“There’s a problem, Ian.”
“Yeah, she’s missing.”
“She’s pregnant.”
“How long has she known?” Ian’s eyes were no longer slits.
“She doesn’t know. I wanted to talk to a specialist first. It's early on, and there are a lot of medical issues. I wanted to have as much information as possible before I spoke with her.”
“The vomiting is morning sickness?”
“It’s more than that. Cassie has morning sickness gone haywire. The temperature is dangerous for healthy folks. Heatstroke can hit hard and fast. She’s malnourished and underweight, and she dehydrates quickly. She took the bottle of the anti-nausea meds, but only a few tablets. That will get her through the morning. Throwing up and sweating will dehydrate her, and worse, her electrolytes will become unbalanced. That is a life-threatening issue. Under perfect circumstances, this pregnancy is a big strain. With her underlying condition, my colleague said it might not be viable. She may—”
“How long?” Ian asked.
“Short window. A week at best if she can get some fluids to stay down. If the symptoms return full force and she stays exposed to the heat, maybe forty-eight hours.”
Kieran joined them on the patio. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but this cannot wait.” He looked between his brother and the doctor. “What did I miss?”
“Let me hear what you have,” Ian said.
* * *
“Iassume she’s going after Whitman. I’m checking all holdings in the Whitman, Marshall, and Bynum names. I’ll arrange for someone to pick up Kevin Tyler and Burt Marshall. We will find her. We’re trying, Ian.”
“Damn it, Kier—try harder,” he begged.
“Mia is downstairs dressing down the two guys on Sucov.”
“And what about her conversation with Sucov?”
“Noah translated it. She’s good, but the story isn’t.”
As Ian watched the video, the adrenaline rush quickly mitigated the sedation. His mouth went dry. The petite woman on screen was intimidating. Focused. Determined. Lethal. Yates’s chameleon.
Kieran cued up the exterior camera feed. The last view was of Cassie with tear-stained eyes staring up at their bedroom window, her expression filled with heartache and love.
“Check every ATM and traffic cam in the area. We need to find which way she headed.” Ian’s brain was clearing.
“Hunt, how impaired is my brother?”
Ian glared at Kieran for asking.
“Anyone else, and I’d say impaired until 2100 hours tomorrow. These drugs impair judgment. Ian, let Kieran run this—and no guns,” Hunter said.
Ian ran a shaking hand through his hair. “Guess we better bring you up to speed.”
“How did that happen?” Kieran asked.
Ian remembered falling asleep inside her and the few minutes of unprotected activity against the wall. “I put her in this danger.”
“How doesn’t matter anymore. What happens now is our problem,” Hunter said. “We need to find her fast.”
* * *
Cassie, wearing a baseball cap she found in the Jeep, pulled into a fast-food drive-through and ordered a Sprite and small fries. Getting back on the road, she headed for DC. Her stomach rolled, but deep breaths, a few sips of soda, and the salty fries helped. The air-conditioning did not work in the stolen Jeep. Even with the windows open, there was no breeze, and sweat soaked her skin. She pointed the car toward Ellis Art Finds.
“Dr. Ellis, it’s you. You’re alive,” a familiar security guard said.
