“Sure.”
Blade makes to follow, and Ryder holds up his hand.
“Go and find your wife, soldier. This is a solo conversation.”
If anything, I’m surprised at that. Ryder’s first port of call when returning from a mission is usually his wife. But not this time, and I wonder what’s up.
Blade also appears concerned but knows better than to go against a direct order, and as I follow Ryder, he heads straight for his office.
My heart jackknifes inside me as I recall anything I may have done wrong. I follow orders. I question nothing. I am a machine—a Reaper machine—his machine, so I’m more curious than afraid.
He points to the door.
“Close it behind you.”
As he drops into his leather chair, he reaches for the bottle of whiskey in the top drawer of his desk.
“Fetch two glasses, Razor, we could sure use a few of these right now.”
As I do as he says, he fills the glasses and pushes one my way.
I’m surprised to be here at all. Usually, Snake and Brewer have this honor, and yet for some reason, it’s just the two of us, which raises my guard.
I lean back in my chair, my expression inscrutable, and he heaves a deep breath.
“Sunday.”
I swear every sense I own is on high alert, but to anyone observing, I look no different.
He thumps his fist on the desk.
“She’s missing.”
The blood rushes in my head and I’m about to break something. He lowers his voice.
“She never reported in. That’s not unusual; she sometimes misses the deadline, but it’s been two days. I’ve left the usual cryptic message to call her mom, but the message remains unread.”
My heart is banging so hard I swear he hears it, and he directs a hard gaze my way.
“I need you to head up there. Check out her apartment, scope the area. She hasn’t shown up for work for two days, and there is no sign of life at her apartment. I’m doubtful she’s on vacation because she is aware of the conditions of her new life.”
He’s not wrong. Many of our fallen angels are starting again under our supervision. Sunday is no different and is aware of our concerns. We pay for her new life, and if she ever needs anything or runs into trouble, she only has to pick up the phone.
Ryder is right to be concerned. This isn’t good.
“I’ll leave early hours.”
I’d leave now if I hadn’t drunk a fistful of whiskey.
Ryder nods. “I’ll do some digging here. Get Brewer and Lucy onto it. It may not be anything, but we are aware of Sunday’s past that may have decided to pay her a visit.”
My heart is cold, tension increasing in the room as we face the possibility that despite all our efforts, Sunday is in danger.
Maine was the furthest place to send her, and she had no connections there, and the sleepy town she set up in is not on anyone’s radar.
Fuck, she’s in danger. I know it, and I pull out my phone and hover above her number.
Ryder is watching every move I make, and yet I can’t help myself and press call, doing something I have attempted many times this past nine months and never had the courage to follow through.
