Chapter Twenty-Six
Luke
I’ve just pulled us out of the Airbnb aka the makeshift safehouse, driveway and onto the highway when Ana asks, “What was that with you and Parker back there?”
I glance in the mirror checking for trouble and then cast her a quick side-eye. “He disagreed on every point and then spewed that bullshit ‘Kurt wasn’t dirty’ thing, as if he was a guy Kurt confided in.” I lift my fingers on one side of the steering wheel. “It rubbed me wrong.” Really wrong, I think, and I’m not sure why. “So, I’m the number one killer, huh?” I tease.
“I’d apologize or defend my comment, but you know very well that was more about who’s more skilled and as your ex-fiancée, present,” she pauses for consideration, before supplying, “girlfriend, I will vehemently defend your honor. You’re the best.”
The term “girlfriend” sits as wrong as Parker’s pussy routine back at the house. In the past he kept his mouth shut and apparently, I liked him better that way. I shove aside Parker, fairly done with the topic, and reply with, “Actually, Savage is a badass. Be glad he’s with us. He’s a surgeon. As in an actual, gifted surgeon.”
She blinks. “Really? Savage?”
“Really. Skilled enough to be a renowned surgeon had he chosen to be, but apparently shit happened and he ended up here.”
“Ah yes. The shit. It so happens.” She shifts to lean on the door, her long blonde hair draped over her shoulder, those sparkling green eyes latched onto me. Her here, by my side again, really by my side, and this—us—talking, is about as surreal as it gets. “Let me get this straight,” she ponders thoughtfully. “You’re a pilot, he’s a surgeon, and Adam’s a SEAL?”
“And a master of disguise. I know it’s hard to believe because Adam’s so damn big, but that man can blend in anywhere, in the craziest of ways. Old lady, janitor, food delivery person, you name it.”
“Does he take special requests?”
“No, but I do,” I tease.
“Yes, you do,” she agrees, “but only when the word ‘please’ is used repeatedly.” Her brows furrow with her shift back to the problems at hand. “You’d think these people, whoever they are, would think twice about coming at this group.”
“They took down Kurt, the ultimate beast, with droves of loyal, highly trained students and ex-students. They aren’t afraid of us.”
“Who is that fearless?” she asks, and at the same time we both say, “The government.”
“Or someone with government resources,” I add. “It does feel as if this could have something to do with Kurt’s government for-hire work.”
“Someone in the government at least knows about his final mission,” she says. “Otherwise they couldn’t have cleaned it up. And they sent me his body. Does Walker Security have anyone inside the government that could find out for us? I feel like if we knew about that mission, we’d know everything.”
“I’ll talk to Blake,” I promise, pulling us into the parking lot of the field office, one small office building among five standalone structures, and note the black SUV parked near the door. “Who is that?”
“My boss,” Ana says, sitting up straighter. “They must have found Darius’s body. I suspect our team will be here soon. Man down means all men on deck. You can’t come in with me, but I’ll be fine. Just park by the door and do the boyfriend routine if needed. I’ll get in, find out what’s going on, and get out.”
I pull into a spot and she’s already popping open her door. I catch her arm. “Remember my gut feelings?”
“Very well. Why?”
“I don’t like this.”
“That’s called intelligence, not gut feelings. I don’t either, but we both know I have to do it. You know I can take care of myself.”
This side of Ana, the side who stands up to challenge and refuses to fail, is Ana at her best, and one hundred percent the woman I fell in love with. This is also the side of Ana that I find frustrating as fuck. “I know you’re skilled, Ana, but we just talked about this. These people are also skilled and likely connected to the government.”
“Thankfully you’re right here. I’ll be quick. I’ll be careful. I will come back. I promise.” She scoots closer and leans in to kiss me. I cup her face, and drag her mouth to mine, drinking in a sweet taste of her. “Fifteen minutes and then I will find a way to come in.”
She smiles and says, “My hero,” something she used to call me often and I thought I’d never hear again from those beautiful lips of hers.
She shifts, intending to move away, and I capture her arm. “I really like don’t like the whole ‘girlfriend’ thing.”
Her eyes soften and she touches my jaw, with her delicate little fingers and says, “I do. To me, it’s the first glimpse of the sunshine rising about the stormy horizon. It works until you make an honest woman of me. I’ll be right back.”
“I’m moving to the next building, away from the door. If anyone shows up, I don’t want them asking me questions.”
She nods, and this time when she moves, I let her go, but I don’t feel good about it. Not even a little. I watch her punch a code into a keypad and enter the building. Once the door is shut behind her, I shift into gear and drive to the next building. It’s close, one of those clustered complexes which doesn’t seem smart for the FBI, but that’s their business. I park with a direct view of the door Ana entered and should exit soon.
Ironically timed, the sun splays a golden glow of fingers toward the rooftops, but all I see is the blood splattered all over Ana. It wasn’t hers and I’m going to keep it that way. Another car pulls up and I watch a guy named Steve Murphy get out and walk to the door. Steve’s a seasoned FBI agent who isn’t acting like one right now. He never looks around, never offers even a cursory glance toward the parking lot. He ignores his surroundings, rushes to the door of the building, and disappears inside.
There’s a knock on my window and I glance up to find Adam standing there. I unlock the door and he climbs inside, hauling two Starbucks cups along for the ride.
I arch a brow. “Starbucks?”
“This is your excuse to go check on her if she takes too long. The boyfriend is bringing her coffee.”
My teeth grind.
Boyfriend.
Fuck me, I need to marry her already.
“Not a bad idea,” I approve, accepting the cup.
“It’s a vanilla latte,” he says. “Sorry, man. I have no clue what espresso beverage you prefer.”
“A hot one that can burn the fuck out of anyone who touches Ana,” I reply, “or better yet, I’ll just shoot somebody.”
Another car pulls up, and a guy I don’t know pretty much repeats Murphy’s sins, ignores his surroundings, and enters the building. “I guess when they say Sunday is the day of rest, these FBI agents took it to heart. Any idea why they’re here?”
“Blake says there’s no report of Darius’s body being found at all, but his house was shot up, the FBI thinks he was attacked and assumed hiding out. But now he’s cut off communications. They’re likely looking for him.”
“Let’s hope that’s all it is.”
“Another piece of news: Trevor’s dead, man. I didn’t ask details, I didn’t have time, but Blake said he’s calling it a solid conclusion.”
There was a time when I wouldn’t trust anyone’s solid conclusions. Then I joined Walker Security, and I was delivered a new perspective. Trevor is dead. So, if he didn’t take that package, who did?