Page 25 of Sadistic Retribution

Ignoring him, I pinch the space between my brows. I look towards Thor. “Any updates on either girl?”

“Nothing substantial. I'm still working on Augustine’s folders. So far, the number sequences are all similar. I think I’m onto something, but have nothing to back it up yet.”

“In other words, not enough for Boss Man to sanction a move,” Bill quips.

“He’s such a hard ass,” Thor mutters.

The door opens. “What was that, Thor?” Jax looms in the doorway with someone else slightly behind him.

Thor blushes, ducking his head. “Nothing. Not a thing.” He makes a show of turning back to his screen, typing away.

The new guy behind Jax steps forward a bit. He's very tall—over six-foot-four from the looks of it. Built of muscle, with big hands and big feet.

He's wearing glasses, but his blue eyes sparkle in amusement when he speaks. “I’m Trav. And yeah, it’s all big.” His deep voice echoes through the room, making Bill snort a laugh.

“Trav is one of our snipers, and muscle when needed,” Jax supplies.

“Ex-Navy SEAL,” Trav adds.

I nod in appreciation. “Harris. Good to meet you.”

“Likewise. I’m a good-hearted guy who likes to use humor, when I can. I have a black belt in Taekwondo,” Trav offers up.

Jax claps me on the back. “Harris, come with me. I want to talk to you.”

“Sure.” Trav heads another direction, and I follow Jax out of the room, heading down the right side of the hallway. We go up a set of stairs and into another hallway. I haven’t been to this part of the compound yet.

Curious, I look around. We pass by a lot of closed doors.

“What are all these rooms for?” I ask Jax.

“Offices, and living quarters for myself, mostly. Some are not for anyone to see.”

I smile in respect. “Of course, I get it.”

He leads me to the last door on the left, ushering me inside.

“This is my office,” he explains. I glance around the space, impressed by how high-tech everything is. It's spacious as hell. He has a large oak desk in the center, with a huge dark brown leather office chair. The walls are mostly bare, except for a few random landscape portraits. Against the wall are two huge glass computer desks, filled with monitors, multiple keyboards, and stacks of paper scattered over them. A printer/fax machine stands in the corner. Two large bookshelves line the back walls, filled with books, various knick-knacks, and other personal items. I shuffle closer.

There are military handbooks, dictionaries, books on shooting, knife use, computer manuals. There are even a few medical books mixed in. The second shelf holds fiction. Typical guy-types of authors, like Stephen King, Dean Koontz, James Patterson. I peer at the bottom shelf, barely able to hold back a snort of laughter as I peruse the titles—Alpha Wolf, Zodiac Academy,the entire Elite Kings series by Amo Jones.

“Nice,” I comment, nodding in appreciation and stopping myself from teasing him on his reading tastes.

“Have a seat, Harris.”

I lower myself into a very comfortable leather armchair close to his desk, and he sits, also.

“I wanted to talk to you about potentially joining us permanently once your assignment has concluded. Be one of the ZYGOS team.” Jax pauses. “I founded ZYGOS several years ago. I ran a street gang growing up and into my adulthood. I did despicable things. The one good thing I ever did was create my... daughter, Violet.” He looks away for a minute, then clears his throat. “She was only two-years-old when she was gunned down right in fucking front of me. Her little body was hit with so many bullets... I couldn’t... I couldn’t get to her in time. The fucks who killed her never did any time. They got off on a technicality.”

My jaw is on the floor. “God, Jax…I am so sorry.”

He waves off my apology. “ZYGOS is a Greek word meaning balance—justice. I wanted to get that for innocent victims. I met a couple of my guys, who were on board with this whole thing. I built this place up from there. I only recruit people who have fucked up, but have atoned, and who have the skills we need.”

I nod, completely understanding him. “So, my past qualifies me?”

“Absolutely,” he confirms, steepling his fingers under his chin. “We want you with us. You would be a hell of an asset to us.”

I arch a brow, knowing this was possible—but certainly not expected. “In what capacity? My hacking skills are pretty basic, and my fighting skills need some work. I'm a decent shot, though.”