“We ask one of the Homeland agents.” Kawan shrugged. “I’m sure they can come up with a reason why they’d know about it.”
“They have what I have, and if they go asking Lorre about it, that alerts him we're digging. If he's our guy, he could destroy the evidence linking him to the ambush before we can use it.”
Grady stood, his legs shaking slightly as he rose. "I need to get back before anyone notices I'm gone."
"How do we contact you?" Kawan asked.
"You don't. I'll reach out when I can." Grady headed toward his SUV. ”
Silence returned to the ravine.
Only now, it was heavier than before.
“What the hell do you make of that?” Thor asked as he paced in front of the picnic table. “Because I’m not sure where to file half that shit.”
“I wonder if Specs knows either of those agents,” Lark said. “And we need Jupiter to look at that security feed from a different vantage point because it’s no longer just about what’s on it, but who else accessed it.”
“Texting him now.” Kawan had his phone in his hands and tapped at the screen. “I’ll have him ask Specs about Homeland.”
“Tell him not to tell Specs what he’s doing.” Lark raced to Kawan’s side and rested her hand on his biceps.
He glanced up, eyes wide. “She’s going to question what he’s doing.”
“She’s got an appointment with Henley in twenty. Tell him to do whatever magic he does when she’s tucked away in Henley’s office.” Lark's fingers curled into fists. “Before you go telling me I’m doing the right thing, let me tell you how utterly selfish I’m being because I need Specs to be… herself. I need her to get through to the other side as fast as she can. So, don’t pat me on the back for having a heart. This is about getting the job done. Not dealing with feelings.” The words tasted like lies.
Kawan tucked his cell into his pocket as they dispersed into one of two SUVs parked twenty feet away. He waved to Thor as he slipped into the rear passenger seat before Brick backed out.
Kawan pressed his hand on her back and turned them toward the mountains. “Call it whatever you want. But you know she can’t do the job unless she deals with what she witnessed. With her survivor's guilt.”
“Fucking labels. I hate them,” Lark said.
“So do I.” Kawan looped his arm around her waist, tugging her closer. “Specs is a tough cookie. A real fighter. She needs a moment to breathe. You’re giving her that. It’s not selfish, and you’re not doing it only for the job. You’re doing it because you care. She’s family. Your family.”
“I hate seeing her like this.” She leaned into Kawan, not caring who watched. His team knew there was history.
And God, she was exhausted. Bone-deep, soul-tired exhausted. The kind that came from watching people you cared about fall apart while you held yourself together with duct tape and sheer stubborn will. Specs was drowning in survivor's guilt, and Lark knew exactly how that felt because she was treading water in the same dark ocean. The difference was Specs didn't know how to lie to herself, yet. Didn't know how to compartmentalize the dead faces into a box labeled "mission-causalities" and shove it deep where it couldn't touch her during daylight hours.
But that was a shit way to live, wasn't it? And Lark had dragged this brilliant, naive girl into a world that chewed people up.
“I brought her into this world. I recruited her, knowing she hadn’t an ounce of training for black ops. I needed her computer and intelligence skill set and?—”
“Stop, Lark,” Kawan whispered. “Specs is a brilliant woman with the power to say no to a job. It’s not like she didn’t know what she was getting into was dangerous. She might’ve worked in the basement of the FBI, but for fuck’s sake, the shit she had to see doing cybercrimes and intelligence had to be horrifying.”
“Cyber is the worst, especially when they involve children.” And Lark thought she’d seen things during the course of her career. “The things Specs told me made me shiver.”
“I can only imagine.” Kawan turned. He took her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “You’re doing right by Specs. Now, do right by yourself.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Being here isn’t enough.” He leaned in and brushed his lips over her mouth. “You have an appointment with Henley this afternoon. I expect you to keep it.”
“Why do you have to ruin a perfectly good moment?”
He shrugged, taking her hand and tugging her toward the SUV. “Because I want bigger moments. Ones that matter. Ones that make up lifetimes of moments. Not just snapshots that fade into the background.” He paused. “Because this time, if you slip out in the middle of the night, I’m coming after you.” He yanked open the car door.
She stared at him for a long time before climbing into the passenger seat of the SUV. She had no words. No retort. No quick-witted response to put him in his place, reminding him that she didn’t do entanglements. That they were simply two adults who sometimes had fun together.
Until he ruined it by tossing around the L word. And now he was getting all weird again.
