Fury of the Demon (Kara Gillian 6)

“Yep. Sinks right into it,” he said. “I have to remind him to eat. He set up a number for Sonny and me to text if we need his attention. Anything else makes him lose his train of thought.”

“I know he’s valuable to Farouche and does computer stuff, but what exactly does he do?”

Bryce pursed his lips, tipped his head back in consideration. “He’s a computer security expert and can do all sorts of white, grey, and black hat work,” he explained. “He can get into just about anything—system, network, database, whatever’s out there—but don’t ask me to tell you exactly what he does or how he does it. It’s beyond me.” A corner of his mouth lifted in a fond smile. “I say ‘work,’ but for him it isn’t. When Paul’s in deep, he’s having a blast exploring and uncovering information.”

I straightened. “What kind of information?”

“Pretty much anything you could possibly think of. He knows how to delve, and he’s fearless when it comes to infrastructure.”

Somehow I managed to hold back the delighted chortle. “I have a project for him, if he’s up for it.”

“The bigger the challenge, the more he likes it.”

Paul chose that moment to enter the kitchen, tablet tucked under one arm, empty plate in the other hand, and eyes red despite his smile. “Good lunch. Thanks. What’s up?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Bryce said, frowning. “What’s bothering you?”

Paul scrubbed his free hand over his face and looked a little embarrassed. “I, uh, was listening in on a conversation.”

Bryce folded his arms across his chest, narrowed his eyes. “Whose conversation upset you?”

“Sonny,” Paul confessed. “I probably shouldn’t have tapped in, but I was worried about him and wanted to make sure he was okay.”

Sonny. One of the gunmen at the encounter with Farouche.

“Well, was he?” Bryce asked.

“He sounded a little stressed, but otherwise all right,” Paul replied. “I was worried something bad might happen to him since he was my handler too.”

There was no mistaking the relief on Bryce’s face. “You did good, kid.”

“Yeah? Thanks.” He smiled. “Hearing him made me miss him more, that’s all.”

Bryce patted his shoulder. “I totally get it. Who was he talking to?”

“His sister. About how he’d be there for Christmas this year.” Paul winced. “She didn’t believe him, yelled at him, and hung up.”

Surprise and disbelief flashed over Bryce’s face. “Sonny called his sister?”

I frowned at the exchange. “Something wrong with that?”

“Not wrong exactly,” Bryce said. “But it means he’s on edge with Paul and me gone.” Bryce rubbed the back of his neck, grimaced. “He hasn’t talked to his family in over a decade. I mean, you don’t do that around Mr. Farouche.”

“That’s right,” Paul said with a serious nod. “B.M. doesn’t play around.”

“B.M.?” I asked, puzzled, then remembered that Paul’s nickname for James Macklin Farouche was Big Mack. I let out a peal of laughter. “B.M. That’s classic.”

Paul grinned. “If the acronym fits . . .”

Bryce cocked an eyebrow at the young man. “Wasn’t so hilarious when you accidentally called him that to his face. Anyway, Ms. Gillian wants to know—”

“Please call me Kara,” I interrupted.

Bryce gave me a nod. “Kara wants to know if there’s anything you need.”

“No. She doesn’t,” he said with a wry smile. “I can need a whole lot of very expensive things.”

“Okay,” I said, smiling, “is there anything without which you can’t do your work?”