26
Mercy
Anthea sighedand leaned back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose. She’d spent hours sorting through the folders Gideon had managed to transfer from whatever computer he’d found in the Storm’s local headquarters. Meanwhile, the rest of us had been pacing the abandoned pub my father had once owned. It’d seemed like a good a place as any to hold a meeting.
We were all too restless to stay cramped in the van. Of course, the stale boozy smell that permeated the air didn’t exactly make for a comforting atmosphere either.
Nowhere in Paradise Bend would be comforting right now.
“What did you find?” Wylder demanded, coming over.
“Plenty of information about their past operations,” Anthea said. “Businesses they’ve set up deals with in the Bend, ideal locations for distributing the drugs, that kind of thing. Even some observations about the Red Shark’s activities, which seems to be a moot point now. But I’m not seeing anything that exposes any weaknesses that’ll help us get Gideon out of there.”
“Keep digging,” Kaige insisted.
Anthea shook her head. “I’ve gone through everything. They haven’t kept any information that was all that vital in general on here—nothing about definite future plans, nothing about their activities outside of Paradise Bend.”
The ache that’d been sitting in my stomach since the moment we’d driven away without Gideon intensified. “And we still have no idea who the Storm is or where his people came from?”
“Not a hint about that either.”
“I guess it’s not surprising they wouldn’t have that stuff on a computer,” Rowan said, though he looked just as worried as the rest of us. “Gideon’s put us several steps above a typical gang in terms of tech, and even Ezra doesn’t like to leave a digital paper trail whenever he can help it.”
“Fucking damn it!” Wylder punched the bar counter and then shook his fist with a hiss.
“Hey, beating up on the furniture is my job,” Kaige said, but he couldn’t work any real humor into the joke.
“We’re running out of time.” I reached past Anthea to bring up the recording of the message Xavier had sent through Gideon’s mic about an hour after his capture. The psycho’s gruff voice carried through the speakers. “You have twenty-four hours to come retrieve your boy, or you’ll be picking his corpse off the street.” He followed the warning up with a chuckle that sent a shiver down my spine.
That’d been twelve hours ago. We’d gone right through the night without landing on a way to get Gideon back, and now hazy dawn light was starting to creep through the dirty front window. My hand clenched, but I knew punching the laptop would be the opposite of helpful.
“You know this is a trap, right?” Anthea said gently. “They’re obviously going to be waiting for you to show up.”
“What’s the alternative?” Wylder asked, his voice strained. “We can’t just leave him there for them to kill!”
“I’m just saying that we have to come up with a solid plan. Rushing right in there will only let them kill all of you.”
“Well, we can’t just sit here and do nothing. He’s in there with that fucking monster.” Wylder shuddered. “God knows what state we’ll find him in.”
The comment echoed my own thoughts, but I couldn’t let hopelessness fill my head. “Gideon is stronger than we think.”
“We only need one thing that would give us an advantage,” Rowan said. He frowned at the computer. We’d been counting on finding that advantage in the files it held.
My gaze fell on the phones we’d grabbed off the fallen Storm men. I motioned to them. “Maybe there’s something else on those. They’d need to be using their phones for more immediate communication—they might not have been as careful about what they said in texts.” That was the whole reason Gideon had wanted us to take the phones while we had the chance.
Unfortunately, he’d also been the one who could have hacked past their lock codes. Anthea grimaced and rubbed her forehead. “I know my way around a computer for the basics and a little more, but I can’t break into a locked phone.”
We glanced around at each other, but we all knew the rest of us wouldn’t stand a chance. We’d already confirmed that all five of them were locked. Shit.
“The Nobles have other contacts,” Anthea pointed out. “I’m sure there’s someone on the payroll who could—”
“No,” Wylder cut in firmly. “I told you what happened after the deal at the airstrip went sour. Dad knows I’ve sided with Mercy over him. I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t put a bullet in my head the next time he sees me. He’s never going to offer up any of the Noble resources. So unless you know a specific person we can go to who’ll support us over him…”
She sighed. “No. Most of my contacts are back in New York. I might be able to get ahold of one long distance, but they’re not generally the type to want to discuss illegal methods in ways that can be recorded.” Anthea paused, tapping her lips. “But we could still get what we need from your father. All you have to do is put on a show of having turned against Mercy after all—”
“No,” Wylder said, even more vehemently than before.
“It wouldn’t have to be as extreme as faking her death. We could always—”