Password Incorrect

19. Accent Slip

"Who else can access it?" I ask.

"Me, myself and I."

I want to slap him. "I mean it Ryder, who else can access it?"

"Just me. It's hooked up to my phone. I can turn it on and off remotely whenever I want to," He replies and then pauses. "Well, when it's on the FBI can see it too. It's their tech."

I curse him out. Once I go through every name I can think of for him, I start repeating them all in French.

Ryder lets out a sigh. "There you go summoning the dead again. What is it with you and French?"

"Is the tracking device on right now?" I ask him.

He shakes his head. "No. I turned it off when I caught up with you. What's the problem?"

"Do not turn it on again."

"Don't give me a reason to."

I want to kill him. Okay, maybe killing him is taking it a bit far. I want to seriously maim him though.

"What's the problem matchstick?"

"The problem is that the FBI has access to the tracker."

"Only when it's on," Ryder says. "And I don't see how that's a problem."

"Do you know what bribes are?"

"I'm not an idiot."

"That's up for debate," I respond. "Volkov gets what he wants through bribes and extortion mostly. There are people in all forms of law enforcement on his payroll."

Ryder's jaw clenches as he finally understands the problem. "So he's likely to also have access to the tracker, but only when it's on."

"Not just that," I reply. "He's probably learned that the FBI is protecting me now as well."

Ryder nods and says nothing for a long moment, his jaw still clenched. His hands tighten on the steering wheel. "We can't go back to the FBI," He finally says. "We can keep in touch with Damien and my father, but no one else."

"Which also means we can't use any of the FBI safe houses."

Ryder nods slowly in agreement. "I'll figure something else out." He lets out a long sigh. "This is all your fault."

I know those words did not just come out of his mouth.

"Excuse me?" I practically growl.

"If you didn't keep trying to run off, I would not have had to put a tracker on you."

"It's your fault for putting the tracker on me to begin with. Nobody forced you to do it."

"You forced me," He retorts hotly.

"How do you figure that?"

While he goes on to explain how this is all my fault, I go on to try and tell him how it's actually entirely his fault. Though, with our voices clashing and steadily getting louder, I don't believe either one of us can actually hear the other.

What was a spirited argument-that I was going to win, might I add-has basically turned into a yelling match now.

I don't even know what he's saying. I can't make anything out of our voices clashing together as he continues to yell who knows what at me and I continue yelling threats and insults at him.

I'm so mad as I continue to yell back at him. I'm so mad I'm not paying any attention and one of the things I'd so successfully kept hidden for years slips out.