Chapter Sixteen Alejandro
Chapter Sixteen
Alejandro
“Here. Wear something of mine.” Reed rummaged through his bag, pulling out a long-sleeved black shirt. He gestured for me to lift my arms.
“And what, exactly, do you think you’re doing? I’m injured, not dead. I’ll put my own shirt on, thanks.”
He rolled his eyes and shoved the shirt at my chest.
“You could use the help.” Audrey morphed into mom mode, not a woman potentially being hunted down by her psychotic ex-husband.
And yeah, I’d be referring to that prick in the past tense. He was not still her husband. Screw the law.
“You’re not dressing me, either.” I bit down on my back teeth and put on my shirt, refusing to let anyone help me.
It honestly wasn’t that bad anymore. I was lightheaded and in some pain, but I’d dealt with worse.
“He’s stubborn.” Reed waved me off as I pulled the shirt over my head. “Let him be.”
I brought the shirt to my nose and sniffed it. “Why does this smell like you?”
Reed leaned forward. “Probably not washed yet.” He stood tall again, then jerked his thumb toward the door.
“Places to be, I know,” I grunted in response to his quiet gesture to focus.
She gently patted my arm. “You smell good, by the way.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Pretty sure that’s my cologne you’re smelling,” Reed said as we left his room. “Unless you’re talking about blood,” he added, stealing a look at her over his shoulder. “Then that’s all him.”
I huffed out a low breath of irritation. “Told you he’s better with dogs than people.”
“The humor stuff while on a mission . . . that the norm for you guys?” She smiled.
“I think it’s a requirement in the military. They’ll boot you if your humor isn’t on point,” Reed tossed out casually as we neared Trevor’s office.
“Then you’d have been kicked out long ago,” I shot back. “He’s not remotely funny, trust me.”
“He’s kind of right.” Reed went for the door handle, then asked her, “You ready?”
“No.” She frowned. “But let’s go in anyway.”
He nodded and opened up, and I stayed close to her as we walked in together. I was able to breathe easier now that our subject wasn’t in the room, just Ryder.
“Tied him up and relocated him for now,” he let us know. “I didn’t want him in earshot for our call with Secretary Chandler. Trevor reached out to Gray and told him we were hit. Gray put in an emergency text to his father. He’s about to call now.” His gaze cut down to my side. “You all good?”
Reed shut the door. “He could probably use antibiotics and a juice box, but he’ll live.”
“I can grab you one of Chase’s apple juices. And I think I saw a pill bottle in your medkit.” Audrey started to move, but I secured a gentle hold of her wrist, stopping her.
“You’re not leaving my sight. I’ll get something soon, don’t worry.” I gestured to the second chair, the one left empty during the interrogation. “Why don’t you sit?”
“You sit.” She stared me down, making it clear she wouldn’t take no for an answer.
I probably caved faster than Chase would’ve. With a sigh, I dropped into the chair and glanced up at the ceiling. “How’s the property looking?”
“Still locked down,” Reed replied as Audrey leaned against the bookshelf, arms folded tight across her chest.
“What do you make of the text?” Ryder asked her.
“‘Hell’ was Mitch’s signature. His brand.” She shrugged, a motion that probably took more effort than she let on.
“Doesn’t mean it’s actually from him,” Ryder said while checking his phone. “We’ve got incoming from the secretary.”
My body tensed, bracing for the worst though I was desperate for something else.
“We’re all here, sir.” Ryder placed him on speaker. “Audrey, Mitch’s ex-wife, is on the line, too.”
“I also learned she’s your sister,” Chandler responded in a low voice. “What I’m curious about is, why I never knew she was family before now?”
“I, uh, only found out she existed at Christmas,” Ryder faltered.
There was a note of vulnerability in his voice I wasn’t used to hearing.
“I’m guessing Gray shared that with you before this call, but if you’re bringing that up because you’re about to tell me to stand down given our relationship, then—”
“Let’s table that conversation for later,” Chandler said, cutting him off. “First, walk me through what happened.”
Ryder opened his eyes, exhaling. “How much do you already know?”
“Gray briefed me that Audrey’s home was broken into Friday. Today, Trevor Sloane’s place was attacked. Fortunately, you were all there. You held the fort and the attackers retreated.”
My gaze drifted to the bloodstained chair next to me as Ryder shared, “We took one alive. He claims he’s military. He could be lying to keep us from killing him. We’ll upload his photo for ID, along with pictures of the bodies we dropped. But the guy told us who allegedly sent the team and why.”
“Unless he’s lying about that, too,” Reed mumbled beneath the hand parked across his mouth.
“He said it was Mitch Langston; then we got a text from someone claiming to be Mitch as well,” Ryder went on, his voice wavering.
“That’s not possible.” Static crackled over the line, followed by a long, strained breath from the secretary.
“Yeah, dead people don’t text,” I growled out in a low hiss.
“No, that’s not it.” Another pause from Chandler, followed by another deep breath.
My legs were weak, but I forced myself to stand, and Audrey immediately came over to me for an assist. “I’m fine,” I mouthed, though my balance said otherwise. She didn’t seem to buy it and stayed at my side, hovering like she could catch all two hundred and five pounds of me.
“What aren’t you telling us?” Ryder asked as his gaze met mine, and I felt it coming. We both did. The storm. The tsunami on the horizon.
“He can’t be alive,” Chandler remarked in a steady tone. “No way he’s behind this. I know that because I was part of the team that helped fake his death last year. But on his way to the safe house, he was killed.” He gave us a what-the-hell moment of silence before continuing, “For real that time.”