Page 71 of Fuse

“Now more than ever.”

“And you’re that certain I will?”

She quirks one corner of the scowl. “I am certain you would kill me if I did not ask.”

I feel myself returning the look, despite how I fight not to. Damn it, I shouldn’t be admitting that she’s right—but she is, and overwhelmingly so. She hasn’t just asked for a risk-taking favor. She’s given me an enormous gift. The sooner I admit it, the sooner I can deal with the thrill rushing my blood—on top of the guilt clutching my heart. This isn’t the sanest of plans—if Reece were close to conscious, he’d be hauling out the handcuffs from under the mattress for every reason but the fun ones—but holy shit, how many of his adventures broke the mold on crazy, electric blood or not? Nobody willingly wants to face street criminals, speeding cars, jet turbines, cartel armies, city-destroying hulks, and an induced coma, only to be rewarded for it all with their father’s betrayal and their brother’s death.

Who’s ever going to be the hero for him? And when?

My pulse speeds faster as my heart and soul scream with the answer.

It’s going to be me. And it’s going to be now.

The moment’s been handed down by fate. Though it’s had to get here because he’s lying in a coma, fighting for his sanity, I refuse to ignore the opportunity. The chance to take down the monstress at the center of so many of his nightmares. To send Faline to the hell she deserves and being there to tell her the trip is courtesy of Reece Richards’s woman. Who will always, always be there to put down scum like her on his behalf.

With that purpose straightening my stance, I meet Angie’s gaze with determination of my own. “Guess we don’t need to review how boldly I just signed on that dotted line,” I state. “But what happens if we get to that mansion and it really has been sold to someone else? Or she’s simply not there?”

She’s nodding practically before I’m done asking. “There is a way we can check. I am just not quite certain how possible…”

“Well, you’ve got to lay it on me first, lady.” I issue it while moving past her and leading the way back out into the kitchen. If we’re going to storm the evil witch’s castle, we’re going to need protein bars and water bottles. Last time I checked, neither of us was a real superhero. “You’d be amazed what a hotel front desk staff has to define as the realm of ‘possible.’”

Angelique braces a hand to the front of the refrigerator much like she just did to the atrium’s window. After an equally fortifying inhalation, she states, “The Consortium installed an elaborate backup security camera system in the mansion. It was completely undetectable to anyone in the house who did not know about it because all of the controls were virtual. The lenses were state-of-the-art, disguised as things like vent screws and switch-plate covers…”

“So they’re probably still in there and functioning?” I prompt.

“Oui.”

“You’d have to find a way to get back in and remotely access them.”

“If you mean completely hacking the system, since I have likely been removed from the users list by now, then oui.”

“Hmmm.” Though what I really mean is ugh. Because unless either of our names have been changed to Neo and we’ve been plugged into a giant intelligence-sharing device called the Matrix, I doubt either of us will suddenly become an expert security network hacker just because we stick our finger in the port and wish for it.

“Guess my timing on retrieving a team snack couldn’t have been better.”

Angie and I whip around together, nearly bonking heads, to face the source of that startling interjection—a face with a shit-eating grin we should know all too well by now but doesn’t fail to smack us both with visible surprise. Perhaps it’s because we both don’t want to admit what we already know: the truth that’s plastered plainly across Wade’s self-sure face.

Mr. Tavish has overheard every word we’ve said.

“So.” And he doesn’t hesitate to clarify it to us, even in the space of one audacious syllable. “Sounds like you ladies are in need of a tech wizard.”

I rush out a breath, returning his frank assessment. “We might be.” And I’m unwilling to commit to more than that yet…

“In order to track down the bitch who’s responsible for our squad’s misery.”

…because of exactly that.

“Wade.” I slide a hand atop the counter, guided by some strange sense that the CEO pose will lend me the same air, even in my rumpled sleep shorts and tank top. “Look, I totally value your loyalty—”

“And you clearly need my help.”

Angelique scoots forward, dipping her head to pierce a pointed stare at me. “Yes.” She squints as if I really have turned into a stuffy CEO. “We clearly need his help.”

I shoot back a narrowed glower at her. “And in return, he’s going to demand we take him along to the mansion.”

She gives me a fresh shrug. The girl is damn fond of doling them out today, along with their matching whiplash moments—gee, like this one. “And just how do we have an issue with that?”

“Says the person in the room who is thinking?” Wade quips.