Live Wire by Lora Leigh Page A

damned satellite phone for over a month, every day straight, and in the nine months before that I called more than a dozen times. Kira has been trying to contact you since you left. I don’t give a damn what you believe, but it’s your fucking ass we’ve been worried about.”
    He watched her eyes narrow, her lips thin. “No one has called me, Jordan. I’ve kept the phone on me night and day just in case, and trust me, I checked it for calls, messages, and texts, and they weren’t there.”
    The rough, aching vein of pain in her voice had him stilling and watching her closely. She was hurt. He could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. The thought that none of the team had contacted her in all this time had hurt her. And he couldn’t blame her.
    “Where’s the phone?” But he knew damned well and good he had called her a dozen times or more before the information had come in that she was at risk. And he sure as hell knew he’d been calling almost hourly until he stepped into her home. That didn’t count the number of calls Kira and Bailey had both made.
    He watched the suspicion darken her eyes before she moved her hand behind her and a second later pulled the cell phone free from her back pocket.
    She slapped it into his hand.
    “I’ve checked the security on it weekly,” she informed him. “Nothing’s come up, so no one has tampered with it. I carry the damned thing with me and use it for business, so I know you haven’t called.”
    She had a computer program that the phone plugged into. The computer ran through the phone’s programs for any hidden trackers or cyberbots that could have found it.
    Jordan popped the back of the sat phone, knowing something was wrong somewhere. If her security program had come back clear, then that left only one other answer. Someone had done something before it left base with her, after the more secure Elite Ops information had been erased from it. It was the only way it could have been tampered with and only a select few had the ability to do it.
    “Kira and Bailey both called you the first week after the group disbanded and left messages,” he told her as he popped the battery from the phone to check the only vulnerability left. “I called the morning you left to chew your ass out for leaving without saying good-bye.” He flicked her a look that promised retribution for that little trip.
    She ignored it.
    Clenching his teeth, he turned his attention back to the phone.
    He found the problem in less than a minute.
    It looked innocent enough. No more than a small metal prong among several others, yet appearing oddly out of place, set within the small programming section of the internal security chip located just beneath the battery pack.
    Jordan pressed the tip of his nail against the prong he knew shouldn’t be there, breaking it off.
    Pulling his own phone from the clip at his side, he found and pressed the button preprogrammed for her number. A second later, the phone rang.
    Tehya stared at the phone as he flipped it closed, cutting off the call, and held his hand out, the little piece of metal lying in his palm.
    “It’s been receiving calls,” she said faintly, but she wasn’t doubting him. Jordan had no reason to lie to her.
    “It’s an additional tracker. It allows the master program to track all calls, messages, and e-mails in or out. It can also be preprogrammed to re-route specific numbers or e-mails,” he said. “The tracker is used on phones given to assets and contacts rather than operatives, though, and placed in phones belonging to suspects or marks if possible. It shouldn’t have been on your phone.” It was only used with those whose trust was in question. Tehya’s trust was never in question.
    “Then someone at base messed with it,” she guessed, that ache in her chest tightening further at the suspicion as she accepted the phone when he handed it back to her. “Now, who would have done that?” she asked mockingly. She could only