“Where are you?” he asked by way of greeting.
She didn’t care for his tense tone. “In my car.”
“You better be on your way back here.” He sounded like her dad when he’d caught her out after curfew.
She resisted sighing. “Why?”
“Harris had a question about your investigation, so she came looking for you. She was less than pleased that you weren’t here prepping for the meeting.”
“Did you tell her I had a new lead?”
“Yeah, and she still wasn’t pleased.”
Addy tightened her grip on the mug. “She’ll be fine once I tell her what I learned.”
“Your lead panned out?”
“Did it ever.” She smiled, but as she thought about her next step, it vanished, and her stomach knotted. “I just have to make a phone call to get the final details and I’ll be on my way back.”
“Make it quick. You only have an hour until the meeting.”
“Don’t worry. I have this.” She hung up and wished she believed what she’d just told him. In order to get the final details, she had to call Mack for the RED team’s help. She could call Cam, the team analyst, directly. After all, he would be the one to do the work, but somehow she thought Mack should know that she was communicating with the team and asking for a favor.
She tapped his name on her phone. She hadn’t talked to him in months, and she had no idea how he would feel about her calling. She took a sip of the warm coffee while the phone rang and watched the wind whip through brown ornamental grasses with tall seed heads flowing in the breeze. She remembered so many walks in the park with Mack while they’d admired a similar landscape near the RED team’s office. At first getting to know each other, then just enjoying each other’s company.
He kept things bottled up and was a hard guy to get to open up. Turns out he didn’t open up. Not fully. And they’d been married before she learned of his issues with PTSD, which stemmed from his deployments as an Army Night Stalker, an elite aviation regiment known for their proficiency in nighttime operations. He frequently piloted missile drones that took out high-value targets, but sometimes innocent people died too, and he carried a lot of guilt over that. Addy wanted to help him, but she couldn’t. He had to handle this on his own. But he wouldn’t stay with her. He refused to subject her to hisdangerous flashbacks after he’d once tried to strangle her in the night.
She touched her throat. Remembered the strength in those hands. Her air cut off. She’d punched him in the face. Brought him back to reality just in the nick of time. And he’d been shattered. Remorseful. Broken. She couldn’t stand to see him that way. It hurt to her core.
His recorded voice came over the phone. “This is Mack. You know the drill.”
Voicemail. Sigh.The deep tenor of his voice and his smooth Southern accent wrapped around her, easing out her disappointment at getting the message. The beep sounded. She hesitated. For only a second.
“Mack, it’s Addy.” She tried to keep her emotions out of her tone. “I need a favor from the RED team—Cam especially—for an investigation I’m working. It’s a big one. One that means saving countless lives. Can you call me back ASAP to discuss? Thanks.”
She put her phone in the dash holder, not surprised her heart was beating hard. Her heart always thrilled at the mere sound of his voice. She loved this man. How she loved him, and if it had been up to her, they would still be together while he worked through his issues.
A car door slammed shut, jerking her back to the present. She couldn’t sit there daydreaming over the past. She had a gunrunner to catch, and an irritated boss to pacify.
She started the car, headed out of the lot and onto the winding road. Miles rolled under the wheels until she started to feel drowsy. Beyond drowsy. Confused.
The road blurred ahead. She held on to the wheel, but her fingers couldn’t grasp it, and she crossed into the wrong lane. A truck came at her. Big. A semi. Lights cutting into her eyes.
Oh, well.No problem. Life was good. She relaxed.
The driver laid on the horn. She blinked hard. Tried to focus.
She jerked the wheel. Her muscles responded as if they were made of elastic, but she got back into the correct lane.
What was going on?
Seeing a sharp curve ahead, she tried to lift her foot from the gas. Her leg was a wet noodle. It wouldn’t move. She tugged hard, lifted it, and thumped on the brakes. Failed to activate them.
The car plunged off the road. Down the embankment. Hit a tree. Metal rent. Groaned and complained. Her rag-doll-limp body fell forward. Her head crashed into the steering wheel.
Blinding pain radiated through her skull. She fell back against the seat.
She opened her eyes but couldn’t see. Blackness surrounded her brain. The darkness calling. Rest. Sleep.
