Chapter 41

Chapter 41

Julian

It's Friday, meaning I get three full days with Poppy. Waking up, her face is the first thing on my mind. After the military, I didn't think I'd find something to look forward to, but here I am.

It's the little things about her, like the pink blush on her cheeks, matching her lips, and those freckles that make her uniquely mine. When she's embarrassed, her long brown lashes cover her hazel eyes, and her laugh – it's genuine, not forced. She's the woman I'm excited to live my future with.

I've changed, and I hardly recognize myself. I plan surprises, something I never did before. With Kent's help, who's surprisingly good at this romantic stuff, I've got something big planned. I want to take Poppy away from the drama and the threats. Planning this wasn't easy. Uncle Dan fought me on it. We're heading to Lake Tahoe on my family's private jet. It's not ski season, but the peace and views there are what we both need. Poppy's been through a lot – lost her brother and parents. And with the threats and my career shift, we both need a safe space to just breathe. A place to hope and dream. And that's what I want for us at Lake Tahoe – a moment to stop and really see each other.

Wrapping up a call with the General, I report on our advanced drone project, which is ahead of schedule with new stealth tech and AI capabilities. The General talked for another ten minutes, and we set a meeting in Nevada in two months. Thanks to Poppy organizing my work life, I feel like I've got my bearings. I'm up to date on all the projects and problems, and Sterling Defense feels like it's a well-oiled machine again.

My phone rings again. "Fuck," I mutter, grabbing it. "Hello?"

My eyes burn a hole into my door; just beyond it is Poppy. I can't wait to tell her about the surprise trip I have planned. The plane is scheduled to leave late tonight, so as soon as she is done with work, I'll take her to pack, and then we're off.

"Howdy, soldier," a familiar voice says. It's Harper, Poppy's friend.

My forehead wrinkles in confusion. "Harper?" I recognize that voice instantly. "You called my phone. Let me transfer you to Poppy."

"Wait. Hold up, Cowboy. I meant to call you," Harper interjects, stopping me in my tracks.

I instantly feel uncomfortable; the little I know about Harper is already setting off alarm bells. I lean back in my chair, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "What do you need?"

"Did Poppy wear the shirt I got her to work yet?" Harper asks. She might be speaking through the phone, but it sounds like she's the damn devil on my shoulder taunting me.

I shake my head, amusement mixing with exasperation. "Harper, that shirt is an invitation for an HR seminar."

She scoffs; I swear I can hear her eyes roll. "You're the CEO; rewrite the HR textbook, make 'dating your boss' shirts a workplace fashion statement. It can start a conversation. Isn't that the goal of offices to talk and gossip?"

"You're forgetting work, too," I snort, unable to suppress a smirk. "You giving ideas for a textbook is terrifying."

"I never did like textbooks. They were so goddamn heavy; I mean, why aren't kids suing for backaches and early-onset osteoporosis. Not to mention that as soon as the textbook goes to print, it's outdated. I'm digital all the way, and in the digital world, rules are meant to be broken."

Spoken like a hacker.

"Is that the real reason you called?" I ask, folding my arms and leaning in, ready for her ramble.

"Nope," she replies, popping the 'p.'

"Alright, Harper, spit it out. What's the real reason?"

"It's more about whatyou need, but I'll need a favor in exchange for the information I'm about to share," she says cryptically.

"What info?" I question as I readjust the phone and sit back down. "Did Poppy tell you?" I press.

I had a feeling Poppy would divulge the threats and photos sent. Those two share everything. I'm not pissed, but Poppy will have to keep a tighter lip when it comes to some of the details at work. Our information is sensitive, to say the least.

"No," Harper replies quickly.

"But you know what I'm referring to?" I reply. If Uncle Dan finds out more people are aware of what's happening, he'll have a fit. He was furious when I told Poppy only some of the details.

"Poppy is my sister, and since you two are getting closer, I took the liberty of doing a background check on you," Harper explains casually.

"Whose permission did you have for that?" I challenge, a bit irked.

She laughs, a sound that's both threatening and playful. Harper might portray the role of a dumb blonde, but she's a wolf in sheep's clothing. No one who works for the NSA and hacked into the Pentagon as a teenager is an angel. She's a devil in disguise, and my brother better be careful.

"If you hurt Poppy, I know people who can thoroughly mess you up, not just physically but mentally and emotionally too. Consider this a friendly warning," Harper purrs like a Girl Scout selling me Thin Mint cookies.

"Why are you calling me Harper?" I ask, my tone serious.

"Because I didn't like what I found when I started digging, Julian." It's the way she pronounces my name that alerts me to her pissed-off nature. "Someone shot you," she states matter-of-factly.

My injured shoulder tenses instinctively. "I was a soldier. It happens."

"You were targeted because of your family name. They found you on a black site and shot you as a warning," she deadpans. "They don't give a shit about who you are or where you are. They are coming for you, Julian, which puts my best friend in their sights. Do you understand why and how your problem has become mine?"

My heart stills. How the hell does she know that? The details are confidential, locked away in CIA servers. Harper works for the NSA, but her knowledge suggests she's been doing some unauthorized digging.

"You realize if I reported you to my uncle, you'd lose your job," I point out.

She laughs again, her amusement clear, "I'd lose a lot more than that. That's what makes it so much fun. By the way, your uncle has a guy named Tyler Simmons working on your case. Tyler Simmons!" I can almost hear her eyes rolling. "The guy tells people he's a serious gamer, and he plays Fortnite. Fortnite." She pauses for dramatic effect. "He has no idea what a real hardcore RPG is. He's a joke, a poser. It's insulting that he holds that position in the CIA."

