She glanced down at her leg, and then back to me. “It’s nothing. The missing girls are counting on me. If you take me in that hospital, you kill them all.”
“What missing girls?”
“Take me somewhere else and I’ll explain everything. Please. Just no hospital, no police.”
She was scared, beaten, and dead on her feet. She swayed, gritting her teeth against the pain and looking like she could topple over at any time. Despite the cool night air, sweat beaded against her pale skin. Against my better judgment, I picked her up and headed back to the car. As I dumped her in the back seat, she passed out again. Swearing, I took my wife beater out of my bag and tied it just above the wound on her thigh to stanch the blood flow.
Then, with no other options, I took her to my house.
Tap
AS I PACED in front of the woman asleep on the sofa in my basement, I tried to come up with a game plan, but nothing in my training had prepared me for this. No, I’d slammed the door on my training the second I hoisted this beauty over my shoulder, and now I was so far out of my element I could barely think. A woman I’d just met—who clearly had ties with the Seattle Serpents—was in my personal space.
And I brought her here.
I had to be losing my mind to do something so fucking stupid.
But I wasn’t entirely out of options. This broad didn’t know who I was, and since I was still wearing the makeup mama had painted me up with, my real face remained hidden. She could probably pick me out of a lineup, but only with my shirt off.
And it wasn’t like I’d been careless. Before bringing her to my house, I took apart her cell phone and searched her purse and body for taps or wires. Then I blindfolded her, unwilling to take the chance that she’d sleep through the ride. She didn’t even stir as I parked in the garage, carried her down to the basement, laid her on the sofa, and removed her blindfold.
We’d been home for almost an hour and she was still out cold, which was worrisome.
The cut on her arm was shallow, but the one on her thigh looked bad. I’d never stitched anyone up in my life. If I was into that sort of shit, I would have become a medic, not an intelligence officer. I could call Mama home since she knew how to sew, but I refused to bring her into this mess. No, she and Hailey needed to stay far away until I got rid of our visitor.
I’ll just look up a how-to video. No biggie.
As I pulled out my cell to do that, it vibrated with an incoming call from Link. Hoping he’d come up with some sort of solution to the problem stretched out on my sofa, I accepted the call and put it to my ear. “Hey Prez.”
“I’m gonna kick your ass for hanging up on me earlier. I need you to know that.”
Some things never changed, and I wouldn’t expect less from the president. Chuckling, I shook my head. “I was kind of busy at the time, and since you wouldn’t help…”
“Oh, I was offering help, just not the kind you wanted. How’s the package? Have you figured out what to do with it yet?”
I glanced at the woman who was still out cold. “Negative.”
“I can still send Havoc to help. He and Julia are at the bar having a drink with Stocks.”
And have one more person find out where I lived? “Thanks, but I’m home now.”
“Yeah? So? You said you still need help.”
Link knew what was up, so why was he making me spell it out for him? “You know I’m a private man, Prez.”
I expected him to go off, to give me more of his ‘shit or get off the pot’ speech, but instead, he let out a frustrated breath and mumbled, “Twenty-seven.”
What the fuck is twenty-seven?
The wheels in my head spun before they finally sparked and sputtered out. I had nothing. Link knew I couldn’t let shit I didn’t know slide, so he liked to throw out some random word or number and let it eat at me until I asked what it was. I was too damn curious for my own good and I couldn’t resist knowledge. The bastard used it against me. Determined not to give in, I said, “Sounds like we have nothing more to discuss.”
“Oh, we have all sorts of shit to talk about, you’re just too chicken to do it.”
Now, he was baiting me. My thumb hovered over the “end call” button, but I couldn’t do it. Throwing my head back, I gave in. “What the fuck is twenty-seven?”
“It’s the number of funerals I’ve attended this year for vets who didn’t have anyone else.” His voice was suddenly somber, serious. “Earlier, when you called, I was on the phone with the Patriot Guard Riders, learning about number twenty-eight. It’s being held tomorrow at Green Hills Funeral Home. Twenty-eight of our brothers who served our country only to come back and die alone. They lived here, in our city, and we didn’t reach them, didn’t find them in time. Think about that shit for a second.”
I don’t know what I was expecting, but that wasn’t it. Everyone knew Link had connections with the Patriot Guard Riders who sometimes sent him details about the funerals of veterans without family, but I had no idea he’d attended that many. We were in August, so he was attending between three and four every month.
