Page 40 of Jonas

“There’s some shady shit going on at Delcon. They’re neck deep in it. Way fucking deeper than Kent Rapport knew.”

Well, fuck.

Now I had a new issue on my hands—over my dead body would Derrika be going back to work with that ominous statement.

My phone alerted me to a text.

“Copy that. Will you be at the new location?”

“The whole team will be.”

Before I could press for more answers, Easton disconnected.

“Everything okay?” Derrika asked as soon as I lowered my phone to check the text from a number I didn’t have saved in my phone but one I’d memorized. Layla’s burner. If she was texting me from her disposable with a three-digit code, shit wasn’t FUBAR—it was nearing DEFCON one.

“No,” I answered honestly.

“No?” she asked, trying to peek at my phone.

It wouldn’t matter if she did. Only people who worked at Z Corps would know what the numbers meant.

“I’ll explain in the car.”

My answer seemed to suffice since she asked nothing further.

The silence ended as soon as I was behind the wheel.

“What’s happening?”

I filled her in on the limited information I had.

She looked less than pleased and sounded even less so when she griped, “Guess I’m not going back.”

Thank fuck she wasn’t going to push that angle.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t sound sorry,” she rightly pointed out.

I wasn’t. But I wasn’t a man prone to gloat so I said nothing as I pulled out of the hotel’s parking lot.

“Where are we going?”

“A place on the Eastern shore of Maryland. We call it the farm and use it to train.”

“The farm? Like the CIA training facility?”

“No. It was an actual working dairy farm before Zane bought the land.”

I hadn’t been around then, but I’d heard some of the guys from Red Team bitching about having to clean cow shit out of some of the barns before they could repurpose the space into a shoot house.

One of the barns had been damaged after the farm had been breached, and one of the guy’s woman had been kidnapped from the property. Since then, Zane had upgraded the security around the perimeter and had two underground bunkers put in.

If we were headed to the farm and the fortification and protection it offered—shit had gone bad.

Really fucking bad.

CHAPTER TWELVE