without the aid of the intercom. âI thought they were supposed to be here,â a gruff voice said through the speaker.
Rachelâs breath hitched.
James turned to make sure she was okay. She seemed to understand his unasked question because she nodded, her lips in a tight line. She crossed her legs, sat on the ground and the boys jumped onto either side of her lap. She whispered into their ears, but he couldnât hear what she was saying. He trusted she was attempting to soothe them as sheâd done earlier.
âMaybe theyâre onto us,â the other man said. âI found a car in the garage, but itâs empty.â
âOr they got picked up by that neighbor girlfriend of his.â
James turned in time to see Rachel roll her eyes.
âSo weâre going to check there, too?â the other manâs voice responded. âI heard sheâs a spitfire.â
âIâll go. She wonât give me problems.â
The other man laughed, a sickening chuckle. âJust because you hide behind your NSA badge.â
âHey,â the man yelled. The sound of shuffling feet rattled the bookshelf door upstairs. James flinched. If they were thorough, it wouldnât take them long to figure out there was no wall behind it.
âI wouldnât be here if your team hadnât messed up,â the second man said, his voice seething. âSo get to work finding the guyâs computer. Grab any electronics you see like a hard drive or something.â
James glanced at the backpack at his feet where heâd stuffed his laptop. Even if they got their hands on it, he felt sure they wouldnât find anything of use. Heâd wiped all evidence of his work from it.
âTrash the place?â
âWhatever it takes to get the job done.â
Jamesâs heart dropped. He shoved the phone back in his pocket. NSA? This wasnât how the NSA acted, so either the agent was a fake or crooked, but either way, the police wouldnât do him much good if one of the men had an NSA badge to flash.
But now he knew what they were after. Theyâd confirmed his suspicions. This was about Launch Operations, and Derrick was the only one he could trust. He clicked the intercom volume off before the boys could understand their toys were in danger of being smashed. âI think itâs time to go.â
Rachel extracted herself to stand. âWhere?â
Crash!
James grimaced and swung his backpack over his shoulder. âLetâs focus on getting out of here first.â He pointed to the white door behind the staircase. âThis office used to be part of the garage before we remodeled. Boys, time to go.â He led the way in case one of the boys slammed the door open, drawing attention to their location. He cracked the door open and trained his eyes on the set of steps connected to the kitchen.
All clear.
Rachel followed behind.
He waved them closer but kept his eye on the other door into the house. âRemember, no noise, boys. Quiet game.â
Rachel placed Caleb in his booster seat while Ethan jumped into his. James shoved the backpacks the boys had discarded underneath their feet.
âWe can buckle them in later,â she whispered.
James grabbed the seat belt to Ethanâs left. That was not a risk he was willing to take, no matter how short the ride. âNo. We buckle them in now.â
Her wide eyes met his for half a second before she nodded and buckled Caleb.
âLift the handle as you close it,â Rachel whispered, but it came out more like a hiss. Closing the doors still made some noise. James hoped the chaos the men were creating inside would mask their movements.
A moment later they were all inside the Charger. Rachel held her purse against her chest like someone clinging to a flotation device pictured on an airplane safety pamphlet, and her backpack sat between her feet. âYou, too,â he said softly, his eyes drifting to the