expert. “I will fucking gut you if you do.”
“Guess you were telling the truth,” they heard Wells say a few seconds later as the incoming call was terminated.
Desperate grunts followed, the sound of a subdued struggle recognizable to every man in the room.
Still tapping away at his keyboard, Reed glanced at his boss. He’d never seen Kane so pale, but that didn’t stop the man from working. He had a picture up of a woman, very early twenties, pretty with blond hair but already showing signs of drug abuse.
Julie Isabelle Brown, prostitution, drug possession, distribution, active warrant out for her arrest…
Kane punched in the cell number listed on Julie’s bond record into the tracking software as the struggle on the other end of Dani’s phone concluded with Wells crowing in victory.
“Hope you don’t mind dry swallowing, bitch.”
* * *
“ Y ou have Ops Control ,” Kane said, jumping up from the workstation and stripping off his tailored jacket.
“The hell I do,” Reed shot back. “Marcus, get your ass over here.”
Kane rounded on Reed, murder dancing in his gaze. “Marcus doesn’t have your level of OC experience, now stop wasting my fucking time.”
“And I don’t have yours, so maybe you should sit your ass down,” Reed countered. “Plus, you’re obviously going tactical on this and—”
Wrapping his hand around the collar of Reed’s shirt, Kane jerked him close. “Don’t explain company protocol to me.”
Reed smirked and the urge to punch his smug face bordered on uncontrollable. Kane forced his fingers to unclench, his hands dropping to his sides.
“Unless you want to roll out there as a civilian, with just your personal weapons and vehicle and no updates from this room…”
Reed let the unfinished threat hang in the air. Seeing no change in Kane’s expression, he changed tactics.
“Marcus, get Stark on the line.”
“Don’t move, Marcus,” Kane growled.
The young man at the command console froze except for the darting of his eyes between the two most senior men in the building at that moment. The only one who could veto either of them was the man he’d just been ordered to call.
Kane finally released the breath of air he’d been holding in, his gaze flicking to the big clock in the operations room. “Marcus, if you screw up—”
“I know, you’ll gut me.”
Kane acknowledge the threat with a wolfish smile then sprinted from the room. Reed chased after him, reaching the tactical garage thirty seconds after Kane.
“There’s a reason you don’t do tactical anymore,” Kane glared as Reed shrugged into a bulletproof vest.
“Yeah, yeah,” he groused. “I’m an old man with three fused vertebrae. I can still outshoot your stubborn ass.”
“With a scope at five hundred yards,” Kane answered drolly, holstering a second sidearm. Next he shoved a comm link in his ear. “Marcus, tell me you have something.”
“Still pinging Miss Marquardts’ phone but we need another cell tower for direction of travel,” Marcus answered, his reply earning a deep scowl he couldn’t see. “The car service was a Tap&Ride—”
“We’ve got a backdoor into their database,” Kane interrupted.
Stark International had put in an at-cost bid on all the major car service applications, convincing the companies that ran them that their liability risks were too high without driver accountability via GPS tracking. The fine print on the contracts they had won referenced routine system checks. The scope of those checks meant they could engage in 24/7 tracking of over a quarter million drivers in the U.S. and Europe.
“Already working on that, sir. We’re trying to establish a connection with the driver’s GPS.”
“Feed any coordinates into Tac 6,” Reed ordered, grabbing the keys to the tactical van off the hook before Kane could snatch them up. Muffling his comm link, he looked at his boss and friend. “Dani wants you there in one piece.”
Kane snorted, a
“Guess you were telling the truth,” they heard Wells say a few seconds later as the incoming call was terminated.
Desperate grunts followed, the sound of a subdued struggle recognizable to every man in the room.
Still tapping away at his keyboard, Reed glanced at his boss. He’d never seen Kane so pale, but that didn’t stop the man from working. He had a picture up of a woman, very early twenties, pretty with blond hair but already showing signs of drug abuse.
Julie Isabelle Brown, prostitution, drug possession, distribution, active warrant out for her arrest…
Kane punched in the cell number listed on Julie’s bond record into the tracking software as the struggle on the other end of Dani’s phone concluded with Wells crowing in victory.
“Hope you don’t mind dry swallowing, bitch.”
* * *
“ Y ou have Ops Control ,” Kane said, jumping up from the workstation and stripping off his tailored jacket.
“The hell I do,” Reed shot back. “Marcus, get your ass over here.”
Kane rounded on Reed, murder dancing in his gaze. “Marcus doesn’t have your level of OC experience, now stop wasting my fucking time.”
“And I don’t have yours, so maybe you should sit your ass down,” Reed countered. “Plus, you’re obviously going tactical on this and—”
Wrapping his hand around the collar of Reed’s shirt, Kane jerked him close. “Don’t explain company protocol to me.”
Reed smirked and the urge to punch his smug face bordered on uncontrollable. Kane forced his fingers to unclench, his hands dropping to his sides.
“Unless you want to roll out there as a civilian, with just your personal weapons and vehicle and no updates from this room…”
Reed let the unfinished threat hang in the air. Seeing no change in Kane’s expression, he changed tactics.
“Marcus, get Stark on the line.”
“Don’t move, Marcus,” Kane growled.
The young man at the command console froze except for the darting of his eyes between the two most senior men in the building at that moment. The only one who could veto either of them was the man he’d just been ordered to call.
Kane finally released the breath of air he’d been holding in, his gaze flicking to the big clock in the operations room. “Marcus, if you screw up—”
“I know, you’ll gut me.”
Kane acknowledge the threat with a wolfish smile then sprinted from the room. Reed chased after him, reaching the tactical garage thirty seconds after Kane.
“There’s a reason you don’t do tactical anymore,” Kane glared as Reed shrugged into a bulletproof vest.
“Yeah, yeah,” he groused. “I’m an old man with three fused vertebrae. I can still outshoot your stubborn ass.”
“With a scope at five hundred yards,” Kane answered drolly, holstering a second sidearm. Next he shoved a comm link in his ear. “Marcus, tell me you have something.”
“Still pinging Miss Marquardts’ phone but we need another cell tower for direction of travel,” Marcus answered, his reply earning a deep scowl he couldn’t see. “The car service was a Tap&Ride—”
“We’ve got a backdoor into their database,” Kane interrupted.
Stark International had put in an at-cost bid on all the major car service applications, convincing the companies that ran them that their liability risks were too high without driver accountability via GPS tracking. The fine print on the contracts they had won referenced routine system checks. The scope of those checks meant they could engage in 24/7 tracking of over a quarter million drivers in the U.S. and Europe.
“Already working on that, sir. We’re trying to establish a connection with the driver’s GPS.”
“Feed any coordinates into Tac 6,” Reed ordered, grabbing the keys to the tactical van off the hook before Kane could snatch them up. Muffling his comm link, he looked at his boss and friend. “Dani wants you there in one piece.”
Kane snorted, a
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