“Ford thinks his former girlfriend’s been kidnapped in Turkmenistan,” I say in a rush.
“Oh my God,” Wren whispers.
Ryker clears his throat, “Sampson’s out for another few days, but Inara and Graham and I can be there in twenty-four hours.”
By the time I fill them in on the details I know and Ford’s desire to investigate on his own first, I feel almost steady. Talking business—even if it involves my friends in danger, makes me feel…capable. I can’t be out there with him, no matter how much I want to be. I’m too broken to save anyone again. But this, I can do. Coordinate. Make things happen.
“We’ll wait, then,” Ry says. “But if Ford can keep me updated—even through Wren—I’ll make sure the team’s prepped if we’re needed.”
“Thanks, brother.”
Over the line, Ryker sucks in a sharp breath, and my chest tightens. In some ways, it’s like no time’s passed. And in others, there’s still this huge chasm between us I don’t know how to cross.
“De oppresso liber,” he says, his voice rough. “We don’t leave a man or woman behind. Ever.”
“I wish I could be out there.” The thought escapes on a whisper before I can stop it, and I scramble to change the subject. “Uh, Wren, there’s something else I need you to work on while we wait to hear from Ford.”
“Give us a minute, sweetheart?” Ry’s question sends my heart rate shooting up. I don’t know if I can have another deep conversation with the man yet, but the phone clicks off speaker, and then his voice rumbles in my ear. “You all right?”
For several seconds, I freeze and turn towards the windows, needing the warmth of the sun on my face. Something to remind me I’m free, alive, and not totally useless. But it’s past five, and only shadows greet me.
“Dax? Answer me, Sergeant.”
The order snaps me back to the present. “Yeah. Fine.” Be honest. Tell him. Stop hiding. Except, I can’t. There’s only so much sharing I can handle in a twenty-four hour period. Only so much weakness I can admit.
“Bullshit.”
“I should be going with him! Is that what you wanted to hear, Ry?” Slamming my hand down on the desk, I wince as a twinge of pain races up my arm. “With Ford and Trevor gone, I’m understaffed, and so I have to tell a client she’s going to be guarded by a fucking blind man for the next couple of days. How the hell am I supposed to keep her safe? I can’t even see her.”
“You beat the crap out of me when we fought,” Ry says quietly. “You lost your sight, brother. Not your skills. Not your training. You still earned that patch, and no one can take that away from you. And if I had to go into a fight with you at my back, I wouldn’t think twice.”
“You’d regret it.”
An edge returns to his voice, and suddenly, we’re back to being strangers again. “Not a chance. Here’s Wren.”
“Well, that sounded like it went swimmingly,” she says dryly. “I’m not even going to ask. Not today. But the two of you need to figure your bull-pucky out soon before I lose my mind. Now tell me about this other case.”
8
Dax
Sitting at the small table with my coffee, I wait for Evianna at the Dunkin’ Donuts outside her office building. With how we left things yesterday, I don’t expect her to be happy to see me, but at least escorting her home will give me a chance to explain.
Explain what? That you’re blind? That’s supposed to fix everything?
All I can hear is Lucy.
“Dax! Are you okay?” She grabs my arm and tries to help me up. “What the hell were you trying to do?”
“Make myself a damn sandwich. You want to tell me why you decided to leave your shoes in the middle of the floor? You know I can’t see them.“
“I didn’t expect you to get up. I’m not perfect, Dax. All these changes? Putting everything back in the exact same spot, always warning you before I touch you…not to mention the nightmares? Did you ever think about how this affects me?”
I couldn’t tell her the truth back then. That I was so wrapped up in my own shit, too hurt, too afraid to even realize she was there most of the time. Even when she tried to help.
The bell over the door rings, and the scent of freesia envelops me. “So this is how your company runs things?” Evianna’s voice holds a note of annoyance as she stops a few feet away. “Ford was supposed to text me and let me know who was meeting me here. He didn’t.”
Frustration stiffens my spine, and I sit up a little straighter. “Ford had an unexpected family emergency to take care of. If he said he was going to text you, he should have followed through. But I understand why he couldn’t. And I’m sorry.”
