Access Denied: The Bullseye

14. Lovely Gentle-Gang

YOU HAVE SOMETHING OF MINE. The message was seared into Genevieve's mind. She remembered when almost half a year ago, Redstone's people had come and carved the words into the ground. Or maybe they were Rothstein's people—she couldn't keep track. 

She felt around for the pain in her hand. After getting handled by Kiara and the gun recoil shooting up her arm, she'd assumed it would last. Feeling around now, she realised she had no excuse. The mark of pain was gone. She couldn't even find the spot. 

"You said we'd been tracked?" Genevieve asked. 

Jackson's hand gripped hers tighter. She didn't see anyone that was supposed to be there. If someone did find out about the safe house, Kiara was outside. Genevieve had left her there. Had she been hurt? 

But could they have been tracked? There was no way that was possible. A Blind Spot safe house was exactly that. A blind spot. Something that hid in plain sight. The whole organization stood on the premise of invisibility. Present but unseen. She had many complaints with the Blind Spot and its Director but this wasn't it. Redstone couldn't have "tracked" them. It would take too much knowledge of BSA's structure. They couldn't have unless... 

Unless, they had someone on the inside. 

"Yeah," Jackson said, his voice coming out in pants. "It's the only way how. I mean we could have been followed but that's unlikely. Gangs may lay low but subtlety is beyond them. Something happened. We missed something and now they're using it to track us."

"How do you know though?"

She sensed the danger, but she couldn't see it. She heard nothing—no bullets, no yells, no revving engines. It was as calm as it was when they were outside. 

"How else Genevieve?" he said, annoyed. "There's a tracker in something around here. Maybe intentionally or I don't know. Maybe someone from Blind Spot had it put into something, I'm not sure. But there is something. I just need to get us to a safe place and then we can see what we're working with."

"And where are we going?" she asked. 

"To get your things—they're packed right?"

She nodded. "And then we're leaving. Deaton, Davidson and Nicole are already out. They're going to try and intercept them before they reach here. But that's just to buy us time. We need to find and dispose of whatever led them to us and then we leave."

Carlos came out from the opposite room, pulling at his finger. He slipped his ring off and into one of his pockets. He gave her a nod when he saw her and then pulled Jackson to the side. Genevieve took that as her queue to get her things from the room they had given her. 

Nothing was out of place. They had just gotten there today. There was no time to do anything. The only thing that wasn't meant to be here was the necklace she had taken—stolen—from the Rothstein mansion. But that shouldn't have caused anything. It was a heavy piece of jewelery but it was platinum. For the crowd that the Rothstein brothers surrounded themselves with, losing a piece of platinum shouldn't be that big a deal. 

After the immense guilt she felt for having it, she'd taken extra doses of her medication and sat quietly staring at a wall for sometime. The tears eventually came and she had muffled them with a pillow so no one heard her. But Nicole probably did. She was a heavy sleeper, but Genevieve was sure she knew that she was sad at the very least. 

Vincent Redstone had touched her that day. He hadn't touched her before. Maybe she had some sort of tracking device planted on her. Flynn had drank his champagne—could chips even be planted that way? If anything, there was no way for Redstone to track them so quickly and efficiently that their team had no time to do anything.