Protecting the former FBI agent, his girlfriend, and her daughter was the last big case Parker and her partner, Hardison, worked with me. But Connor hasn’t been on the job in months.
Parker offers me a tight smile. “You need to get out more, AJ. Connor has some powerful friends. And he owes you.”
Chapter Sixteen
AJ
“What the hell are you doing here?” I climb aboard the Gulfstream to find Connor Davis sitting in one of the plush, leather seats with a mug of coffee in his hand. It’s a little after three in the morning, and waiting almost six hours to leave Austin nearly killed me. But the private plane the former FBI agent was able to arrange will let us bring Grace back into the country without going through border control.
“Makin’ sure the plane comes home in one piece,” Connor says. “The team out in Seattle tends to destroy the transpos they use. Pritchard would have my ass if he lost his security deposit. It wasn’t…small.”
I cringe. Austin Pritchard, former head of the United States Joint Special Operations Command, started some sort of rogue mercenary group after he got shitcanned from JSOC, and he’s apparently making bank. Chartering a private plane to fly us to Mexico and back ain’t cheap. But it’s the fastest way to Grace. And the safest way to bring her home.
Jasper shoves his duffel bag into one of the storage lockers at the front of the plane before dropping into the seat across from Connor. “What are you doin’ working for Pritchard? And how do I get in on a sweet gig like that? It probably pays a hell of a lot better than…well…the big, fat nothin’ I make now.”
Frowning, I shoot my brother a glance. “I thought the owner of your building was paying you?—”
Jasper’s brows shoot up, stopping my assumption in its tracks. “He was giving me a break on the rent, not paying me, asshole. But if you’d bothered to answer the damn phone once in the past three months, you’d know that I moved in with Emi six weeks ago.”
His words sting, but all I can think about is what Grace has gone through the past three months…the past three years…to steal all her memories away and leave her so close to death.
Parker stows her own gear, as well as the bag she helped me pack for Grace, and finds a seat toward the back of the plane. “Give him a break, Jas. He’s had a hell of a day.”
I appreciate Parker having my back, but Jasper ain’t about to let me off the hook that easy.
Connor leans across the aisle and passes my brother a business card. “Give him a call. It’s not steady work.” He grimaces and pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s in pain. “Not sure that’s what you’re looking for, but it suits me just fine. My head’s still fucked more days than not.”
Six months ago, a couple of dirty cops in Dallas beat Connor within an inch of his life, then dumped him in Flash Flood Alley for a storm to finish him off. Jasper got to him in the nick of time. I never asked how Pritchard knew Jas was close enough to find him, or why the man then called me to check on Connor in the hospital. Pritchard and I only met once, and that was a dozen years ago when he was visiting Bergstrom Air Force Base and took a tour of the Ranger station.
The pilot emerges from the cockpit and scans our small group. “This everyone?” he asks.
Connor nods. “Yup. We’re good to go.”
“It’s a two-hour flight. Vehicles will be waiting for you at the airstrip. I need four-hours’ notice when you want to leave Chihuahua and return to Austin. Understood?”
If the pilot ain’t former military, I’ll eat my Ranger star and my Stetson.
“Copy that,” Connor says. “Won’t be a problem.”
I don’t hear the rest. All I can think about is Grace. My hands clench into fists on my thighs.
Hold on, darlin’. I’m coming.
Grace
The shadows in the corners of the room won’t stop flickering.
I try to tell myself it’s just the old heater stirring the air. It pops and cracks, the vague scent of hot metal always lingering just under the antiseptic.
Every time I move, the stitches in my side itch. I touch the bandages gingerly, then wince at the dull ache.
The nurses are kind. They smile as they check my blood pressure and bring me small meals I think they’ve cooked themselves. But I see the questions in their eyes.
How could she forget her own name?
What is an American woman doing in the middle of nowhere, Mexico?
Is she about to snap?
