Page 40 of Sweet Deception (Irish Kings #4)
Once the second part of his message sinks in, sirens of alarm wail through me. Before the upload’s complete or I can say yes , a scuffle outside the server room reverberates through the door. I freeze.
A handful of monitors are bolted to the back wall near the ceiling, each displaying the feed from a different security camera. When my eyes flicker to the one with the most movement, my stomach plummets.
Shit.
Darren’s in the hall just outside the server room. Apparently, he decided to save my ass instead of setting traps like the plan dictated.
My heart literally stops when Troy Sullivan steps into view.
With sickening clarity, I realize that this is my fault.
Darren was trying to protect me, and now Troy and his men will capture him while I’m in here betraying his—and his family’s—trust.
My mind races. More static and shuffling transmits from Darren’s end of the line as I watch everything on the other side of the door play out.
Two of Troy’s cronies wrestle him to the ground.
“If it isn’t one of Shane’s boys.”
Troy squats so he’s looming over Darren at close range. He tilts his head from side to side, tsking . I can both see and hear him. Fantastic, I’m witnessing three giant guys taking Darren down in surround sound.
“Should’ve expected to see you here sooner or later. You’re in league with that little Kotova bitch, aren’t you?”
My lungs cease working when Troy mentions my name. Hand flying over my mouth, I rear back from the monitors.
This is bad. This is very, very bad.
“Who?” Darren grunts. “A friend of yours?”
Shock immobilizes me. I can’t believe this. Even now, Darren’s shielding me. Even when protecting me means getting himself caught.
Troy scoffs. “Nice try. We have you on camera breaking into her apartment building. You scooped her out from under us, you shit.”
“Doesn’t sound like me.” Darren struggles against the grip of the men pinning him down. “I’m not exactly the scooping-up type.” Then he smirks. “Who’s she to you, the one that got away? What’s the matter, Troy, can’t keep a girl happy? Oh, right, we already knew that.”
He’s taunting Troy to divert his attention. Or maybe he’s trying to find out what the other man knows. Darren’s good under pressure.
Still, I need to help him. To try to do something. But what?
“Little Veronika Kotova is a loose end that needs to be taken care of,” Troy growls. “Just like you.” The man rises to full height like he’s about to kick Darren in the face.
More alarm bells shriek in my head, but what can I do that won’t cause both our deaths?
Troy continues blasting Darren, showcasing his fury with the Kings.
“First, you sell me that disloyal bitch, Riley, then the Gallagher heir beats the shit out of me and locks me in a cell. Now you’re interfering with something that doesn’t fucking concern you.
If you all just disappeared, my life would be cake. You know that?”
Troy spits on the concrete, barely missing Darren’s beautiful face. I’ve never wanted to elbow a man in the dick so badly.
In a calm, lazy voice, Darren says, “This is where you seem confused. I really don’t want your life to be better, Troy.”
Part of me cheers Darren’s defiance, but the rest of me is terrified that neither of us will survive this.
I glimpse away from the scene unfolding to check the trackers. Rory’s needs more time to complete the upload of Red Hill’s mainframe files. I take out the tablet I’d literally strapped around my torso. On it, an error message flashes red.
Rory’s tracker is struggling to establish its connection. The upload progress has stalled at sixty-five percent.
I quickly diagnose the problem.
My tracker has priority, and it’s slowing the other one down.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
Without Rory’s tracking device fully connected, the Kings will have no way to monitor the server activity in real time. I pull up the command screen, fingers hovering over the code that would disable my personal tracker. It might be the only way, but…
Before I can make the choice to disconnect it, the doorknob to the server room turns. I drop down to my knees, out of sight, and fold my body under the only thing in here big enough to hide me—the table housing the servers.
Bozhe moy , that was close. I’m just praying that the hum of technological equipment masks my movements and breathing.
Above me, Rory’s tracker continues its sluggish progress.
Sixty-seven percent…
Seventy-three percent…
Too late to do anything now. I’ll just have to hope Rory’s tracker reaches the finish line before we all die.
From beneath the desk, I see Troy’s shiny designer shoes. He circles slowly, like a predator certain of his prey. My tablet silently signals that the Gallagher upload and link is finally complete, but I’m trapped.
Darren, who’s still being held down in the hallway, continues to provoke Troy. “I see that face job Finn gave you is healing up nicely.”
He must be trying to reclaim Troy’s attention so he’ll leave, but I don’t think that strategy is working.
For a few tense seconds, the angry man stands at the table’s edge, his feet pointing toward me. I stop breathing entirely, but that can only last so long.
Finally, his fancy shoes turn away, and he struts right out of the room, letting the door slam shut behind him.
As soon as I’m alone, I release a gusty breath.
That’s when the distinctive cock of a gun assaults my ears. I climb out from under the table as my eyes fly to the monitors.
Troy has his gun trained on Darren.
If I don’t do something, the only man to ever capture my heart will end up in that corpse pond out back.
All because of me.