Chapter 10
Jade’s tucked against my chest, fingers curled into me, her hair still damp from the shower we shared.
My mind won’t stop spinning. She just told me the only other man who’s ever had her is the piece of shit who put bruises on her face.
Without her saying his name, I knew.
My vision tunnels. Every muscle in my body crackles with tension. She feels it, because she shifts in my arms.
I don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse when my phone lights up on the night stand. I slip out somehow without waking her, drag on my jeans, and take the call in the hallway.
"Go," is all I say to Mako.
"We got big trouble. Truck just found a tracker on Jade’s car which means your location is compromised."
Simultaneously I burn with rage as my muscles are coated with ice.
"How the fuck? I checked."
"Found it in a full sweep. This one would have been easy to miss. Military grade, which is a whole other issue. It was tucked up behind the rear quarter panel. It’s been pinging a server every ninety seconds since before you walked into that donut shop."
I drove her car to the safe house. Right the fuck here with a live beacon on the frame.
I checked the underside in that parking lot.
"Fuck. FUCK!"
"Her belongings are being destroyed as we speak. Car, suitcase, everything that was in it. The only thing left is whatever you carried in yourself."
"Her phone has been already disabled," I reply, my vocal cords strained from the muscles in my neck clenching. "The house is clean. We’d know if anything came in."
"You need to move her now. I’ve alerted Luke. He’s expecting you at secure location seven."
"What’s Trevor’s position?"
"That’s the other problem. He’s gone dark. We’ve got nothing. No cameras, no phone pings, no credit card activity since yesterday afternoon. He dropped off the grid."
A sighting I can work with. A ghost is far worse.
"He knows we’ll find the tracker," I say, my fist clenching. "He’s expecting us to run."
"That’s my read too. My bet is he has someone watching and we don’t have the manpower to sweep every square inch of that county."
"And we have limited routes," I mutter, scrubbing my hand through my hair.
"Three options."
"He could have coverage on three."
"Yeah. That’s why I’m sending backup. Thane Hotchkins is in the area. Agile just brought him on board."
Thane? I stop moving for a second. "Hotch? You got Hotchkins?"
Mako chuckles, pleased. "He’s been freelancing since he left the Teams. Agile’s owners been trying to recruit him for months. He signed on yesterday. Timing’s either lucky or divine intervention."
Hot Shot Hotchkins. One of the most lethal operators I’ve ever worked with. Quiet. Patient. A walking fucking mystery, but the kind of guy who’d sit in a bush for seventy-two hours waiting for one shot. If I had to pick a man to have on overwatch right now, it’d be him.
"Where is he?"
"En route from Portland. ETA ninety minutes. I can have him intercept you if you wait."
Ninety minutes. With a compromised location and Trevor in the wind. The house is safe, but any move after is the problem.
"I can’t sit here for ninety minutes, man. If they’re watching the house, every second I stay is a second they’re setting up for an intercept."
"Copy. Then move now and I’ll redirect Thane to location seven. He’ll be there before you arrive and may intercept on the way."
"Do it."
"Ryker, I went deeper on the dark web link. The cached auction pages, especially the event section had more critical information. The next live event is scheduled within the week."
I lean my head against the wall, murderous fire burning through me. "You think she’s the target?"
"I think she’s been the target since she found those files. Trevor wasn’t scouting at the donut shop. He was on a timeline. Probably just let her go today because he enjoys fucking with her head."
"Jesus Christ."
"Stay sharp. Hotchkins will find him or block him if he comes close. But he has to get there first. You’re a killing machine, but we know what having your woman with you does…"
Yeah. I do. Now I do. I’ve watched the team fall, one after another and it’s not supposed to happen to me.
But goddammit, it is.
It has.
"Like I said, stay sharp, brother," Mako rumbles.
With that warning he disconnects, leaving me reeling.
I stand in the hallway, forcing the operator to take over. Compartmentalize. Move.
First stop is the supply closet. I raid the clothing. Medium sweats and sweatshirt are the smallest items that have been stocked for unexpected stays.
Vision hazed in red, I shoulder back into the room. The second hands of a clock are beating inside my head, a snare drum.
Jade stirs when the light from the hall cuts across the bed.
"Ryker?" She sits up, instantly reads my face, her grogginess evaporating in a split-second. "What’s wrong?"
"Get dressed. Wear these. We’re leaving."
Jade’s off the bed and pulling on the clothes I hand her. The choppy sound of her breathing and tremor in her hands as she works is plenty indication she’s scared.
I grab my gear. Pack my laptop, turn to find her staring at me as she pulls her hair free of the sweatshirt.
"What’s happening?"
Fuck. Here it is. This has to be dealt with head on.
