Page 119 of What Remains

“Yeah, okay, thanks,” Dad replies, voice still thick with emotion. “What about the list of names from the 2011 op Carter texted Zoey before all hell broke loose?”

“Nothing resonated with her. And since I used to freelance for MI6 and Interpol back in the day, I had a look. No one is familiar to me, either.”

Dad nods, not that Julian can see him. “I need to fill in the others. Excuse me.”

I reach out for his wrist and squeeze my plea into him. “Don’t,” I beg, knowing he’s planning to talk to Easton about my backup plan.

He quietly shakes his head like he’s upset with me. Not disappointed, just devastated I would do exactly what he would in my position—sacrifice myself for the team. He pulls his hand away, and my chest tightens as I watch him leave.

“Maybe you all should come back here?” I focus back on the call. “I don’t want them accidentally spotting any of you in London. Especially you.”

“I’m being careful, you know that. I’ve covered our tracks here. I blacked out the footage of us visiting Hyde Park to check where they used your rig, assuming they were watching for us to take the bait.”

“And they don’t have our antidote to undo the nuked footage.” Thank God for that. “Still, I would rather you all come back here so we’re not split up.”

“Zoey’s being a stubborn pain in the ass. No chance she’ll come with us if we go, and we don’t want to leave her alone. I’m still picking up on some strong she-hates-me vibes.”

“She’s just like that.” I smile, forgetting we’re not on FaceTime.

“We off speaker?” he asks a beat later.

I spin my chair to face the screen. “We are.”

He softens his tone and asks, “How are you doing?”

“Well, I’m relieved no planes actually crashed, but I’m terrified of what these people are planning to blame me for next.”

“I’m so damn sorry,” he rasps. “I can’t imagine someone getting their hands on my box.”

“You’d never let that happen.” And that’s the truth. “If only I’d actually stopped working for five minutes and left my damn rig at The Sapphire before going to Dubai, maybe we wouldn’t be in this situation,” I admit to him what I just shared with Dad in the hall. “Those bastards wouldn’t have your program you entrusted me with, either.”

“Not your fault. These people are persistent fuckers. They’d have found another way to get what they wanted. Something tells me their backup plan would’ve involved more people getting hurt. And I know you. You wouldn’t be able to deal with that happening.”

Speaking of backup plans. Do I tell him about mine? Maybe keep that to myself for now.

“I should’ve been there for you, though,” he says in a low voice, and the background is muffled. He’s probably stepped away from his family and Zoey to talk to me privately.

“How could you have⁠—”

“Not in Dubai. I mean before. We haven’t worked together since the accident in August. I was trying to give you space to recover.”

What is he talking about? “You sent flowers. Called and texted. You checked on me. We even danced at your sister’s wedding reception just last month.” I add with a laugh, “Loved your alias, too.” Kinda hard to attend an event when you’re “dead,” so he came in partial disguise with a fake name.

I’ll never forget that dance we shared, either. Or the way Easton showed up while Julian was spinning me, then bolted at the sight.

“Still, I should have been more present,” he continues, voice grave, “and kept a better eye on you like I used to before you knew who I was. I might have seen this coming.”

“You mean when you used to spy on my team to give us a heads-up about who we should or shouldn’t trust?”

“I was only spying on you,” he murmurs, his voice dark.

Oh, shit.

Do you have a thing for me?

The line goes quiet before he rushes out, “On that note, I should go. Be in touch with that list soon.” He ends the call before I can wrap my head around any of that weirdness I’m not prepared to deal with.

“You okay?” Mya asks, and I toss my mobile on the desk and face the room.