34. Tulsa

34

"His name is Anton Hebert." For once, Romeo didn't open the conversation with an innuendo or a comment about my ass. "He's been working here for nearly five years."

Behind him, Monroe was sitting in a visitor chair, looking faintly nauseated but alive, and also in better shape than I usually ended up after spending time with the biggest dick in Nevada.

"Are you sure about that? The name isn't on the list of control centre staff."

"Ninety percent sure. The pieces fit."

Monroe spoke up. "He was never permanently assigned to the control centre. Just a few days here and there. We needed to keep him out of Ms. Maara's way this month."

"Why? She had an issue with him?"

"Not personally. There were a couple of gifts sent here for Ms. Maara. One of them showed up in her dressing room, and we believe somebody entered the backstage area through an internal staff door."

Romeo huffed. "Hebert put the bag in the dressing room. It's obvious now."

"He was meant to be watching the door at the time," Monroe explained. "When we looked into the matter, another member of staff said that when she walked past, he wasn't there. So we reassigned him. Ms. Maara's bodyguard was satisfied with that."

"Shoulda fired him," Romeo muttered, and for once, I couldn't disagree with his high-handedness.

"Luna's bodyguard probably figured that you vetted your staff."

"We did. He never put a foot wrong until now. Anton came over from the Luxor, and they gave him a good reference."

"How long was he there?"

"Eighteen months," Monroe said. "And before that, he was in the Army."

The Army? Great. That made a rescue more difficult and also meant he had survival skills.

"Why did he switch jobs?"

"From the Luxor? He mentioned a breakup. I think his ex worked there."

"Do you have a name?"

"No, he never said much about her. Kept himself to himself, you know? Then his mom died last year, and he got even quieter."

Romeo checked his phone, scowled at the screen, and then turned his glare on me. "Before you criticise my business practices again, yes, we gave him time off to go to the funeral."

"Personal leave? Or did you just grant a request to use his PTO days?"

"He asked for a week. If it had been a day, then?—"

"I get it—money comes first. Were there any issues with him acting inappropriate around women?"

Monroe took over again. "No, nothing. Anton seemed like a good guy. Quiet but not unfriendly, always willing to take extra shifts at short notice. When I asked him why he left his post, he said he went to the bathroom and didn't call for cover because we were short-staffed, and I figured he'd just suffered a lapse in judgment. Everybody makes mistakes."

"Right." I raised an eyebrow. "Nacho?"

Monroe's cheeks coloured. "After the gift incident, we put Anton in the control room. He must have watched me type in my password."

"We need everything you have on Hebert, starting with an address."

Luckily, Romeo wasn't a man who got bent out of shape about data protection. He passed me a flash drive.

"We put the files on here."

"What's the password?"

He pressed his lips together. For fuck's sake.

"When this is over, you're going to hire whatever cyber security specialist Echo recommends, and you're going to follow their instructions to the letter."

He bristled, but then his shoulders dropped. "Fine. Fine, I'll do that. Hebert also has a locker, but we don't have the key for the padlock. Someone is bringing a pair of bolt cutters."

"Don't touch the contents. I'll do that."

"Derek can take you to the locker room. I'll round up the guys to pay Anton a visit."

"You absolutely will not."

Priest barked out a laugh, and I imagined he was getting an earful from Emmy as well.

We were the ones who would be paying Hebert a visit.

Yes, the cops were finally taking the situation seriously, but they'd probably arrest Nola Jiminez rather than seeing that she was a victim too. Plus if Kobie still had a pulse, cops swarming all over her apartment would put him in even more danger.

Few people could breach Hebert's apartment as proficiently as we could. The Choir trained for this. Blackwood trained for this. The FBI's Hostage Rescue Team trained for it too, but they were hours away in Quantico. That left local SWAT teams, and they were a mixed bunch. Maybe they'd pull off a decent raid. Or maybe they'd bust into the wrong apartment, shoot the family dog, and break a father's arm in front of two traumatised children the way they had last month.

"Buddy, let me give you a friendly piece of advice," Priest said. "If you take one step toward that door, half a dozen beautiful women are gonna turn you into their latest macramé project."

Romeo just smirked. "That sounds like something I'd enjoy."

"You won't be so enthusiastic when they cut off the circulation to your balls."

I offered a saccharine smile. "I'd love to introduce you to my slippery hitch."

"You'd be better off helping your father with the media circus," Priest told him. "Word on the street says Amethyst Puckett's jet is wheels-up out of LAX, so she'll be downstairs raising hell within the hour."

"Who the fuck are you, anyway?"

"Tulsa's spiritual advisor."