part0115

By the time she looked through her phone after the call to Portland was completed, there were dozens of messages waiting for her. People needed her input for spending reports, they needed to know what she wanted to do with a certain item, and certain cash payments that had come in.

It wasn't that she didn't like the fact that she was needed in the day-to-day operations of the businesses. Molina was the kind of person who would feel at a loss if she didn't have something to work on. She would find something to do if she lacked a constant demand for her efforts.

The problem was that there weren't enough people she trusted in her line of work to take the work over. She really needed someone to take responsibility for the comparatively smaller details and manage them effectively in order to free her up to work on the bigger picture problems her company faced. It was a trust issue. Given the fact that much of the work that was done by her companies and investments tended to have shady elements, it was difficult to find people who could handle it who weren't shady themselves.

She wasn't really complaining—not much, anyway—but there were times when she really wished she could delegate the work to someone else and dive into the aspects of her work she genuinely enjoyed. The concept that when one worked at doing something one loved, one never worked a day in their life was one close to her heart.

But until that moment arrived, she would have to take the good with the bad and force herself to oversee most of the smaller details of the companies she had control of.

When she had finished with Diego, a limo had already waited to take her to the local headquarters of her company, with a handful of aides who needed her approval and signature on a veritable library of documents.

What was the company called these days? She had flown under the Pegasus banner for a while until Carlson lost control of the company, and she needed to make changes to keep them invisible to the public eye. Was it...Minotaur? She liked working with mythical beasts, specifically from Greek mythology. It was displayed at the front of the building so that would remind her, but she kicked herself for forgetting.

For now, though, there were things that required her attention more than merely knowing about the name of the company she was the de-facto leader of at this particular time of the month. It was always fluid since people tended to pick up on what she was doing and they would have to slip under the public radar again. It really was an unfortunate necessity.

"Ma'am?" one of the aides said and leaning across the small partition between her and the other three men she shared the car with.

"What is it..." she asked and paused as she tried to remember the young man's name.

"Santiago, ma'am," he replied with an understanding smile. "Your phone is ringing insistently, and it appears to be important. Or insistent, at the very least."

Molina yanked her purse open and tugged her phone free. The phone was buzzing, as he had said, and she didn't recognize the number that was being used. She had more than a few people on her payroll who didn't like to be tracked. They changed their numbers from time to time and kept her on her toes—and irritated the living crap out of her.

Well, it was best to find out what they wanted.

She sighed and shook her head before she pressed the device to her ear. "Hello?"

"This is Mr Stevens," said the thick male voice on the other line. "I thought you might want to keep yourself free from connections with me for the duration of this operation."

"You thought right," she said, leaned back in her seat, and crossed her legs. "How can I help you, Mr Stevens?"

"Well, it's more about how I can help you, Miss Molina," he replied. "We've conducted a preliminary tracking investigation into the team that attacked your facility."

"Broke into," she corrected him. She didn't need word that one of her facilities had been attacked spreading. It was all about the doublespeak when those kinds of things were concerned. It was why she had publicists working around the clock to keep them in business.

"Broke into, of course," he said, understanding completely. "Anyway, we have used our connections in the local police force to keep track of the investigation and pursuit of the burglars, and something we thought was interesting came up. An encounter between the burglar, your prize specimen, and a couple of local law enforcement officers came to light and was captured on video. Someone was there to quickly scrub the incriminating evidence in his favor, but our specialist was able to intercept the recording beforehand. I thought you might want to see what we are up against yourself."

"I would," Molina said with a nod.

"The footage is already on its way to your inbox. We are currently using it to try to track your burglar. I will let you know if there are any new developments."

"I appreciate your efforts, Stevens," she said. There was a reason why she had trusted the man with this mission, after all. On top of being discreet, he also knew that she liked to be on top of proceedings, not because she wanted to micromanage them but because she needed to know what was happening in case there was anything that she needed to do herself.

She hung up and sure enough, a new message waited for her in the encrypted inbox she maintained for her more delicate transactions. These were of a kind she didn't want found should investigators in any of the investigations currently in progress against her in various countries decide to get smart and not be open to bribery.

With an inward sigh, she opened the video of the footage and studied it closely. The quality wasn't quite up to her admittedly high standards, but it was good enough that she could at least see what was happening. A man stood outside a car and looked both surprised and annoyed by the two officers talking to him. He wasn’t quite what she had pictured, if she was honest, but things rarely lived up to what she thought they should. He wasn't overly tall or muscular but there was something about him—what sports coaches called the intangibles. She decided it might be the way he positioned himself and how he kept his center of gravity low and ready for a fight while looking like he had no intention to cause any trouble.

His body language fooled the officer who moved closer to him as well as the second cop, who disappeared from the footage, possibly looking for something inside the car. When the man attacked, it wasn't anything flashy and it didn't need to be. After he delivered an elbow into the jaw of the man closest to him, he calmly disarmed him and used him as a body shield to protect himself from the other officer.

Leg shots? Why would he choose leg shots instead of killing them? They were witnesses who would be able to identify him as the man who had shot them. But no, he left them disabled but alive and worked quickly and calmly to make sure they couldn't call for backup.

His method was fast, efficient, and got the job done—not unlike how she wanted her people to operate. This guy was good.

"That's hot," she said, surprised that she had voiced it aloud as she set the video to play again. It was that kind of must-see material.

