“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 was he doing here? It certainly wasn’t looking for a place to eat. His stomach was in too many knots, and the dead silence of his apartment bugged the shit out of him. As it turned out, busy downtown Lafayette wasn’t distracting him, either. He’d been here twenty minutes, and the music spilling from open bars, along with the nondescript chatter and honking horns from hell-raisers ready to party, all grated on his last damn nerve.
He wasn’t comfortable anywhere—not in bed, trying to catch some z’s. Not riding around the city. Definitely not in the office.
Eleven fucking days since the bosses had tasked him with saving his best friend’s ass, and he’d discerned next to nothing. Worse, he couldn’t consult the two people whose advice he most wanted. He refused to put the colonel in an awkward position by bitching about his pain-in-the-ass sons, and Trees would be devastated to know the people he worked for had accused him of something so against his grain. Unfortunately, Hunter, Logan, and Joaquin had made their priorities abundantly clear to Zy by sending every operator on assignment—except him.
After protecting a clothing designer in Dallas a few weeks back, golden boy Cutter was now in Hollywood bodyguarding a starlet, identity undisclosed. Not that Zy cared. Better someone else in LaLa Land than him. Josiah had been assigned solid back-to-back posts, providing cover for visiting global bureaucrats attending swanky fundraisers up and down the East Coast. Trees had been tasked with various clients’ cybersecurity issues—all from the comfort of his desk, with Joaquin hovering. Even One-Mile, who had recently been near death’s door, had watched over a senator’s son during his Louisiana visit. Of course Walker had also been assigned to work seniors’ bingo night. Nothing else told Zy more clearly how pissed the bosses were that the sniper had abandoned his post with Valeria Montilla after moving her to a new safe house so he could pursue her estranged husband.
And if Zy didn’t want to be in the bosses’ doghouse too, he needed to figure out how to prove Trees innocent. It sucked, but his options were limited.
There would be no breaking into Trees’s computer or onto his property without his pal knowing. Cybersecurity was his thing…but he was also paranoid as fuck about his house. No one got on or off his property without Trees knowing. Ever. Hell, he’d practically given the UPS driver an FBI-level interrogation before he’d been allowed to deliver packages.
Zy thought again about admitting this whole mess to Trees and enlisting his help, but the chances of his pal not being butt-hurt and not going all scorched earth were nil. Once he opened that can, there would be all kinds of bad. Zy figured he’d get fired, too, for not keeping his mouth shut.