“He wants to make sure it’s destroyed,” came Thomas’s curt reply.

“I don’t believe you!” she cried out. “You all want the same: power, control, supremacy. With the information on the flash drive you’ll have all of that and more. Anybody who possesses it will try to use the information for his own purposes—and depending on how strong this person already is . . .” She allowed her unfinished sentence to linger in the air, before continuing. “So don’t tell me Samson wanted to destroy it. If he did, he wouldn’t have gone behind my back searching for it!”

Thomas’s calm demeanor didn’t change. “You do him wrong. Samson has no need for power. He’s content. Finally content.”

Rose caught an odd tone in his voice, almost as if he seemed somewhat envious of his boss. He took a step closer before he continued.

“He doesn’t lust for power. He felt that the flash drive would be better protected if it was in Scanguards’ hands. You’re not trained for this. And it’s exactly what you hired us for.”

“What I hired you for? I hired you to protect my grandson, not to snoop around in my personal affairs. I’ve kept the flash drive from Keegan’s hands so far, and I’ll continue to do so. It’s safe. He’ll never find out where it is. And it will stay there until Keegan is dead. Only then will I destroy it.”

Thomas stared at her, then stumbled back two paces. “And what if we don’t get him? Are you prepared to run for eternity?”

Rose thrust up her chin. “If I destroy the data now, I might as well paint a target symbol over my heart and walk outside for him to stake me. The flash drive is the only protection I have against Keegan. He won’t kill me as long as he knows I’m the only one who knows where it’s hidden.”

She felt Quinn reach for her hand and squeeze it.

“She’s right, Thomas, and you know it. Once Keegan knows the data is destroyed, what’s stopping him from going on a killing rampage? At least now, he’s still trying to negotiate. It’s giving us the best chance we’ll ever have to set a trap for him. He has to come to us because he wants something from us. Once that something is gone, we have no way of reeling him in.”

A skeptical look crossed over Thomas’s face. Next to him, Eddie shifted from one foot to the other, rubbing the back of his neck at the same time.

“He has a point,” Eddie said. “It’s better if nobody else knows where the drive is. It’s the only thing that will keep her safe.”

“What about Blake?” Thomas challenged, looking back at her. “He’s still as vulnerable as the day you stole the data.”

“I trust Scanguards to keep him safe.” She smiled at Quinn, whose eyes radiated with warmth.

He mouthed a silent thank you to her.

“Well, at least you’ve picked the right gang to protect him,” Thomas answered drily.

Eddie grinned and slapped his mentor on the shoulder. “Because we’re the best at this.”

“What about Samson?” Thomas threw in.

“I’ll talk to him about this,” Quinn answered.

29

Blake blinked as a faint ray of sunshine tickled his nose through the half-closed curtains. He’d been too tired the night before to pull them shut completely and had fallen into bed after gorging himself on the delicious stew Nina had cooked.

He squinted at the radio alarm on the nightstand. It was already midday. Sitting up, he listened for any sounds in the house, but it was quiet. He padded to the window in his pajama bottoms and pulled up the sash to let fresh air into the room. Instantly, the room was even brighter than before.

He pushed the curtains back and looked down into the back yard, the fire escape right outside his window partially blocking his view. As he pulled his head back in, he bumped against the window.

“Ouch!” he complained, rubbing the back of his head.

His eyes caught at the glass, and he suddenly noticed that it seemed much darker than a conventional windowpane. He leaned in to inspect it and noticed what appeared to be a thin plastic film covering the glass. It had a light brown color. Odd! Why would somebody want to darken the room when San Francisco wasn’t exactly graced with all-year-round sunny weather. There was no chance of overheating in this foggy city.

He shrugged and held his overly full stomach. The rich food was giving him heartburn. Maybe he should have warned Nina that he was lactose intolerant so she would go easy on the cream she’d poured into the stew. But he would have rather bitten his lip than do so. He didn’t want to be looked at as a weakling by his trainers. For all he knew, they would drop him from the program like a hot potato.