Chapter 7 #2
“Sorry, what’d you say?” Harper blinked rapidly and focused back on Wyatt at her side.
“Last known address, right.” She handed him the laptop and folded her arms. “He lives in the district, El Raval. In a flat on the third floor of a three-story building. You’ll most likely need an access card to get inside. ”
“Parts of that barrio are dangerous. Prostitutes and drug dealers aren’t uncommon, especially around this time of night,” Roman spoke up, and she’d nearly forgotten he had family here.
A very wealthy family he didn’t seem to like for reasons he wouldn’t divulge.
“But that also means people will look the other way if you pay them enough.”
“Can we infil from the roof?” A.J. walked toward her to share the screen with Wyatt as Finn and Chris began sorting through their bags, already prepping to go out.
She leaned over Wyatt and accessed the aerial footage of Mauricio’s home she’d pulled up just before coming into the living room.
“We can’t crawl up the side like Spiderman, and we don’t have a helo to drop us in,” Chris commented. “And hell, we don’t even know if this guy is home.”
“But it’s our only shot at the moment.” Wyatt frowned and turned to the side to view Roman.
“We didn’t bring our normal gear since this was supposed to be just a meeting,” Harper began, “but maybe with Roman’s help, I can rig something to bypass the key fob entry to get into the building.”
“The two of you as our personal MacGyver.” Finn slapped his palms together. “Let’s do this, then.”
Harper closed her eyes, trying to draw up a list of what they’d need, but Roman surprised her by beating her to it.
“Guess y’all’s brains are back to genius mode,” A.J. said, and Harper caught a smile from him when she opened her eyes. “I’ll see what I can find from the list.”
“I’m going out in the field,” Roman said with grit to his voice as if worried Wyatt would push back.
“You’re staying here. And before you protest, I’m also keeping A.J. with you. Someone needs to watch your arse while you’re busy watching hers.” Wyatt’s British accent popped through his words, and he squeezed his eyes closed as if regretting his choice of phrase. “You know what I mean.”
“We don’t need a babysitter.” Harper shook her head and quickly added, “I don’t give a damn what the good doctor said. I’m going. I’ll stay in the SUV if you insist. Be your eyes on the street. Roman, too.” She knew he’d never sit this out, so no point in fighting him on it.
“I’ll handle overwatch. You don’t need to be out there.” Wyatt handed the laptop off to A.J.
“And if something goes wrong when you’re kicking down doors, you’ll need all the help you can get.” Harper stood her ground.
Ezra had been her source, and he deserved justice.
She needed to be out there. She had to know for sure it’d been him in that trunk and why.
Who had gone to such great lengths to silence him, knowing she would be watching?
They had to have been sending a message or else Mauricio would have killed him the second his plane arrived in Barcelona.
“We’re good at more than just kicking down doors,” A.J. said while discarding the laptop on the coffee table.
“Sure,” Finn grumbled as he grabbed another bag to dig through. “You’ve kicked down so many doors you forgot how to use a knob.”
“Says the guy who checks every room in his house after a night out eating pizza as if worried you’ve got a terrorist hiding in your closet or rifling through your stash of porn,” A.J. shot back.
The boys and their humor. Here we go again.
Finn righted himself, held up a finger, and looked around the room. “I do not have porn.”
“Such a fuckin’ liar.” Chris laughed as he strapped his SIG to his hip and hid it beneath a jacket.
“We need to be as discreet as possible,” Wyatt began, ignoring them. “The fewer people, the better.”
“How about we pull an A.J.?” Chris smiled, but A.J. glared at him.
“Damn you for naming a maneuver after me and my drunken voicemail to Ana.” He snarled but struggled to hide his laugh. “That was supposed to be a secret. You’re shit at secrets.”
Unlike Roman, the ugly thought popped into her head. And maybe me? Who are you, Brandon? And why’d she get the feeling Roman didn’t know about him and for a good reason?
“Yeah, well, you being drunk and calling the woman you were in love with before you even knew you loved her was adorable,” Chris jibed, a huge smile on his face.
“Remind me what the A.J. is again?” Harper requested while setting one hand on top of the chair for balance.
“One of us acts like we’re drunk, and the other is a friend making sure he gets home safe. He’ll fumble with the key to get into the building while the other uses that device you two geniuses create to get inside. Pretty straightforward,” Finn explained with a light, no-big-deal shrug.
“Hell, I’ll stay in the car with Harper, then.” A.J. guffawed, and Wyatt flicked his wrist, motioning for him to pick up the pace.
“I’ll find a spot on high ground on the back side of the building and set up there for overwatch in case our guy makes a back-door exit,” Wyatt announced.
“Finn and Chris will pull this drunk maneuver. A.J. will cover the street as well. And Roman and Harper stay in the car.” He focused on Roman for an affirmative.
“Roger,” Roman said in a low voice.
“You sure you don’t want to stay here?” Finn proposed this time, directing his question to Harper a few minutes later as she quietly worked alongside Roman to create a device to bypass the apartment entrance—an electronic skeleton key of sorts.
“I need to go,” was all she said, and when she peered up to see Roman crouched down and sitting back on his heels in front of her, there was such a tired, sad look in his dark eyes, one that had her stomach squeezing. He wanted to say something. Share something. Maybe even ask her something.
But Roman kept quiet.
A nagging feeling in the back of her mind told her there was something he was afraid she might recall.
And it wasn’t how many orgasms he’d ever given her or how he kissed. Or the fact he slept in the nude, on his stomach with one hand under the pillow as if holding a gun in case of an intruder.
Not the songs that reminded her of their intimate moments.
Not the movies they watched together on lazy afternoons followed by their lovemaking last year. Or how he still read a physical newspaper from time to time while she avoided the news altogether.
She even remembered the first time she’d stumbled upon a bottle of her signature perfume in his apartment.
“Harper,” Wyatt called out to her a few minutes later after she and Roman had finished assembling the device and were checking that it worked.
Which it did, successfully tricking the electronic system outside of their hotel room to access the suite.
“Natasha is calling from the jet. She says she needs to talk to you.” Wyatt handed her the phone.
“In private.” He tipped his chin, motioning for her to go to the bedroom, and his thinned gaze and deep voice had her stomach dropping.
“Okay.” She avoided eye contact with Roman while she brushed past him.
“We roll out in five,” Wyatt told her before she closed the door to talk to his wife.
“Hey, everything okay?” What a stupid question. No, everything was far from it.
“How are you feeling?” If Natasha wasn’t cutting straight to the point, she was nervous, and now Harper needed to sit down.
“Been better.” She faked a laugh. “What’s up?” And why do you want to talk to me in private?
“Wyatt says your memories are in and out, that you don’t remember specifics about your cases with Ezra.
I’m sorry, by the way. I can’t imagine what that must feel like.
” A slow start. Was the build-up going to lead to something horrible?
“Director Spenser finally gave me one of your old case files, but a lot was redacted. And since you don’t remember, that means I need to fill in the teams. But I’m not .
. . comfortable sharing all the details in light of your condition. ”
“What is it? Why?” Her pulse quickened every second Natasha waited to share the news with her.
“Well, the case involved your former fiancé, Brandon Atwater. He was a traitor,” she said in a low, steady voice. “But he’s also dead.”