Chapter Eighty-Nine
Raine
Siren Coffee has a drive-thru line six cars deep.
I pull Asher’s sedan around the back. The dark SUV with the plate number Inara texted me a few minutes ago is already there.
A woman leans against the passenger side, arms loose, gaze scanning the street, while the man next to her looks like he was built to walk into burning buildings with no gear and emerge unscathed.
The woman straightens when I get out of the car. Shorter than me. Dark hair with gray threaded through it. Brown eyes that take me in completely in under two seconds and don’t look away.
“Natasha,” she says.
“Raine.”
The man extends a hand. “Doc.”
Panic crashes over me, and I take a step back. My heel finds the edge of a pothole and the stumble gives the panic somewhere to land.
When I find my footing, I force myself to meet his gaze. “I don’t…touch. Only Asher.”
Doc nods, his hands sinking into his pockets without a word.
The large truck at the drive-thru window peels out with a roar. My shoulders hike up. This…I’m too on edge.
Breathe. In for four. Hold. Out for six.
Natasha moves to the back of the SUV, raises the liftgate, and motions me closer. A black, metal box is already open. “This is from Inara. The ear plugs are small enough your hair should hide them. We have a comms unit if you want it, but—”
“No. If I don’t make it out of there, I can’t have them using it to track you down.”
“We don’t scare easily,” Doc says. “You sure?”
Yes. And no.
In the end, yes wins. “Ear plugs only.”
“And there’s this.” Natasha passes me a slim, ceramic blade. “You shouldn’t go in there with nothing. This won’t set off metal detectors. We can tape it to your forearm. Or put it in your pocket.”
I test the weight. The mechanism. It’s quick. Easy. Light enough for even my weakened fingers to operate. Doc watches my hands. Every movement.
“Shoulder?” he asks. “Grip strength?”
The breath hisses through my teeth. “Compromised. Right shoulder. Both hands. Two ribs.”
“Fuck,” he mutters softly. “I’ll be close. I’m not as fast as I used to be, but if Inara or Nat say the word, I can be inside in less than sixty seconds.”
“Last resort only,” I manage. “You don’t know these people.”
Natasha reaches for Doc’s hand. A moment passes between the two. Her next words are quiet. Almost a whisper. “We’ve had our run-ins with evil.”
“And the flash bang?” There’s nothing left in the kit.
Natasha pulls something out of her jacket pocket. “Press the button—here—then count to three.”
“That’s…not an M84.”
“Nope. Hidden Agenda has all the cool toys.” Doc chuckles. “That’s custom.”
It’s small enough, it almost disappears in my closed fist. “Effective range?”
“Seven, eight feet. Tops,” Doc says. “You’ll want to be close to the targets.”
With a tight nod, I slide it into the pocket of my hoodie. This is the hard part. The part I’ve tried not to think about since the video came in.
“Asher’s hurt. Bleeding. I don’t think he’s mobile on his own. And…they did something to his voice. He can’t speak. I know he’s in there. But…”
“Conscious when you last saw him?” Doc asks.
Keep it clinical. You can do clinical.
“Yes. In the video, his eye movements were lagging. But he displayed intentional fine motor control. That was less than an hour ago.”
“My kit’s in the back. I’ve got him, Raine.”
Natasha’s gaze finds Doc. The look that passes between them carries a weight I recognize, but can’t name. Not now. Not here.
“He’s the priority,” I say, forcing confidence I don’t have into my tone. “The second he’s in the car, go. Do not wait for me.”
I hold out Asher’s keys. Doc tucks them into his pocket without a word, then presses a kiss to Natasha’s forehead. “Be careful,” he whispers.
She cups his cheek. “You too.”
I climb into the back seat of the SUV, and Natasha slides behind the wheel.
She doesn’t say anything, and for once, I’m glad for the silence.
Asher wrote me a letter I haven’t opened. Left me a passport. Prepared for every version of how this ends.
I drum my fingers against my thighs, rocking back and forth in tiny, controlled movements.
Not this version. Please, not this version.