Ryker
Two days. We’ve been stuck in this hotel room for two fucking days. At least I was able to upgrade us to a suite. I don’t need the second bedroom—a hell of a lot safer to sleep in front of the door—but at least this way, I don’t smell honeysuckle constantly.
Only every time I pass by her room. Which is probably more often than I should.
Slowly, I let my gaze rove over the large bath towels spread out on the floor in front of me. Two pistols, a rifle with a collapsible stock, half a dozen clips, five boxes of bullets, a tactical knife, fully stocked med kit, two coils of rope, black greasepaint, a compass, two batteries capable of charging any of the four burner phones, cables, two IDs for me, two for Wren, and two for Elena and Semyon—if they’re even still alive.
I still feel like I’m missing something. Or many things.
Dax and his team came through—in a big way—but he made a point to send Ford to deliver all this shit rather than come himself.
Why can’t I settle? This mission isn’t any more dangerous than Colombia. Except, West almost died on that trip. I can still feel his blood running over my hand. And he’s a goddamned SEAL. Wren…she’s not trained.
Her bedroom door is open a crack, and I can hear her talking to herself. Or maybe to the dog. Ford is going to keep the little fur ball while we’re gone, but since the Fairmont allows dogs, I told him to bring Pixel here until we leave.
Wren’s face when she saw the dog…I don’t know that I’ll ever forget it. The woman hasn’t cried once in the four days I’ve known her, but her eyes watered and her lower lip wobbled when Pixel ran into the room.
Pushing to my feet, I wince as the gunshot wound twinges. I can fight—proved that laying the two assholes out the night Wren was attacked—but I’m not 100%. And damn. A hard knot tightens in my chest.
Creeping to the cracked door, I listen to Wren coo to the pup. “I’m going to miss you, baby girl,” she says as she nuzzles Pixel’s neck. “Ford will take good care of you. And when I get back, maybe we’ll go up to Maine for a few days and you can play in the ocean.”
Returning her focus to the well-worn copy of Harry Potter, she mouths a string of letters and numbers, then enters them into some decryption program on her laptop.
“What the hell are you trying to tell me, Z?” She twirls her wrist gently, and I hate seeing the bruises staining her pale skin.
“Does it still hurt?” I don’t mean to disturb her, and she flinches as her entire body jerks.
“N-no. And sheesh. Have you ever heard of knocking?” Pixel jumps off the bed and pads over to me, sitting at my feet and thumping her tail on the carpet.
“The door was open.” Turning my attention to the dog, I crouch down and peer at her hopeful expression. “Trying to tell me something?”
She yips, runs back to her little bed in the corner of the room, and whines softly. Though I think we’re safe here, I won’t let Wren walk the dog. So now, the little thing comes to me every time she needs to go outside.
“All right, fluffball. Come on. Get your leash.” I jerk my head towards the main room, and Pixel snags her leash between her teeth and drags it over to me.
“Can I come?” Wren slides off the bed, and I frown. “I haven’t been outside in two days.”
No. Stay inside. Stay in Boston. Stay alive.
Despite my fears, the look in her pale green eyes…I relent before I realize I’ve opened my mouth. “Fine. But cover up that hair.”
She grabs the black knit cap I got for her yesterday and hides her curls as she hurries after me, but skids to a stop and gawks when she sees the weapons.
“Cracker Jacks,” she whispers. “Do you really need all…that?”
“Maybe.”
Cracker Jacks?Where does she come up with this shit?
After I drape the bedspread over my gear, I clip Pixel’s leash to her collar and hold the door open for Wren. She eyes my hip, but I’m not about to reassure her. The pistol probablyisoverkill.
“How in the world did you teach her that leash trick?” Wren asks as I check the door locks.
After a shrug, I meet her gaze for a split second before returning my focus to our surroundings. “Didn’t have to.”
Down the back stairs, out the hotel’s rear door, and around the block we walk, complete silence between us. Pixel is in heaven. Sniffing the sidewalks, stopping at each tree to give it careful consideration before choosing one on the corner to deposit her scent.
Wren glares at me while the dog does her business, huffs out a little breath, and jams her hands on her hips. “You really don’t know how to carry on a conversation, do you?”
