“You taking on a job?” He’s wary, but interest piques his tone. “Angel? Can you come in here?”
A few quiet words pass between the two, and then there’s a click over the line. “You’re on speaker, Ry.”
“Cam, I need some intel on a Wren Kane. She’s…I don’t know what she is. But she went to MIT for computer science engineering, and—”
“She’s a hacker,” Cam says. “I met her once. Royce tried to tempt her away from wherever she’s working with a hell of a job offer, but she didn’t want to leave. She came out for an interview.”
“And theNevsky Bratva?”
“Ry…” West blows out a breath. “Why are you asking about the Russian mob?”
“Because Wren Kane is wrapped up with them somehow. And she asked for my help. And then decided she didn’t trust me with the details and bolted.” Those pale green eyes haunt me, and I don’t know why I can’t let this go.
West clears his throat. “If they’re after her, she’s in deep shit. TheNevsky Bratvais the largest heroin operation in eastern Russia. They have bases in St. Petersburg and Moscow, and they’ve recently expanded to the United States. Miami and New Jersey. One of the guys from BUDS works for the CIA now. He told me some stories…”
“I was afraid of that. No wonder Dax turned her down.”
“Dax…Holloway?” West asks. From the tone in his voice, I can imagine what he looks like right now. Brows arched, hands on his hips. Blue eyes dark. “Ry, is that why you went to Boston?”
I don’t want to admit my failings, don’t want to have to explain how Dax kicked me out and told me he never wanted to see me again.
“Um…” Cam says. “Who’s Dax Holloway?”
“The only other survivor of Hell. My best friend before I fucked everything up. And Wren’s boss.”
West whistles. “So, let me get this straight. You went to Boston to try to fix things with Dax. And somehow, you meet one of his employees who has a problem with the Russian mob—and her boss—andyou’regoing to help her out?”
“No.” I start to pace, digging my fingers into my palm, using the pain in my joints to help me focus. “Maybe.”
The call switches off of speaker, and it’s just West on the line with me now. “Listen, Ry. I know shooting Coop left you with some new demons. I’m not going to pretend to know why or how to help. But if you’re going to tangle with the Russian mob, don’t do it halfway. And don’t even think about doing it alone. You need us, we’re there.”
No way in hell I’ll call West or Inara for this. Not after everything I’ve put them through. But since admitting that will only lead to a fight—one he’ll never win—I sigh. “If I make a move, I’ll let you know. Thanks, West. And…congratulations. Beers are on me when I get back.”
“Just come back alive,” he says.
“Hooah.”
* * *
After a solitary lobsterroll on the waterfront, I take a walk to try to clear my head. But though I set out with no destination in mind, I find myself outside Dax’s office, staring up at the sixth-floor windows.
Until the front doors open, and a white cane emerges, followed by the man who spent fifteen months on the other side of a stone wall, tapping out messages to try to keep me sane.
Dax strides with purpose, a man who knows exactly where he’s going and probably doesn’t need the cane any more than he needs me in his life. I fall into step a dozen yards back, staying behind him as he weaves through a throng of people, pauses at a stoplight, and then sets off across the street.
Outside one of a dozen identical buildings in the North End, Dax does a one-eighty, leans against a tree, and stares right at me. “If you think I can’t hear you, Ry, you’re a damn fool. You’ve been on my six since I left the office.”
Fuck.
I shove my hands into my pockets as I approach. “What gave me away?”
“You’ve worn the same aftershave for fifteen years. Caught a whiff of it when I left the office. And you apologized twice when you almost ran into people three blocks back.”
When I’m on mission, I never miss a beat. But here…I’m out of my element. “Instructor Taylor would’ve had my ass.”
“Damn straight. You want to talk more, you follow me inside. You can borrow some gloves.”
* * *
