Midnight Captive by Elle Kennedy Page B

get rid of me that easily?”
    “It was worth a try.” His displeased gaze shifted to the door. “Did you really have to shoot it?”
    “Damn right I did. It was either the doorknob or you, and we need you alive if we’re going to rescue Oliver.”
    At the thought of Oliver, Bailey’s entire body clenched with unhappiness. God, why was
he
the Reilly brother Eamon O’Hare had decided to abduct?
Sean
was the pain in the ass.
    She definitely didn’t buy Sean’s assertion that his former boss had chosen Ollie out of convenience. If O’Hare knew the Reilly brothers half as well as Bailey did, then he was well aware that Sean Reilly was the deadlier of the twins. The one with a higher tolerance for bloodshed and deception, the one who’d undertake any mission, no matter how dangerous.
    Well, there was no way she was allowing Sean’s recklessness to lead to some Irish gangster killing Oliver.
    From what Bailey knew about O’Hare, the man wouldn’t hesitate to harm Ollie. Although O’Hare’s group was officially called the New Republicans, its unofficial Irish Dagger moniker apparently stemmed from Rabbit’s penchant for gutting his enemies with a blade.
    “You know, you’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met,” Sean grumbled.
    “Damn straight. And I’m not going anywhere, so deal with it.” She scowled. “What’s on the flash drive?”
    He shrugged. “No clue.”
    “You haven’t checked it yet?”
    “I was just about to before you shot up my door,” he said pointedly.
    But he didn’t seem concerned that anyone could walk in now, and Bailey understood why when she noticed the security monitors on the wall behind him. More than a dozen of them, displaying both the interior and exterior of the building. Sean had been able to watch her coming up, step by step, from the lobby to the stairwell to his door. Beneath the screens was a row of file cabinets spanning the entire back wall of the loft.
    Bailey gave the rest of the place a cursory examination. Small kitchen, unmade futon bed across the room, leather sofa in the center, and a heavy punching bag dangling from the ceiling in the corner. Then she glanced back at the file cabinets, cocking her head at Sean. “Well, aren’t you old-school.”
    “Ollie and I keep hard copies of every piece of intelligence we gather. We have dossiers on thousands of people.” He waved an absent hand at the cabinets as he strode toward the adjacent wall, which featured a computer setup that rivaled Paige’s.
    Bailey studied the array of laptops and equipment onthe long desk, then shifted her gaze to the numerous world and city maps pasted on the wall. Red and green thumbtacks marked various areas on the maps, but she didn’t ask what the colors stood for. People, she assumed. Operatives, spooks, criminals. Sean and Oliver knew a lot of people—and a lot of dirty secrets. They were intelligence magicians, producing data out of thin air, and Bailey had no trouble seeing why even the most secretive sorts were so willing to spill their guts to the Reilly brothers. They used their charm to lure information from unsuspecting marks, and if they ever needed to apply some pressure, the twins had the good cop/bad cop routine mastered.
    Her gaze flicked back to the file cabinets. “Is there a dossier on me in there?” she asked, but she already knew the answer to that. For years Sean had been bragging about having a file on her.
    “Yes sirree. I dare you to try and get it.” He flashed a cocky smile.
    Curiosity had her wandering over to the nearest cabinet, and she examined it closely as Sean settled on his leather desk chair and booted up one of the computers.
    To Bailey’s annoyance, the file cabinets were locked. And couldn’t be
un
locked, not with a key anyway. Opening them required both a security code and a fingerprint on the electronic panel.
    “Asshole,” she muttered.
    Sean glanced over with another grin. “I’ll open it for you myself,” he offered