I leave him on the elevator, and my last glimpse of him ties a knot in the pit of my stomach. Things are definitely not okay, and I worry they never will be again. Not for him.
Dax
The three raps on my door aren’t unexpected. “Come on in, Ford.”
“I got the call.” My visitor chair creaks as he drops down. “Nomar found four bodies outside of Batash. Two local bodyguards, one doctor, and an aid worker. All men. The others in the group were women. Joey, a twenty-four-year-old medical tech on her first oversees assignment, and a twenty-three year-old junior resident from Cedars-Sinai.”
“And no sign of them?” Unease crawls up my spine. That area of Turkmenistan is known for sex trafficking, and if whoever attacked them killed the men, things for Joey could get dicey. Fast.
“No. But the locals told Nomar stories of their daughters going missing. Being taken to Basaga and then disappearing.” After a pause, Ford swallows loudly. “Nomar’s waiting for me at the Uzbeki border.” Pain infuses his every word, and even his breathing sounds strained.
“Take Trevor with you. And…I’ll call Ryker. If anyone’s got Joey, he and his team…they can get her out.”
“Dax—”
“I talked to Ry last night. Couple of hours after you left. This is what he does, Ford. K&R. Let me help. I can’t…go with you. But I can do this.”
“Let me get there first. Get the lay of the land. I’ll take Trevor. He’s got contacts all over the Middle East. But…” A sigh, and Ford scoots the chair closer. The scrape of the legs on the hardwood floor pierces the stillness of the room. “We were already understaffed this week. And if I take Trevor, there’s no one to watch Evianna. Unless you want to pull Ronan or Vasquez off nights.”
Shit. He’s right.
“Ronan’s too green. He’s only been with us for a month. He’s fine as a backup to Vasquez, but not on his own. Not with a guy who’s escalating to violence.” I rub the back of my neck, trying to ease the stress gathered there. “You do realize asking a blind man to step in as bodyguard is fucking ridiculous, right?”
Ford’s choked laugh breaks a fraction of the tension suffusing the room. “Maybe. But from the little bit of research I did last night, this Kyle’s never been in trouble before—other than some stupid college pranks.”
“So why is he threatening Evianna? People get fired all the time and don’t go batshit crazy. Vasquez didn’t see anything on watch?”
“Nope.” Ford’s phone buzzes. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath. “Nomar arranged for transpo from Turkey. But I have to be there in thirty-six hours. I typed up the case notes first thing this morning. They’re in your inbox.”
I stand and skirt my desk, waiting for Ford’s hazy outline to rise before I hold out my hand. When he wraps his fingers around mine, I pull him in a little closer so I have to tip my head up to have any hope of him seeing my expression. “Promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“Don’t go dark on me. Check in, and if you need help, you let me call Ry.”
Ford wraps his other arm around me for a single breath and gives me a hard hug. I stiffen at the contact, but this is my friend, so I force myself not to pull away.
“Be safe,” I say as he releases me and heads for the door. “And get her back alive.”
“I’m going to try.”
The office feels empty. Ford. Trevor. Wren. Clive. It’s just me, Ella, Hailey, and Bastian, and they’re all tied up on their own cases. Holed up in their offices. No client chatter. Even Marjorie’s quiet. Down four people, I made the executive decision to close Second Sight to new clients for the next week.
Stretching my legs out under my desk, I pull out my phone. “VoiceAssist: dial Wren.”
“Dialing…Wren,” the calm voice says.
“Hey, Dax. What’s up?” She’s never sounded so…happy. “I finished scanning for those stolen photographs from the mayor’s phone. Ford should have the final report in a couple of hours.”
“Ford’s…taking care of some shit.” I don’t know how much to tell her, except…they might need Ryker’s help. “He and Trevor are on their way to Uzbekistan.”
“What the flapjacks are they doing there?”
“It’s a long story. But…they might need you…and Ryker.” The words don’t feel as hard to say as I thought they would. “If he’s around, put me on speaker?”
“Just a sec.” Rustling carries over the line, and then the connection clicks. “Okay, boss. We’re here.”
“Ry.” This is harder. When we hung up the previous night, I felt like someone had wrung me out and thrown me from a fourth floor window. Spit it out. Stick to business. You can do the friendship thing later.
