Chapter Sixty-Seven
Raine
The spare burner phone feels heavy in my hand as I cycle through half a dozen different music tracks, searching for something that might settle me. Ocean waves, singing bowls, an instrumental option that I skip because it was playing the first time we kissed…
I pick a low, steady acoustic track and stare at it for a moment until my brain catches up with what’s actually wrong.
There’s no combination of sounds in existence that will fix what’s wrong. Not with Asher locked away in an interrogation room with agents trained to break the strongest operators in the world.
His freedom depends on me.
Setting the phone back on the mantle, I return to the kitchen table. My phone sits beside the laptop, face up. The screen has been dark since 10:57 a.m. Since Asher’s last message to me.
Tessa flagged for intake tonight. They’ll probably pivot once they have me, but call Inara. She’ll get Tessa somewhere safe.
I don’t want to involve anyone else in this mess. But if I’d known—been able to warn Tessa the first time she came to me—she might not have been sent through Coherent Path.
She’s my responsibility. Not only because I was her mentor. Because I’m her friend.
Inara answers on the second ring. “Raine?”
Her voice is warm enough that the hard knot in my stomach loosens a fraction.
“I…need a favor. It’s not small. Or without risk.”
“Asher keeps telling me we’re square, but he needs a lesson on tit for tat. Saving my life means he—and you—get to ask for whatever you need,” she says. “Unless it involves defusing a bomb in a sealed train car. That’s my line in the sand.”
For a moment, I’m not certain I’ve heard her properly, but then she chuckles. “Sorry. Without knowing my history, that probably made no sense. What do you need?”
I grip the coin tighter and do my best to keep my voice level, as if that alone will bring Asher back to me.
“I need eyes on someone I used to work with. Her name is Tessa Hale, and there’s a chance the people after me are going to take her tonight.”
There’s a brief pause on the line before Inara blows out a breath. “Define ‘take.’”
“Remove her from her home and transport her to a site not far from Centralia.”
“And you want me to stop them?” she asks.
My heart rate ticks up a dozen notches. “No. Eyes only. If anyone even looks at you sideways, you get out of there.”
“I can do that.” She listens as I give her Tessa’s address, make and model of her car, and physical description. “Raine?” she asks before I can thank her and end the call. “What aren’t you telling me? Or…what else aren’t you telling me besides who’s after you, Asher, and Tessa?”
I grip the phone tight enough, the tremor returns to my fingers. “Asher…is in trouble. He gave himself up so I could put a stop to something, and there’s a chance I won’t be able to get him back.”
“Well, shit. Did he ever tell you what I do for a living?” She’s all business now, and I catch a hint of an accent. British, I think.
“Kidnap and Ransom work.”
“That’s”—she chuckles—“not the half of it. We’ve expanded. Everything from jungle rescues to stopping international trafficking rings to toppling governments.”
If she’d told me she ran the Space Needle’s Fourth of July fireworks display I’d be less surprised.
“Raine, I don’t know what you’re trying to stop. Nor am I asking. But Hidden Agenda is a family. We protect our own. You and Asher might only be distant cousins at the moment, but that’s good enough for me. If you need help, I’ll be there.”
Tears well in my eyes. “Thank you. I…I might need more help before this is all over. But right now, just let me know if anyone moves on Tessa. And keep enough distance that you can get away clean if it comes to that.”
“I’m a sniper, Raine. Distance is my speciality.”
Asher
The small muscles between my shoulder blades tighten first. The position of the cuffs keeps my forearms suspended with nothing to rest against, and every muscle group from my hips to my shoulders works to compensate.
I flex my fingers to keep them loose, and the chain rattles against the table.
The walls are so pale, the floor polished enough to reflect the relentless glow of the fluorescent lights, that the edges of the room blur into nothing if my focus drifts away from the table, the steel around my wrists, or the scrapes along my knuckles.
Thirst settles in.
“Don’t refuse water. Dehydration is one of the first ways you’ll lose focus.”
Raine’s voice anchors me. If my estimate is even close to correct, it’s approaching one p.m., and GSD is about to realize she has no intention of turning herself in to anyone.
I shift my weight slightly, a fruitless attempt to alleviate some of the pressure on my back. Pain lances through my side. This isn’t the dull ache I’ve managed to ignore the past hour. It’s deeper. Sharp and focused, like something is inside the gash.
Fuck.
There’s still a piece of glass in the wound. I breathe through the worst of the spike and go back to counting my breaths.
Time passes slowly with nothing to orient by. If they follow the playbook, Mark and Chad will return in an hour for another round of “Where’s Raine?”
The ache in my back spreads lower. I focus on the small scratches across the table, the faint shadows my arms throw under the lights, and my breathing.
Eventually, the door opens, and a guard steps into the room carrying a plastic bottle of water. He twists off the cap, then sets it next to my right hand.
It’s cold, and I close my fingers around it carefully. I have to lean forward to drink, the restraints giving me absolutely no slack to move my arm at all.
The guard waits for me to take a second sip, then leaves me alone.
I start counting again, measuring the minutes against the rhythm of my pulse and the mild, but constant tremor in my shoulders.
I hope Raine remembered to eat. I hope she’s sent the first packet. I hope she can get in touch with Northbridge.
I hope I get to see her again.