“Not everyone is you, Ry.”
His right eyebrow arches. “Of course not. I’m one of a kind, little bird. Mean and ugly enough they broke the mold. Good thing too. Otherwise you’d have two of me to deal with.” His deadpan delivery and the complete lack of humor in his expression makes Wren laugh, which I think might have been the point.
“Snickerdoodles. I can barely handle one of you. Though an extra babysitter would come in handy in a couple of months.”
Ripper—who didn’t say a single word the entire drive—pulls a duffel bag from the back of the massive SUV. His German Shepherd, Charlie, is glued to his side. “Cara can’t wait to be an aunt,” he says quietly. “You won’t be hurting for help.”
Wren grins at me and Wyatt. “I hope not. Though Cara’s going to need backup.”
Is she talking about us? Wyatt takes my hand, his grip almost painfully tight.
“All that shrapnel damage…the docs don’t think I can have kids.”
Did he want them? Before Simon, I’d thought maybe… But after the hell of the last three years, I’m not even sure if I can take care of myself, let alone a child.
Ripper shuts the back hatch of the SUV, and I jerk back to reality. Wondering about what might have been or might never be? That can wait until Ryker’s team stops Simon.
“Wow.” A massive climbing wall rises at least fifty feet in the air along one side of the warehouse. Next to it, a boxing ring, free weights, and several machines I don’t recognize, but that look…painful.
The far corner is almost homey. A kitchen, dining table, couches, recliners, gaming consoles, ping pong and foosball tables, even thick, blue carpets.
Wren shuffles off to one of the recliners, swivels it around to face a big conference table next to a huge wall of computer equipment, and sinks down with a sigh. “Make yourself comfortable, Hope. Drinks are in the fridge, snacks are in the cabinet. MREs…well, I don’t recommend those much.”
“Looks a hell of a lot different than the last time I was here.” Wyatt drops the messenger bag on one of the couches and rubs his fingers over the rough stubble on his chin. Wandering over to the boxing ring, he runs his hand along the padded ropes. “Still have workouts twice a week?”
From the kitchen, where he’s starting a pot of coffee, West snorts. “Three times. At least. Four if even a single thing went wrong on our last op.”
Wyatt chuckles. “Sounds about right. This setup makes me wish I’d kept my boxing gloves.”
“Got plenty of gear in the lockers.” Filling a metal water bottle, West nods toward the back of the warehouse. “You want to go a few rounds, we’ll make it happen.”
“Hey. I’m Raelynn.” The tall, willowy blond with a thick Texas accent strides over to me and thrusts out her hand. Her firm grip matches her stance—back ramrod straight, shoulders set. If there’s a single ounce of fear in this woman, it’s buried so deep, no one will ever find it.
“Hope. But I guess you could figure that out.”
“Met everyone yet?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Wyatt has, I think. But I haven’t.”
“So, here’s the deal. I was Air Force for ten years. Inara over there? She’s a sniper. Former Army Ranger. Graham was in the Coast Guard. You came in with Ripper, so assumin’ you met him already. He can trace a single dollar all the way to hell and back again. West plans all our shit, and Ryker rides our asses the whole damn time.”
“Where’s Caleb?” West asks.
Ryker runs a hand over his bald head. “I didn’t tell him about today. Something’s off with that one. Wren’s working on a fresh background packet. When she’s done, we’ll decide what to do with him.”
“Sure you don’t want Zephyr to ‘check my work’?” Wren mutters.
“Baby, that’s not why I asked her for help.” In three steps, Ryker’s in front of Wren. He drops to a knee and tries to take her hand, but she keeps her gaze pinned to her laptop screen. “You couldn’t stop throwing up. You needed to rest.”
Everyone looks away as Ryker slides Wren’s laptop aside and wraps her in his arms. He murmurs to her, his deep voice too low to make out the words, and when he stops, Wren sniffles once, then clears her throat. “Can we get to work, please?”
“Right. Hope?” Ryker pushes to his feet. “We need a list of everyone you knew before you met Arrens. Friends. Family. Anyone you were close to. Wren’s going to track them down and we’ll find some locals we can trust to keep an eye on them.”
Shock makes my stomach pitch. Would Simon really go after my friends? Of course he would. “There aren’t many. A couple of people from my last job at Angel City Financial Services. My college roommate. One woman I’ve known since grade school. And…my mom. But I haven’t talked to her since I graduated high school.”
Six people—plus a former coworker whose last name I can’t remember. The sum total of my life before Simon. How did I let myself get so isolated? I chatted with the regulars at my yoga class. The barista at my local coffee shop—Agnes—knew me by name. But true friends? The kind of friends who know all of your secrets? Who are always there for you? I’m not sure I even had one.
I lean against Wyatt on the couch, Murphy’s head in my lap. Ripper sits ten feet away, and every few minutes, another photo of one of Simon’s top-level generals appears on the giant monitor on the wall.