"They found a GPS tracker on your car. It’s been transmitting since before I met you. I missed it. This location is compromised."
There should be shock in her expression, instead there’s an alarming resignation.
"He planted a bug on my car…"
"Yes. And possibly in your belongings too, but it’s all been destroyed now. Car, suitcase, all of it."
She stares at me. Slowly registering what I’ve just said. "Everything’s gone?"
"I’m sorry, Jade. I’ll replace it all."
Her throat works as she processes that. Her emotions come quickly. Cycling through shock, grief, a flash of anger that she buries fast.
She’s programmed that way because she’s spent a lifetime burying things.
It makes me furious all over again.
The car, the clothing, the suitcase are only things, but I know she bought those with her own money, without someone compressing her under their thumb.
All she had was a shitty beater sedan and one suitcase. That was her entire life after running from Texas. And it’s gone.
I scrub a hand over my face and scan the room for anything else we need. When I spot my jacket folded over the desk chair, I remember the frog.
"Sweetheart." I pull the stuffed animal from my pocket. "I checked this for bugs when we arrived. It’s safe. I brought it in from the car when we got here."
The scrunch of her nose takes my breath. She’s fighting tears. There’s a red-hot knife in my throat as I drag her into my arms, telling myself to be easy when I want to crush her. To shield her.
"Thank you. It’s a stupid toy, but…" A sniffle follows, driving that knife deeper.
"You don’t have to explain. I’m just glad I grabbed it."
"Me too." She clutches it to her chest. Draws a big breath, and pulls away as she stands taller. "Okay. Let’s go."
God. This woman.
The Agile SUV is already idling in the drive, swept and clean. I buckle her in, scan the perimeter, and pull out fast, wanting as much distance between this house and Jade as possible.
After passing through the small, rural town, we hit empty roads. Dense Oregon timber presses in from both sides with the headlights cutting a narrow tunnel through the dawn light.
Wired, running on adrenaline, I check the mirrors every thirty seconds. Nothing behind us.
If the team wasn’t deploying, I’d have another car following, but we’re tight and waiting isn’t an option.
Jade holds the frog in her lap, working her fingers against the fuzzy material as she looks out the window. Too quiet.
"You processing?" I ask, knowing it can help to go over the details when you’ve been punched in the face with news like she just got.
"I am. You said you checked the car, but missed it. How did he hide the tracker?"
"My quick visual in the parking lot wasn’t enough. Took a full sweep with electronics. It wasn’t a sophisticated device, but it was in an unusual area. Still, I fucked up. Endangered you."
She turns toward me, that frog clenched tighter. "Ryker, you weren’t exactly working in ideal conditions. A lot was going on."
I slipped. Fucked up. Didn’t take the threat serious enough.
"Doesn’t matter, what matters is I failed."
"That you tried matters to me."
I don’t respond. Can’t accept my incompetence. A half-assed sweep with a live tracker inches from where I looked—that’s going to be a scar I carry for a long time.
With a dismissive sound, her hand slowly reaches over, takes up space on my thigh. Stays there, warm and gentle, a reminder that she’s vulnerable and I fucked up on keeping her safe.
"I need to know. All of it."
I glance at her. She’s looking straight ahead. Jaw set.
She’s right. She needs to understand what they’re dealing with.
"I know it’s bad," she prompts when I can’t unglue my tongue from the roof of my mouth. "I’ve known it was bad since I found those files. I just didn’t know the scope of it."
I adjust my grip on the wheel. Check the mirrors. Nothing behind us. Nothing ahead but pre-dawn light on the mountain road and miles of timber.
Don’t let your guard down.
"Every name on your father’s list is a confirmed missing person.
Twelve names across at least three states.
All within the last two years. Every case was closed early.
Runaways, voluntary disappearances, dead-end investigations.
Every single closure traces back to jurisdictions where your father has influence. "
"His buddies," she whispers. "Other sheriffs. Guys he hunts and drinks with."
"Yes."
Her fingers flinch against my thigh. "Is there more?"
"One body’s been recovered. A twenty-four-year-old male out of Georgia. Dumped in a rural area, not killed where he was found. Gunshot listed as cause of death. But the other injuries were extensive. Not consistent with torture. Not consistent with anything standard."
"Then what?" she asks, tone strained.
I take the next switchback, our headlights swinging across a wall of old growth. "His injuries were consistent with someone who’d been running through rough terrain for a long time, possibly while being chased."
The engine roars as I take the next straightaway.
"That sounds like he was hunted," she says, words laced with disgust.
"Yes, it does."
Her breathing changes. Shorter. Shallower. Nails begin to dig into my thigh.
"There’s more," I admit. The worst is to come and I hate it for her.