CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Roman and Cash greeted Sawyer and Angela when they walked out of the hospital. Sawyer hadn’t seen them since the incident at the hotel. Neither man’s concerned scowl was friendly, but when they saw Angela, they tried their best to smile.
With an out-of-place straw cowboy hat, Cash opened the back door of a black SUV for Angela as though he were a chauffeur and helped her in. Sawyer slid into the back seat with her. Roman was at the wheel. Cash, the last one in the vehicle, did a once-over, monitoring their surroundings before closing himself in.
“Where are Brock and Winters?” Sawyer asked.
“They hightailed it back to headquarters,” Cash answered.
“Where are we headed?” Angela asked.
Roman pulled out of the horseshoe driveway. “That depends.”
Cash turned and faced them in the back seat. “The Feds were notified of a weird call.”
Sawyer’s eyebrow arched. “About?”
Cash tilted his head toward Angela. “Our bulletproof princess.”
Roman’s phone rang. The center console display read Titan HQ. He punched the button on the dash to answer the call.
“Got everyone yet?” Parker said through the car speakers.
“That’s affirmative; we’re all here.”
“How you feeling, Angela?” Parker asked.
“Like I was run over by a water buffalo.”
The corners of Sawyer’s lips quirked.
“Are you up for a few hours’ drive?” Parker asked. “Because the tables have turned, and I think your girl might be trying to find you this time.”
“Mylene is looking for me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” Parker said. “There’s a recording of a call made to your mother’s office. The caller sounds like they might be in the midst of a mental health crisis, but—there’s a Fed named John Patterson. You remember him, right?”
“Yeah, I remember him,” she grumbled. “Who could forget?”
“Yeah, well, they sent the call to Patterson, and he thinks it’s your girl.”
Angela reached for Sawyer’s hand. “Why would he think that?”
“I don’t know. I heard the call. The call’s pretty gibberishy, but it’s clearly about you.”
“Did they trace the call? Do they know where Mylene might be?” Angela asked.
“They have the location the call originated from and are going in shortly.”
The black cup of hospital coffee churned in Sawyer’s stomach. He hated unknowns and didn’t love that Parker had called with so many. If Angela’s doctors had kept her another day, they wouldn’t be in this vehicle traveling toward all those unanswered questions. The operation would have been completed, and a report of findings could have been safely handed to Angela instead.
“If they find Mylene, are you game to see her?” Parker asked.
“Absolutely.”
Sawyer made sure to keep his hands to himself. He wanted to tuck her protectively to his side. That wouldn’t fly near their colleagues.
“All right, then,” Parker said. “Roman will head this way. When we have confirmation that it’s Mylene, we’ll find out where to take you to see her. If it’s not her, then I don’t know. We’ll come up with a Plan B.”
Sawyer wanted Plan B to have a much more robust security component than what they’d discussed thus far: locate a new safe house and, until it was found, keep an eye on Angela at all times.
“Can I hear the call?” she asked.
“Yeah. Sure. Give me a minute.”
Then the recording started with white noise and a standard congressional office greeting. The caller’s voice was hoarse. At times, it rushed. Other times, it was stilted and garbled.
“Does that sound like Mylene Hathaway?” Cash asked.
“I never spoke to her. I only saw her.”
“There’s definitely a mental health issue in play,” Parker added. “John Patterson will be able to sort through that.”
“Will he be there?”
“I’m pretty sure he’s already on the scene and will accompany her wherever they go.”
Sawyer held his breath.
“John Patterson isn’t on my list of favorite people,” Angela admitted.
“Well, there’s not much we can do to divert him from this project.”
“I don’t trust him,” she added.
Sawyer agreed. “Yeah, I don’t either.”
“Is Titan assisting with her capture?” Roman asked.
“Nope.”
“So all we have, intel-wise, is what they pass along?” Roman clarified.
“Yup,” Parker said.
“That sounds promising,” Roman added then looked at Angela in his rearview mirror. “Do you still want to do this?”
Angela reached for Sawyer and squeezed his hand as Cash glanced at the back seat. His gaze dropped to the handhold, and he averted his eyes. Sawyer’s face didn’t register either Cash or Angela. She was in a vulnerable state. He wouldn’t violate their agreement’s confidentiality, but he wouldn’t leave her hanging when she reached out. He squeezed her back.
“Yes, no question.” She gave another squeeze and pulled her hand back.
“All right, then,” Parker repeated. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
The call disconnected. Roman maneuvered onto Interstate 95 North. The back seat seemed smaller than it had a minute ago. Sawyer repositioned the seat belt digging into his shoulder.
“There was a gorgeous pair of earrings in my hotel room safe,” Angela said. “They probably need to be returned to a local jewelry store.”
Cash nodded, facing straight ahead. “Parker made sure we had a clean-up team get into your rooms after local PD processed it as a crime scene.”
Both Angela and Cash sounded overly formal to Sawyer. He changed positions again. The back seat didn’t have enough legroom. “How much longer?”
Roman snorted. “We’ve been driving for five minutes.”
Cash and Roman were younger than Sawyer. They reminded him of Camden, the youngest guy on the Abu Dhabi team. Camden was cocky but had mellowed over the last few years. Sawyer wasn’t sure the US-based team was very mellow. They rarely interacted. Sawyer wasn’t sure how much Cash and Roman knew about the Abu Dhabi team. Probably as much as Sawyer knew about other teams based outside of the US. Jared Westin had one hell of an international network.
Angela closed her eyes and rested her head in the crook of her arm against the window. Would last night be the last time she and Sawyer fell asleep together? His chest ached. That couldn’t be the case. He wouldn’t let it. Once they’d found Mylene and negotiations over Pham had ceased and the fucker was safely in prison for the rest of his life, Sawyer and Angela could redefine their new normal. What would that look like?
Roman’s phone rang again through the car’s speakers. He answered, “What do we know, Parker?”
“It’s her.”
Angela jerked upright in her seat. “Are they certain?”
“Completely certain.”
“Oh my God,” Angela whispered.
“And,” Parker added, “she’s demanding to speak to you.”
“Oh my God,” she repeated.
“Apparently, much to John Patterson’s chagrin, she’ll only speak with you.”