"I don't know what the hell any of that means." I bite as I mentally etch Tyler Simmons's name into my mind so I can tell my uncle.

"I'm talking about gaming, you know, video games. You game, don't you?"

I scratched my jaw, "I've been busy, Harper. We didn't carry gaming consoles well on missions."

"Ugh." She snorts, "You lose points in my book, Cowboy."

"I only care about Poppy's book."

"Good. I like that. Anyway, back to Tyler." She begins.

Thank god. What is the point of this call except to tell me she illegally hacked into the CIA?

"I beat him in a hackathon when I was seventeen. He's a prick who thinks he can hack into anything. He knows jack shit,"

I feel a pounding behind my eyes, starting to build like a drum. "Harper. You have to get to the point, or a team will be outside your house to collect you as we speak. Poppy's friend or not." I warn, my patience is wearing thin.

"Oh, bossy. I like it." She chuckles. "Fine. I've been monitoring the dark web, part of my job. There's chatter about The Ghost Legion, a group of assassins paid in cryptocurrency. A few months ago, their top guy, Silent Dagger, missed his mark. It's such a stupid name because he doesn't kill with knives, but then again, men are the lesser sex, so I don't expect them to pick names that make sense. If I were an assassin, I'd have a much cooler name."

I fear she's about to go off into a new tangent, but she refrains.

"He claimed it was intentional, but it caused a stir. The Ghost Legion is all about clean kills, not drawing attention. Tell me, Julian, isn't your uncle searching for a top-notch sniper who missed his mark on purpose?"

Holy shit!

"You foundall this before my uncle did?" I lean forward, captivated and alarmed. Poppy suggested I ask Harper for help, but I trusted my uncle, the head of the CIA, to handle it. Clearly, I underestimated the intellect of a female trying to protect another female.

"I found a lot more," she says confidently. "I've emailed you the details. The link in the email leads to a secure server. If I lose my job over this, I'll join that chat group and make sure they don't miss your heart next time, Julian." Her words are a stony warning.

"You're not going to lose your job, Harper," I reassure her, though, in truth, my uncle might just coerce her into working for him, given her skills.

"The sniper is an ex-pat who owes a lot to a Russian Bratva Pakhan. That's a mob boss, in case you're not up to date on your romance novels," Harper informs me with a hint of sarcasm.

"My what?" I need a translator for her level of female insanity.

"Bratva, Russian mafia romance. When was the last time you read, Julian? It's the latest in dark romance books," she explains, almost mockingly. "Poppy loves romance books. I've been trying to get her into dark romance, but so far, she's been fairly vanilla. Fairy tale endings; the hero always wins. No whips and chains. Maybe you can add some spice to her bookshelf."

"I'll clue Kent on what you prefer." I shake my head, slightly amused yet focused. "Tell me what else you know, Harper."

Her voice sounds like an eye roll. "Read a book, Julian. Poppy loves romance novels. Trust me, they're filled with stuff women love. You might learn a thing or two," she suggests, half-teasing, half-serious.

"Okay, I'll read a book," I growl. "Now tell me what else you found out."

"The Russian the sniper is indebted to is trying to climb the ranks in the criminal world. The easiest way for him to do that is by handing them a shiny new toy — Sterling's defensive toy, as in the one he wants you to send him to end the threats," she says, her tone turning grave.

For the next ten minutes, Harper delves into the details about the sniper and the Russian targeting my family. I listen, impressed and speechless by the depth of her information. I pull out my phone and text my uncle to come to my office immediately.

"You should also know that the Russian is even more arrogant than we thought," Harper adds.

"What do you mean?" I ask, intrigued.

"He's on US soil right now. To be more specific, he's in his forty-million-dollar New York apartment, living the high life. He has girlfriends on every continent, the typical playboy. Make sure you roast him good for me," she says with a mixture of disgust and expectation. "Cut off his balls. You can do that during interrogation, right?"

"I hope you never interrogate anyone."

"What?" She feigns shock. "It's not as bad as waterboarding. A snip here and there makes them crack in no time."

My thighs clench at just the thought. I hope Harper never progresses the career ladder. The woman is psycho.

"Your uncle was getting close. The Russian was careful, but the sniper got sloppy. I estimate Tyler would have solved it in another two weeks," she reveals.

"Two weeks can mean life or death," I acknowledge, the gravity of the situation hitting me.

"Exactly. Now, about that favor I need," Harper says, shifting gears.

"Name it," I respond.

"If your brother contacts me again, sends another cookie gram, or a thong bouquet, if he shows up at my dive bar, I'll make him regret it," she states coldly.

A cookie gram? Thong bouquet?

"Kent's been contacting you?" I'm surprised. I knew about the fake number she gave him that was to an erectile dysfunction medicine. That was priceless!

I didn't know he actually managed to get her real number.

"When the heck did he fly to you? He's been traveling on business for the past two weeks."

"Exactly. Traveling. Coming to and from and annoying me. He's clingy and pushing away all my potential lays. Tell him I bought a frame, Julian; I'm not scared to frame his balls in it. I mean it."

"You clearly have an issue with men's balls. I think you need to talk to a shrink, Harper." I kid. "I'll tell him. But Harper, you know if you give him a chance, he might surprise you."

She's silent for a breath, "I don't want surprises, Julian. I want a really amazing fuck with multiple orgasms, and then I don't ever want to see him again."

"Maybe it's just not the right time." I rebuttal. She sounds like me just a few months ago. "You know I'm going to tell Poppy you called."

"You better. If not, I'll buy another frame and hang your balls side by side."

"You're very violent. Are you sure you're not a member of that chat group?" I ask in a serious tone.

"If I join that chat group, I'd beat all the high rankings. Remember this, Julian: Hell hath no fury like a woman scored."