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Flash Burned (Burned 2)

Page 101

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I understood what Amano was saying. But the clicking in my mind happened again. “That you know of. He’s a hacker, Amano. He hacked the Web site, taking it offline at the most critical point of hiring for the Lux. He deactivated my badge so that I couldn’t get out of the stairwell, where he’d planted a diamondback on the landing below me. He was responsible for the damaged security wires. Not beavers. Wayne.”

Amano’s eyes darkened. Took him mere seconds to jump onboard with me. “He could have figured out how to hack your cell phone. Mine as well.”

“I did try to call you when we were in trouble.”

“No calls came through.”

“So, he … what? Jammed or blocked me somehow?”

Amano smacked his hand on the counter. “Damn it, he probably hacked Kyle’s phone, too.”

“Mr. Conaway thought of that. He had Kyle pitch it into the canyon, along with mine.”

“That wily bastard,” Amano said of Wayne. “He must still be working for Vale.”

“And planted that bomb at the Lux.” My blood chilled.

Amano got to his feet. “We need proof.”

I groaned. “That’s impossible. First of all, the guy’s a wraith, like Dane. He’s all over the place, but no one sees him. There’s no evidence of him being here, there, or anywhere. And it’s like he just … knows things.”

“Chances are good he discovered you were meeting Dane at the house and it was him in the Camaro that chased you and Kyle.”

“And what? Vale was in the helicopter?”

“He certainly has the resources, now doesn’t he?”

“He, who?” Kyle asked as he came into the kitchen, a towel wrapped around his neck, perspiration dotting his skin from what had apparently been a rigorous workout. His muscles bulged and he breathed heavily.

“Vale,” I said. “We’re thinking he was in the helicopter and it was Wayne Horton in the Camaro.”

Kyle scowled. “That lowlife asshole? Someone should shoot him and put us all out of our misery.”

“Kyle.” Appealing as the idea was, I didn’t condone violence.

“Just sayin’.” He crossed to the fridge and yanked on the handle. While he selected which variety of Gatorade he wanted, he added, “Look at what he did to you, Ari.”

“And to the Lux,” I said in agreement.

He pulled out a bottle of orange and downed half of it before asking, “So is someone going after these two thugs?”

“Not you,” Amano asserted.

I drummed my fingers on the counter, then ventured, “What about me?”

Both sets of eyes burned into my skull. Seemed I was back to having flashes of crazy.

Amano said, “That’s not even worth answering.”

“Why not?” I insisted. “I mean, come on. I’m harmless. If I tried to get a confession from Wayne, he’d never see it coming. My life was destroyed, remember? I can play the lost little lamb to his big, bad wolf.”

“Absolutely. Fucking. Not.” This from Kyle as he stared incredulously at me. “He’s willing to kill you, Ari. Did you not learn anything on those switchbacks? If we had gone over the edge, it would have been sayonara and good riddance on his part, and he would have simply washed his hands of you.”

“It’s not an issue, Kyle,” Amano told him in a tone that held crystal-clear finality. “Dane would never stand for it.” His gaze shifted to me. “Neither would I.”

Planting my hands on my hips, I ignored the case closed voice of reason and reminded them both, “Dane is working with the FBI. Wouldn’t they help us? They’d want to bust Wayne—they’d want his confession. We need to find him and get it!”

“Simmer down there, Lara Crof



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