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REN

Bishop Security Headquarters

Beaufort, South Carolina

T he basement of the converted school that housed Bishop Security was Charlotte “Twitch” Devlin’s domain.

She and Ren’s best friend from his SEAL squad, Andrew “Chat” Dunlap, handled anything tech-related.

That included everything from creating and installing security systems to protecting client networks from breaches.

Twitch and Chat were currently examining the adhesive patch Ren found on his laptop, standing head-to-head over a magnifier. Chat turned the tweezers this way and that. His nickname was a facetious nod to Chat’s laconic nature, and today was no exception.

“Fascinating.”

“And?” Ren pushed.

Twitch added, “This is so cool.” Apparently, Chat’s gift of no-gab was catching.

“Can you two throw some nouns and verbs in, please?”

Twitch sat and rolled her chair back to her workstation. “It is a wireless adapter, but it seems to transmit on a nearly undetectable frequency.”

“I work remotely on that computer. Has our system been hacked?” Ren asked.

“Now that we would have detected. No, our network is fine,” Chat assured him.

Twitch continued, “But someone was using this little friend to access information on your machine—emails, saved documents, downloads. I’ve locked down your computer, but data has been accessed.”

Ren made a mental inventory of his home computer as a pool of hot lava boiled in his gut. He didn’t realize Chat had come beside him.

Chat placed a hand on Ren’s shoulder. “What is it? Do you know why this happened? I haven’t seen that look on your face in a long time, brother.”

Ren knew precisely what Chat meant. In a flash, he was back in his childhood bedroom, standing there, staring at the camera hidden in his bookshelf. Chat knew the story. Ren had confessed the source of his issues years ago.

Ren was slow to anger, but as their teammate, Steady, said, the longer the fuse, the bigger the bomb.

“It’s not the ‘what’ or the ‘why,’” Ren said with deadly calm. “It’s the who.”

Twitch stood and shoved some equipment into a satchel. “Let’s head over to your apartment.”

A fter performing a thorough sweep, Twitch located and removed a button camera from a desk lamp in Ren’s living room.

She only found one, but Ren was betting there had been more.

He walked into the kitchen and stared down at the back courtyard.

Blackness coated his thoughts like spilled ink.

He didn’t make a list, but if he had, it would only contain one item.

Find Sofria Kirk.