“Food’s here!” Graham calls, and the warehouse door bangs shut behind him. He’s laden down with three huge takeout bags and two drink trays. “West got caught at the light. He’ll be here in a minute.”
Doc passes Harlow to Ryker, who lifts her high in the air, then presses a kiss to her belly. “Nap time, baby girl. Go down easy, okay?”
Wren is already halfway to the long table where Graham is unpacking the food. “There better be a strawberry shake in there.”
“Two of them,” the young man says as he slides one of the drink carriers toward her. “And I got you extra pickles.”
“Oh, thank God. I thought the cravings would go away after I gave birth, but now, I think I just really love pickles.”
I don’t think I can eat, but Doc’s stomach has been growling for half an hour, so I follow him to the table. Wren and Ripper carry their food back to the sitting area, and the petite redhead pulls out a laptop. In minutes, the two of them are so buried in geek-speak, I don’t understand a single word.
Ryker, Inara, and Graham join us at the table, everyone but me digging in to their meals in companionable silence. I can’t pull my gaze away from the phone in front of me. Why hasn’t Bastian called? What is he doing to Gladys? Where is he taking her?
Doc nudges a bag of fries closer to me. “Eat something, Natasha. Please.”
“They took Gladys three hours ago. What if they’ve already killed her?” I press my hand to my mouth. If I don’t hear something soon, I’m going to be sick.
“Sergeant, you will eat those french fries. That’s a goddamn order,” Ryker says in a tone I know all too well. The response is automatic, even after eight years. I grab a handful and start to chew.
“That was a low blow,” I mumble through a mouthful of potato.
Ryker nods. “Damn straight. But it worked, didn’t it?” He unwraps a second double cheeseburger. The first one disappeared in under two minutes. “I’ve been where you are, Natasha.” He drops his voice to a whisper. “I almost lost Wren a few years ago. She was taken in Russia, and…”
“Ry, don’t go back there.” West sinks down across from me and snags a chicken sandwich from the pile of food. “When Inara and I got to the safe house outside of St. Petersburg, I don’t think he could have told you our names, he was so wrapped up in how he’d ‘failed’ Wren. Like one man going up against a Russian drug czar with more than thirty goons on his payroll wasevergoing to be a fair fight.”
“Well,” Inara adds, “the three of us, plus Wren, going up against Kolya and his men wasn’t a fair fight either. For Kolya anyway.”
The three share a look—like they can reach each other’s thoughts. It’s scary, but also reassuring.
“The two things you have to do—above all else—are eat and sleep.” West pins me with his steely gaze. “You’ll think it’s impossible. But if you don’t try, when the call comes in and we have to make a plan to get Gladys back, you’ll be compromised. We need you at your best. You’re the most valuable asset in this room.”
I choke on another fry. “I’ve been out for eight years. You’re wrong.”
West sets his sandwich down slowly, picks up a napkin, and wipes his hands. Every movement is deliberate. No energy wasted. And he does it all while staring right at me.
No one else says a word. Even Ryker holds his breath.
“This is what I do, Natasha. It’s what wealldo. You served with Bastian and the others for years. You know how they think. And you might not believe me now, but you know how to get in their heads. So you’ll eat—at least a little—and you’ll sleep when you can. Because soon, Gladys is going to need you. And so will we.”
Doc
After West’s “pep talk,” Natasha managed half a cheeseburger, and we shared a chocolate milkshake. Now, she’s stretched out on one of the sofas with her head in my lap. Her fingers trace patterns on my thigh, though her eyes are closed.
“Got ‘em.” Ripper’s shout wakes the dog napping at his feet. Charlie leaps up in front of his human, paws braced for a fight with a low growl. “Whoa, buddy. Calm down. I’m good.”
The dog plops back down, and Ripper scratches him behind the ears. “A car left the underground garage in Bella’s building at 8:23 a.m. I have the same car entering Boeing Field parking at 9:08. Can’t see who’s in it, but a Gulfstream C-37A took off at 9:53 a.m. bound for Davison Airfield in Fairfax, Virginia. If that’s not them…”
“Shit.” Inara gracefully rises from her cross-legged position on a yoga mat next to the boxing ring. “At average speed, they’d land around…”
“Now,” Rip says. “But there’s no fucking way I can get into the traffic camera network around Davison in time to confirm.”
“Have a little faith.” Wren threads her fingers together, flips her hands palms out, and stretches her arms in front of her. Her knuckles crack one by one. “Let mama work her magic.”
“Magic?” Natasha asks, her voice rough with exhaustion. She pushes up to sitting and rubs her eyes.
Ryker sets a bottle of water on the table next to his wife with a smile. “Rip can track a dollar, ruble, afghani, or yuan through a hundred transactions without breaking a sweat. And he’s a damn good hacker in his own right, but Wren’s the best in the world.”
“Well, I used to be.” Wren stifles a yawn. “Until I spent thirteen weeks so exhausted, I could barely remember my own name. But Harlow cut two teeth yesterday, and I slept five hours last night. I feel like a whole new woman. So let’s see where these wing nuts are going.”
