Like I have several times already, I go over to the bathroom door and knock on it, then call, “You okay in there?”
The water shuts off. A second later, Noelle replies with a hint of amusement, “I’m okay, Webb. You don’t have to keep checking.”
I’m glad to hear the humor in her voice. It’s far better than the flat tone she had in the car, or the cracked, wobbly one in the diner. This sounds more like the Noelle I know.
“Until I see you with my own eyes, I’m going to keep asking,” I tell her. “Or I could sit in the bathroom, if you’d prefer.”
A second passes. “No, that’s okay. I’ll be out in a few minutes, anyway. So you won’t need to check again.”
“Okay,” I reply. “But if you’re not out in ten minutes, I’ll be back.”
As I walk away from the bathroom, I think I catch a soft snort from inside. She might think I’m being overbearing, overprotective, or both, but if it makes her laugh, I’m okay with it. Besides, it’s pretty clear my instincts about Noelle being in some kind of trouble were on point, which means she needs someone who’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.
Crossing the apartment—and shit, is it small, six large steps and I’m from one side to the other—I enter the small kitchen and open the fridge. I spot a jug of mango peach juice, a carton of almond milk, several bottles of water, and a bottle of Pinot Grigio chilling in the back. Sticking with my mom’s advice, I grab the juice and bring it over to the counter, then set it down while I search the cabinets for glasses.
Once I have two glasses filled with juice, I return the jug to the fridge and take out my phone. Pulling up Tyler’s name in my messaging app, I shoot off a text.
Hey, I might need your help. Pretty sure someone’s messing with Noelle and I may need you to look into it.
Tyler’s our resident computer genius, so if there’s something to be found online, I’m confident he will.
A few seconds later, Tyler’s text appears on my screen.
Is she okay? What happened at the diner? Do you need backup?
I’d been helping Tyler with a security check at HQ when Doug called, so Tyler knows the basics of the story—incident at the diner, Noelle’s okay but really upset—but not the details. So I send a recap of what happened.
Someone hacked into the TVs at the diner. They played a video of Noelle changing. She hasn’t told me much yet, but I’mpretty damn sure she didn’t know she was being recorded. She dropped her tray and cut her hand on some glass. I brought her home and now she’s in the shower. I’m going to try to get her to talk once she’s out.
Three dots appear and disappear several times as Tyler types his response.
Shit. That’s fucked up. They hacked into the TVs? Do you know what kind the diner has? Wi-Fi hookup? Router? Do they use cable or streaming?
I shake my head as I respond to his message.
I don’t know yet. Noelle was really upset. I didn’t want to push and make it worse.
Tyler’s next text comes more quickly this time.
Of course. Let me know when you find out more. I’ll loop the guys in too, just in case. Do you need Indy to come over to look at her hand?
Indy’s our resident medic, and if I’d brought Noelle back to B and A instead of her apartment, I probably would have asked him to check on her. But the logistics of having him come over here for what appear to be a couple superficial injuries, and especially with Noelle being so fragile right now…
I cast a quick glance towards the closed bathroom door before I answer his question.
I don’t think it’s necessary. But I’ll take another look at her hand once she’s out of the shower. If it looks like she needs to see Indy, I’ll call him.
A few seconds pass before Tyler replies.
No problem. Anything you need, I’m here.
Though he can’t see me, I nod before sending my response.
Will do. Thanks.
Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I allow myself a small smile.
This is one of the reasons I agreed to join Blade and Arrow when Cole asked. I wanted to help people, of course, and I was ready for a new adventure, but a big part of it came from wanting to be part of a team again. Having a band of brothers—and sisters, if I count Nora and Rhiannon, from the Alpha and Bravo teams—who would have my back, just as I would have theirs.