"Ma'am?" Santiago said, leaning forward. "I'm afraid that we still need your input on the Chernobyl issue. The local authorities are being particularly difficult regarding the salvage attempts."

Molina waved him away. "They're being difficult because they forgot that I own them. Those who matter, anyway. Remind them of the kind of leverage we have over them and I can assure you, they will crumble."

It was a bold claim but one that she had sufficient confidence to make. Those who had tried to come between her and Chernobyl had learned that hardball was the only ball that she played.

"Of course, ma'am," the young man said and typed furiously on his phone.

She restarted the video, feeling that she hadn't given the few seconds she missed the proper attention while dealing with her assistant. It was necessary to learn more about this man and why he had positioned himself against her like that. More importantly, she needed to find out if he could be brought over to her side.

As they escaped the parking lot through another exit and found the open roads, there was silence in the stolen car. Savage was mostly focused on making sure they weren't being followed by any of the local cops. Anja, for her part, said she would try to track whoever had taken their footage before she had managed to erase it.

He didn't mind the silence, but a few glances at Jenna told him that something was on the young woman's mind. Something was bothering her, and it would only get worse if she held it in. Maybe it was a coping mechanism. She had been submitted to the kind of shit no teenager should endure, and there was bound to be residual damage there.

He merely didn't think it was his place to play therapist so he said nothing.

A few more minutes passed before he finally sighed and shook his head. "What's the problem?"

She perked up and turned to look at him. "Are you talking to me? Or to Anja?"

"You," he said. "You have that look on your face that says something is wrong but you don't want to talk about it or don't know how to address it, so you're keeping it in. Trust me, kid, when it comes to issues, it's always better to get it out in the open."

"Oh," she said and tilted her head like she hadn't realized that her emotions were written all over her face. "Okay, well, I guess I was a little surprised by how you handled those police officers back there. You kind of think they would be able to help us and instead, you were on them almost immediately."

"I told you what I was about, kid," he said. "I didn't mince any words or spare you any details. I'm not the greatest guy in the world, and in the eyes of those two we left back there, I'm in the running for the worst. I did leave them alive, though."

"I know, I know," she said and rubbed her temples furiously as if that could somehow alter her thoughts. "And yeah, you were honest about who you were and yes, you left them alive. It's only...you hear something and you accept it, but seeing it in person is a whole different thing."

Savage nodded and kept his gaze focused on the road. "Does that change what you think about me? Would you rather step out and continue on your own? Honestly, the cops in the city are after me because…well, yes, I did break the law here and there. They'll also be after me with more intensity now that I left a couple of their finest needing crutches for the next six months or so. They won't really care much about what you do."

"I'm fine sticking it out with you," Jenna asserted. "Besides, I have the feeling that if I leave, the people running the lab will simply be able to pick me up again. I only need a little time to process it, is all."

"I understand that," he replied and drew a deep breath. She was right. Hearing about it was always considerably less intense than seeing it. Nothing could really prepare her for seeing what he was capable of, no matter how well he put it verbally.

"Am I interrupting something?" Anja asked through the speakers of the car as well as through his earpiece.

Jenna looked surprised by the development.

"What?" the hacker asked. Clearly, she’d seen the young woman's reaction. He chuckled when he considered the wonders of modern electronics. "You said you wanted to be part of both sides of the conversation. Until I can get you an earpiece, this will be as good as it gets."

"Okay," the girl said softly and looked at him for guidance.

He simply smirked and shook his head. "Roll with it. Like me, Anja is a lot to take in at first. Unlike me, though, she's far more lovable with each successive serving."

"Damn right." The Russian laughed, which prompted a smile from his passenger at long last. "Anyway, as much as I want to tune in and chat with you beautiful folks, I actually do have updates on the situation. Courtney approved the use of a private plane to get you out of town, but it won't be available until tomorrow. You'll need to stay alive until then, and I'd suggest maybe finding someplace to hunker down for the night."

"What's left of it," he grumbled under his breath.

"Right," she said. "There's a motel not far from your location. They're the kind you pay for by the hour, and they don't need credit cards or ask for names or IDs. It seems like the kind of place the two of you need."

Jenna narrowed her eyes as if she sensed there was some kind of reference she was missing. She had to have been locked up in that lab for a while for her to not understand what Anja was insinuating.

"We're on our way," Savage said. "I guess I can't use my corporate card to cover the expenses?"

"You're hilarious, Savage." The hacker chuckled. "But no, you can't. You have cash on hand, though, right?"

"Correct," he said. "Thanks for the update, Anja. Talk to you soon."

"No problem." The speakers immediately went dead.

"What will you do when we've gotten you safely out of here?" Savage asked Jenna when the silence threatened to take over again.

"I don't know," she replied. "There's not much out there for me in the world. My folks are gone and I didn't have much in the way of extended family or friends I can fall back on. I guess I could always find something to do with my life—maybe go to college, but considering that I never technically finished high school, there are challenges there too."

He glanced quickly at her, not liking the suddenly negative world view she espoused. "How old are you?"

"Nineteen," she said. "Why?"

"Kid, you have your whole life ahead of you," he said with a small smile. "Choose something that you want to do—anything really—and go after it like life owes you some good karma."

"Is that what you did?" she asked.

"That's not the point." He shook his head. It wasn't what he did. Sure, he'd wanted to be something of a hero when he was a kid, but he'd grown up and realized that bankers made more money. "The point is, you need to find out what it is you want to make of your life and go after it."