We don’t have anything close to seasonally appropriate clothing, and I start to shiver violently as we head to Ford’s SUV. Dani has her arm around my waist, but the memories still threaten. My wrists ache under the light bandages, and I swear I can’t feel my toes anymore, even though the walk takes all of five minutes.
But once we’re in the car, Ford blasts the heater, and with Dani pressed to my side, and the radio playing 80s rock, I pull myself out of my own head. “We have to talk about your terrible taste in music one of these days, man. Depeche Mode? Really?”
Ford laughs as he pulls out of the parking garage. “Good to have you back, Trev. But the music stays. My car, my tunes.”
From the passenger seat, Dax mutters, “This is why I walk everywhere—or pay a car service.”
It feels right to joke around with them. Even if it’s a little forced. I run a hand through my hair and stare out the window as the wintery landscape speeds by. Three days. That’s all it was. Three days. Most of my CIA training sessions on capture, evasion, and torture resistance were longer than that. I shouldn’t be this off balance. I should be able to ground myself here, with Dani.
What if I can’t?
She rests her head on my shoulder, her eyes closed. We’re both still exhausted, even though Dax arranged for first class tickets from Panama City to Boston. Neither of us slept. Instead, we watched old movies on the in-flight entertainment system, curled up in the plush leather seats, hand in hand.
In the glow from the street lights, a fresh snow starts to fall as Ford pulls over in front of my apartment.
Dax turns in his seat and holds out his hand. “Keys, and Dani? A letter came for you this morning.”
“To Second Sight?” she asks, accepting the envelope and running her fingers over the embossing from the Washington Post. “I guess Lincoln figured I’d still be in Boston. It’s probably the bill for getting me out of jail.”
“Why would they charge you for that?” My knuckles pop as I clench my hands, and I’d like to have a few words with her editor. Or a few minutes with no one watching.
“Because I quit.”
“You…quit? Why?”
She tips her head up to meet my gaze. “Lincoln ignored my instructions, published an unfinished article without even contacting me, and nearly got you killed. You don’t seriously think I’d ever consider going back there again, do you?” Her eyes shine, and she shoves the envelope into her small messenger bag. “They’re lucky I’m leaving their part in this whole mess out of the exposé on Ochoa and the Farías government. The Post doesn’t get any of this. The Boston Globe published a teaser article yesterday, and the full story will go out in a couple of days. All thanks to a contact your friend Clive got me.”
“But this is your…you’re a reporter. It’s who you are.”
She huffs and arches a brow at me. “Iama reporter. A damn good one. So good, I got an offer for a cushy job at the Globewhilein Venezuela helping to rescue the man I love. The Post can suck it.”
Dax chuckles. “Dani, welcome home. If Trev doesn’t do a good enough job of showin’ you around Boston, you come to me.”
“Um, Dax?” Ford says. “I hate to break it to you, man, but you’re blind.”
Dani’s laugh is followed by a short hiss as she cups her cheek, then winces. “No more joking around. It hurts too much.” But her lips are curved in a gentle smile.
“When you two are ready,” Dax says, “we’ll get everyone together. Everyone we can, anyway. Ripper…we don’t ask him to leave Seattle. Ever. But you need to meet the rest of the family.”
“Ry made me promise we’d come visit after things settle down,” she replies. “I’ll meet him soon.”
As Dani eases herself from the SUV and holds out her hand for mine, I stare at the two men who gave me a job when I was so fucked up over Gil, I didn’t know up from down. Who trusted me with their lives time and time again. Who organized a rescue mission that should have been suicide, and did it without a second thought.
“Thank you.” I can’t manage anything more than those two words, but I don’t need to. Not tonight.
Ford jerks his head towards Dani. “Take her upstairs, Trev. And make sure you tell her she’s home. Because this is where you both belong. Boston. Second Sight. Here.”
Dax clears his throat and adds, “You’re a part of this fucked up family. Both of you. And I’m sorry, but that’s never goin’ to change. Now go. We’ll talk in a few days.”
Dani slides her arm around my waist as I join her on the sidewalk, and we head upstairs together.
Home. We’re finally home.
* * *
“Fordand I are going to have words,” I say as I lock the door behind us. The bed’s made, there are takeout menus and Second Sight’s corporate AMEX card on the kitchen counter, and a six-pack of beer in the fridge.
“Why? Because he made it so we didn’t have to leave your apartment for a couple of days?” Dani asks as she sets her messenger bag on the chair. “You need to rest. I know Graham gave you a clean bill of health, but…”
