was crazy, but that sounded beyond insane.
“He decided to send Trees an email as a ‘professional courtesy’ because he was on that mission in which he was captured. In it, he told Trees the location of the St. Louis safe house and even helpfully provided a floor plan. And Montilla showed up for his wife, with murder on his mind.”
Hunter nodded. “Prior to that, Montilla had sniffed around for days. But the minute Trees got that email, Montilla showed up to Valeria’s abandoned safe house in the middle of the night, sneaked in the back door, and went directly for the master bedroom—without a second of hesitation or a flicker of light.”
“Then Walker, that crazy motherfucker, knocked him out, hogtied him, put him face down in a bathtub, and started the water—after threatening to hook him up to a car battery.”
Yep, that sounded like Walker.
“That’s all circumstantial. It doesn’t mean Trees is the mole,” Zy argued. “What about a hacker? That Stone guy was here a few months back.”
“Stone didn’t put anything on our network. He was here for a favor.”
“It’s still possible we have some virus that allows someone to spy on our communications? Maybe they can read all our instant messages and emails.”
Logan gave a halfhearted shrug. “Anything is possible. In theory. But if someone else had done that, shouldn’t Trees have eradicated it?”
Since Trees was their tech guy, yeah. He’d put a metric shit-ton of security on the platform. “Nothing is foolproof.”
Logan turned to his brothers, who both shrugged.
“Fine.” Hunter stood. “We’ll have Stone scan it from top to bottom and see if there’s any digital trace of an information-stealing virus. But since we’re ninety-nine-percent sure that’s not the issue, you need to do something for us now—before anyone else gets hurt.”
Zy dreaded where this was going. He didn’t believe Trees would sell them out. He wouldn’t until he saw it with his own two eyes, and even then, he knew there would be extenuating circumstances. “What?”
“You keep insisting your buddy is innocent.”
“Because he is.”
“So we won’t make you look for clues that he’s guilty.” Hunter sounded almost magnanimous. “You just have to prove he’s innocent.”
“What? Why me? It’s your fucking company.”
“And he’s your fucking friend. If we start looking, it will be to prove his guilt. But you’ll do anything to show that he’s innocent. Besides, Trees is kind of paranoid. He’d know if any of us sneaked into his computer, truck, or house. But if you snoop around, he won’t think much of it. Just bring us concrete evidence that he’s not dirty and—”
“Like what? This is fucking ridiculous.”
Hunter shrugged. “Since we nearly lost one team member, we don’t think so. But if you can’t handle it, we’ll have no choice but to let him go.”
And that would crush Trees. He loved it here, and despite his hard outer shell, his buddy had a marshmallow center. “And if I refuse to do it?”
“We’ll still let him go, but it will be on your head.”
What motherfuckers. Zy hated being manipulated, but he had to play the hand he’d been dealt. “What constitutes ‘proof’ for you?”
“Let’s start with his financials. If they look clean, we’ll talk more. But we’re going to want to know who he’s talking to after hours, who he’s hooking up with, who his connections are. If you can give us a thorough forensic examination of his communications and they’re as squeaky clean as you claim, then we might be willing to admit we’re wrong.”
No, they wouldn’t. They were convinced, so his better bet was to figure out who might be guilty and work from there, because as much as he hated to admit it, the series of events from March to November made his buddy look guilty as fuck.
“How long do I have?”
“We’ll give you some time,” Logan assured.
Was that supposed to make him feel better about spying on the guy who was closer than a brother?
Hunter glared at his younger brother. “But not too long.”
“This is bullshit,” Zy growled.
“Well, as of right now, this is your only assignment.”
Hunter nodded in concurrence. “Better get busy.”
Joaquin didn’t say a word, just sent him a stoic expression, brow raised and smile tight.
Fuck. “You know what? Fine. I’ll take this stupid-ass assignment. And I’ll prove you assholes wrong.”
“Good. We expect your first report in two weeks. Now get the hell out.”
November 14
Another fucking Friday night alone.
Zy shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he wandered down the crowded, wind-whipped street. What the hell