“Likewise, Ms. Eccelston,” he murmured before following Rowe into his office.
Noah closed the door behind him and turned back to watch Rowe prowling behind his desk. It was hard to imagine Rowe spending any kind of time behind a desk. The man was better with his feet on the ground and a gun in his hand. “How long has Gidget worked for you?”
Rowe’s head snapped up and he stared at Noah with a look of confusion digging two lines between his eyebrows before his expression cleared, as if he needed a second to translate his words. “Oh, Gidget. God, I’d be lost without that woman. She’s been with me for years. Hired her within six months of setting the company up. Knows more about computers and hacking into different systems than anyone I’ve ever met. She’s been torn up about this whole fucking mess since the club fire. She designed a lot of the systems. Takes pride in being able to protect people.” Rowe flopped down in his chair and roughly rubbed both of his hands over his face. “Don’t think it, Keegan. She takes this shit personally. Thinks she’s the smartest hacker on the planet. The fact that someone is outsmarting her is tearing her apart.”
Noah bit back a sigh. Maybe he was just being paranoid.
Strolling across the office, Noah slumped into one of the chairs in front of Rowe’s desk and propped his feet up on a bare spot. He’d let the Gidget thing go for now. They had other, more uncomfortable things to discuss.
“So…coincidence is off the table,” Noah slowly drawled, earning a glare from Rowe.
“Fucker.”
“You know you were still clinging to that flimsy pathetic straw.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Lucas and Snow were on the guest list at the Lyntons’ and they were both at the night club. They’re a target. It’s not a coincidence.”
“Were you on the guest list?”
Rowe rolled his eyes. “I might run with those deviants, but I don’t make that kind of money. No, I wasn’t invited to the party.”
“Let’s assume Jagger has it out for you, Lucas, and Snow. Does he want Ian dead?”
Rowe growled but didn’t immediately answer. “I…I don’t know,” he admitted softly. “My brain says no, but I can’t overlook the fact that Ian was at the club. He could have been killed that night if we hadn’t acted fast enough. He was in the car…with Mel.” He stopped and swallowed hard. “He could have died that day. Almost did.” With a shrug, he sat up straight and turned to face Noah across the desk. “Maybe Jagger is scared and wants to kill him. Tie up some loose ends. Maybe that’s what we’ve become for him. A fucking loose end.”
Noah straightened as well, dropping his feet to the floor with a heavy thump. His stomach twisted at Rowe’s sickening words but he tamped down the rush of panic that tried to quicken his heart. Rowe and his friends were not loose ends. But they had to stay logical and calm. They had to stay ahead of Jagger and this fuckstick he’d hired.
“The CPD and FBI have been coming down hard on him recently,” he murmured, talking as much to Rowe as to himself.
“Yeah, but that’s been going on for a while now. At least a few years. Why come after us now? If any of us were going to sing, we would have done it a long time ago. We’ve all got lives. Too much to lose if we let ourselves get tied to Jagger now.” Rowe shoved back to his feet and started to pace away from his desk, but he didn’t get more than a couple steps before he stopped again. “Besides, this feels different,” he ventured, his voice barely over a whisper.
Noah leaned forward just enough so he could hear Rowe. “What do you mean?”
Rowe cocked his head as if he were a dog straining to hear something distant. “Two witnesses came up dead before they could testify. Double-tap to the back of the head. Professional.” He made a gun sign with his right hand and lifted it to the back of his own head. It was a sickening image Noah prayed he’d never see in real life.
A shiver ran through Noah, bringing him to his feet as well. “And you’re thinking if Jagger was so desperate to have you dead, why not call the same hitman?”
Rowe nodded. “But this shit—calling in Gratton to destroy Snow’s life, stalk Ian, and kill my wife. The arsonist attacking Lucas’s place, nearly killing all of us. Hell, if the fucker had been a little more careful, he might have killed Andrei last night and that would have fucking destroyed Lucas. For almost a year now, we’ve been looking over our shoulders and waiting for the other shoe to drop. This…this…”
“Feels personal,” Noah finished.