the farm had been breached, and one of the guy’s woman had been kidnapped from the property. Since then, Zane had upgraded the security around the perimeter and had two underground bunkers put in.

If we were headed to the farm and the fortification and protection it offered—shit had gone bad.

Really fucking bad.