She squinted at me. “Why am I getting Norman Bates’ vibes from you?”
I laughed. And it felt good. Nothing about this situation was nice, and the way I’d been feeling lately, after what had happened with Callum, laughter came as a relief.
It shouldn’t have surprised me that she gave me that.
As I wondered if she knew the light she brought to my life, still chuckling, I told her, “I don’t know. I don’t think I have my mother’s corpse in my apartment.”
“Good to know.”
Straightening up, I twisted the computer around so she could see what I was doing.
I’d hacked into her file at Langley, so I wasn’t concerned about her reaction. She hadn’t exactly bothered with The Hague Conventions on war crimes when she was an ex-CIA agent. And when I’d seen the reports on her when she was in captivity, the shit she’d done made this look like a day trip to the zoo.
Star sniffed. “There a reason for the Dr. Death setup?”
Impressed, I drawled, “You’ve been binging TV shows.” TV shows that weren’t even streaming yet.
“Maybe. You wouldn’t talk to me! What the hell else was I supposed to do?”
Smiling, I told her, “It’s been five days.”
Five very busy days.
Getting this guy into the warehouse here was easier than arranging a wedding in Boston, but it had still taken some time to make it look seamless.
People would come calling if I didn’t wrap this up nice and tight.
The ECD always collected their dead.
“Dude, don’t ‘it’s been five days’ me,” she grouched.
“You can see why I’ve been busy now, right?”
It was a half-truth, but I knew she’d give me shit for being a wedding planner for my brother’s nuptials.
“I do.” She peered up at me. “What’s he done?”
“You in a secure location?”
“Not really. Lily’s kitchen. But everyone’s out, including Tiffany’s mom—old hag,” she muttered under her breath.
“What about Katina?”
Kati was her foster daughter.
I wasn’t sure how someone like Star got a foster daughter, but if I could redirect Michael into my very own private hospital, then I didn’t think it would be too hard for a woman like Star to get herself a kid.
“She’s at school.”
I frowned. “What’s going on with her bullies?
“I broke one of their arms.”
Grinning, I told her, “I see being in a wheelchair for a while hasn’t slowed you down any.”
“Nope. God, it’s good to be out of those casts.” She stood up. “You’ve no idea how much of a luxury this is.” She sat down. Then stood up again. Then walked over to the fridge and returned. “Heaven.”
Her ass was definitely heaven.
“Dude, my eyes are up here.”
Smirking, I told her, “You put it right in front of me.”
“I expect an ass picture in return later on.”
“You mean the ones from the satellite weren’t good enough for you? I almost froze my balls off doing those snow angels for you.”
“It was grainy—”
“HELP!”
I cast Michael a glance.
“Rude,” Star grumbled.
“If you think that will help you,” I told him grimly. “You’re mistaken.”
“HELP!”
“Can’t you shut him up? That’s why God made duct tape, Conor.”
“I need him to talk or I’d tape his mouth. Want to see what my prototypes do?” I inquired.
“Sure,” she said as Michael screamed again.
Turning the laptop around, I triggered the program, and as he yowled like a cat, Star laughed.
“That’s awesome!”
The sounds of electricity whizzing along the airwaves sent shivers down my spine.
I loved electricity.
Without it, there were no computers.
No code.
Nothing to hack.
Life would be so boring without it, and there was nothing more fucking damaging than a live current.
When the program ran its short course, Michael started sobbing.
“He peed himself,” Star pointed out.
“Yup. That’s the second time he’s done that now. How long does it take for ammonia to rot skin?”
She pursed her lips. “I’d say a day.”
“That’s something to look forward to.” I plopped her on a makeshift table at the foot of the bed so she could get a better view of us both. “Star, meet Michael. Michael, meet Star.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Michael,” Star chirped.
“I don’t think he’s being rude,” I murmured, “just trying to catch his breath.”
“Why’ve you gussied him up? This isn’t like you, Conor. Didn’t think you were on the psycho end of the spectrum.”
“I’m not a psycho.”
I wasn’t.
I was a fucking soldier in a war that people were waging against my family—the only people I gave a shit about.
“This setup gives me different vibes.”
“He hurt my family.”
“How?”
“You know what the ECD are?”
Star sniffed disdainfully. “Conor, what do you think?”
“I think you know what they are.”
“Affirmative. He’s with them?” She eyed Michael with more curiosity than before. “They’re harder to crack than jihadists, did you know that?”
“I didn’t. Had dealings with the ECD before?”
“A time or two. Like I said, hard nuts to crack.”
“That’s why I introduced him to my old friend electricity. Plus—” I held up a hand. “One second.”
Getting to my feet, I rounded the bed where I had a couple of those humane rat traps waiting for me.
I picked one up then placed it on the bed.
“Rats?” Star shuddered. “I hate rats.”
“They make good pets. I had one when I was a kid.”
She arched a brow. “Did your mom know you had one?”
I grinned. “No.”
“Typical boy. So gross. What are you going to do with them?”
“See how his head is secured?”
“Yep. Immobilized is the word you’re looking for.”
“I figure Michael won’t like feeling his eyes being eaten by a hungry rat. Before that happens, I’m hoping he’ll break. If not, he knows what’s coming to him.”
Michael started sobbing.
“That’s it, Michael. Season Mr. Rat’s dinner. I’m sure they’ll appreciate the extra salt.”
Star cackled. “You’re crazy, Con.”
I shot her a look. “I’m not crazy.”
“You are. Totally. I love it.” She rubbed her hands together. “If I didn’t have shit to do here, I’d totally come for a visit.”
Staring at her over the rat trap, I murmured, “I mean, you could visit anyway.”
She shrugged, but a smile danced on her lips. “One day.”
We shared a glance. Nodded.
“One day,” I agreed, praying she wouldn’t be someone else who let me down. Who betrayed me. Shoving those miserable thoughts aside, I placed the rat trap on the bed. “But I’m not crazy.”