Bastian continues, oblivious to the former Navy SEAL—and everyone else—listening in. “Doherty, Collins, and I had eleven months left to hit our twenty years. Eleven months till we’d be able to draw our pensions. Senator Norton had jobs lined up for us that would let us keep the operation going without risking our lives every fucking day. All that’s gone now. We’re war criminals. Unless you recant your testimony.”
“You have got to be kidding me. No one is going to believe Imade the whole thing up. You’re fucking delusional.”
“They will. Not only that, you’ll take responsibility for the entire operation. It was so much bigger than anyone ever knew.”
I scoff, but Bastian’s grinning like he just won the lottery. My stomach twists into a knot, and I squeeze Doc’s hand harder.
“The doctor will surrender himself to a location of my choosing, while you will report to CID. You’ll give them details I kept secret for years. Verifiable information you could only have if you were the mastermind of the entire operation. You’ll cop to everything. The murders of the family outside of Albaghdadiandso many more. Once you’re arrested, we’ll let the old lady go.”
“I’ma lady,” Gladys snaps. “I’m notold.”
“Shutup!”someone—Collins, I think—says. “Can I gag her?”
Bastian nods once, and the sounds of soft scuffling come from just out of camera range. I squeeze my eyes shut to stop my tears from falling.
“You have twenty-four hours, Natasha. But don’t worry. I’ve made all your travel plans for you.”
My phone dings with a notification from Air Northwest. Two tickets on a red-eye flight out of Sea-Tac for 9:00 p.m. A second later, another message arrives with the subject line,“For your reading pleasure.”
Bastian stares daggers at me through the screen. “If you don’t get on that plane, your friend dies. If anyone besides the doctor boards with you, she dies. If you try to contact the authorities?—”
“She dies. I get the idea.” I wish I could see West. Or Ryker. Or even Raelynn or Inara. I need to know there’s a plan. But I can’t. I have to keep my focus on the man who wants to take the only good things left in my life. “I want to talk to Gladys as soon as I get off the plane. And again before I walk into CID. Non-negotiable.”
“Fair enough. Make sure you memorize everything in that file I sent you. See you soon, Sergeant.”
The screen goes dark. West grabs my phone and shoves it into a shiny gray pouch. The loss of it sends my heart into overdrive.
“I need that! Gladys…”
“That fucker found a villain handbook in his box of Cracker Jacks this morning.” West shakes his head and tosses the bag to Ripper. “Until we know the file he sent you isn’t infected with malware, the phone stays in there. Wren’s monitoring your number. If he calls again, it’ll ring through to Doc’s phone.”
“Take it, baby.” Doc presses his phone into my hand. Holding the device makes me feel marginally better. Until I realize we only have six hours until we have to be on a plane to D.C. And none of Hidden Agenda can go with us.
“I have the plane’s manifest,” Wren says. “It’ll take me an hour—maybe two—before I know which tickets were sold in the last few days. He put all this together after he sent Parker to kill you. We need to know how many hostiles we’re dealing with.”
A long list of names appears on the biggest flatscreen monitor. It takes me only seconds to zero in on one name in particular. “Ben Kerr.”
“Who?” West asks.
A single tear tumbles down my cheek. “The night my brother was killed, he was one of the MPs assigned to protect me. I’d gone out for a run. Ciprian—I think his first name was Thom—went with me. Kerr stayed behind.” I turn to Ryker. “Logan was Special Forces. I could never understand how Parker got the drop on him. He was too good. But now I get it. Kerr let him in.”
Doc
Someone—Raelynn, I think—went to the apartment and returned with…everything. My medical kit. Passports. Clothes for both of us. Natasha refused to look at any of it. She’s spent the past three hours memorizing all the dates, times, and placesin Bastian’s file. Ryker taught her some of his memory tricks, and he’s currently quizzing her. I can’t listen any longer. The sick fuck killed dozens over the years. Assaulted even more.
I shower, letting the hot water ease my sore muscles. We have a plan—of sorts. But so much of it depends on luck. Or on Bastian not counting on Hidden Agenda.
I wish Natasha and I had a few hours together somewhere private. I’d make sure she slept. Even if I had to wring multiple climaxes from her body to exhaust her. Instead, I dry myself off alone, wrap a towel around my waist, and shuffle out to the lockers.
“Doc, I’ll check those stitches for you.” West sits on one of the long benches, his field kit spread out in front of him.
“They’re fine.”
The former SEAL’s brows shoot up. “That wasn’t a question. Sit your ass down.”
I don’t work for the man, but more than once, Raelynn’s told me that “no one fucks with the SEAL,” and I can see why. When he’s on mission—and though we haven’t left the warehouse, we are very much “on mission”—his icy blue eyes hold almost no emotion. He’s so clearly in control, it’s scary.
So I do as he says.
