Lai could sense the end of my patience. Pouting, he shrugged out of the tacky jacket and tossed it into an already overflowing trash can nearby. “Fine. Let’s just climb the fence, scan the yard, and move on.”
That was a refreshing change of pace. I was getting anxious; I hated that feeling, the way it sat in my chest and refused to budge. I couldn’t stomach the idea of Fox spending another night alone. Sitting somewhere cold and silent, wondering if I was coming back.
Wondering if I’d abandoned him.
The thought twisted something deep and unpleasant inside me. I swallowed so hard it hurt.
Lai noticed immediately.
He stepped closer without a word, his hand coming up to rest against my chest. Not forceful, not invasive. Just there, grounding me in touch.
“Hey,” he murmured, meeting my eyes even as I glanced away.
“I know,” I muttered, though I didn’t actually know anything except that I was running out of time, and patience, and options. I shook my head, frustration bleeding through. “It’s my fault. I should’ve—”
His hand moved, two fingers pressing lightly against my lips to cut me off.
“No,” he said, softer now, but no less firm. “We are not doing that right now.”
I stilled.
“We will find him,” Lai continued, holding my gaze until I had no choice but to focus on him, instead of the spiral I was about to fall into. “And when we do, you can apologize to Fox all you want. Maybe cry a little. Make it memorable.”
I let out a quiet, trembling breath that almost passed for a laugh. “And if we don’t?” I asked.
“We will,” Lai said simply. Then, after a beat, his mouth curved into something sharper, too wicked to be called a smile. “I promised Fox I’d learn how to drive. I fully intend to make him regret volunteering.”
That did it. I smiled, leaning into the touch. “Let’s not waste time then.”
And Lai did not. Instead, he turned, hooking his cane handle over the bars of the fence and scaling it with practiced ease, still as nimble as ever. I was always amused by how he groaned when getting up from a couch, but on a job like this, gravity was more of a suggestion. I opened my mouth to tell him to be careful, to remind him that aggravating his injury was a terrible idea, but I already knew he wouldn’t listen, so I followed him up instead, boots hitting the ground with a dull thud as I dropped down beside him.
Lai’s gaze swept across the yard, slow and deliberate, like he was peeling back layers no one else could see. “Look. There, third row from the back.”
I wasn’t a master assassin; I couldn’t see what he could. But I trusted his senses, and I ran. The gravel shifted under my feet as I moved, weaving between cars without really seeing them. My heart was pounding, each step louder than the last.
“Fox!” The name tore out of me before I could stop it.
I couldn’t see him. A black car in the dark was hard to spot.
Then—
A flash.
Headlights.
I closed the distance in seconds, dropping to my knees in front of him, my hands bracing against the cold metal as I pressed my forehead against the edge of his hood. “Fox,” I breathed, my fingers and my voice trembling.
“Al!” Fox was shaking as he leaned back against me. Relief didn’t come gently; it crashed through me, messy and overwhelming and far too close to something I wasn’t ready to name.
“You came,” he said, like he still couldn’t quite believe it.
I let out a breath that might have been a laugh, looking up to reach for the shadow above me. “You doubted me?”
He leaned down closer and pressed his lips to mine, stealing the breath from my lungs.
“Not for a second.”
Chapter Fourteen
