18. Cara #2
"Then we can decide if it's a recovery point," Falcon adds, looking at me. "We."
"Okay," I say.
Ice Pick opens the SUV door for Maggie. I'm about to climb in myself when Falcon says my name. I turn.
Falcon stays where he is. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
I look at Ice Pick. He gives me a small nod, and I step a few feet away with Falcon.
“What?” I ask.
He shoves his hands into his pockets, probably to stop himself from reaching for me. “I hate this.”
“I know.”
“I hate you going anywhere connected to these people.”
“I know,” I repeat.
His jaw tightens. “I hate that I can’t put you somewhere safe and keep you there until this is over.”
My eyebrows rise.
“I said I hate that I can’t,” he clarifies. “Not that I’m going to try.”
“That’s disturbingly self-aware.”
“It’s been a terrible week,” Falcon says.
I smile despite everything, and so does he. Then his expression turns serious again.
“If that house isn’t secure, you don’t stay.”
“That depends.”
“Cara,” he warns.
“No, listen.” I hold his gaze. “If the house isn’t secure, none of us stay. We find another option.”
The tension in his shoulders eases. “Right.”
“You keep making this about me.”
“Because I love you.”
The words come out plainly. There’s no drama attached to them and no expectation behind them.
They still land somewhere deep in my chest. "I love you too."
He goes still.
I've said it before, not since I told him I was done. His eyes search mine, and I keep talking before he makes more of it than I'm ready to give. "That doesn't mean you get special rules."
"It was worth a try."
I laugh. "You're impossible."
"Heard that before many times." He smiles at me.
“Those women need someone waiting who doesn’t look like the men who held them,” I say.
“I understand,” Falcon replies.
“Sarah understands things I don’t. Maggie understands things neither of us does. We can help them.”
His jaw works for a moment before he nods. “Okay.”
I search his face. “Okay?”
“I’m not going to make you fight me for the right to help.”
Something inside me softens. “Thank you.”
Falcon takes a breath. “Keep the security phone on?”
“I will.”
“And listen to Ice.”
“When he’s being sensible,” I qualify.
Falcon almost smiles. “He’s going to love you.”
“He already does.”
“He’ll deny it,” Falcon says.
"Obviously." I step closer, close enough that I decide I want to touch him and put my arms around him instead of just standing there. He freezes for half a second before his arms relax around me, carefully. I press my face against his chest, and his heart's going faster than it should be.
"I'm coming back," I whisper.
His arms tighten slightly, not enough to hold me there. "Don't promise what you can't control."
I pull back, surprised. He catches himself. "Apparently I've been listening."
I touch his cheek. “Then I’ll do everything I can to come back.”
“That I can live with,” Falcon says.
His hand covers mine. He waits, giving me time to pull away, but I leave it there. Then he turns his head and kisses my knuckles.
My breath catches, there’s no question needed for that one.
“Go,” he says quietly.
“Still bossy,” I tell him.
“It’s a strong suggestion.”
“Better.”
I climb into the back of the SUV. Ice Pick waits until my seat belt clicks before pulling away.
Maggie turns in the front seat to look at me. “So?”
“No.”
Her eyes widen innocently. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You don’t need to.”
“I was going to ask if you’re comfortable.” She smiles at me.
“Liar,” I say.
She laughs. Sarah leans toward me. "He kissed your hand."
I close my eyes. "You two are unbearable."
"Let’s go," Ice Pick’s mouth twitches in the mirror.
The laughter helps, though it doesn't touch the fear underneath it, and I don't think it's supposed to. Fear has a purpose. It's telling me something is important.
Twenty minutes later Ice Pick turns onto a quiet residential road, and the house at the end of it is almost aggressively ordinary. Pale siding, two trees in the front yard, no bikes, no club markings, no men standing outside. I understand immediately why it might work.
"Bear's old house," Ice Pick says, unlocking the door and letting us in first. "Club's owned it for six years since his mother died. Nobody's lived here since."
"Any neighbors?" Maggie asks.
"Older couple one side. Family with teenagers on the other."
"They know the club owns it?" Maggie is on fire with the questions.
"Probably not."
Good. Inside it smells closed up but clean, four bedrooms, two bathrooms, nothing luxurious, exactly what it needs to be. Sarah walks the downstairs slowly. Maggie checks windows. I check exits, apparently a habit that never really left.
“Does it have a back garden?” I ask.
Ice Pick opens the rear door to reveal a fenced yard. The fence is tall enough to provide privacy, with a gate set into one side.
“It needs another lock,” Sarah says, testing the gate.
“Agreed,” Ice Pick replies.
Maggie points at the window above the kitchen sink. “Curtains.”
“There are blinds,” Ice Pick tells her.
“We need curtains too,” Maggie insists.
He takes out his phone and starts a list. “Anything else?”
“Female supplies,” I say.
Confusion crosses his face for half a second before he catches up.
“Give me the list,” he says.
“I’ll write it,” I tell him. “You’ll buy exactly what it says though.”
“It’s safer that way,” he agrees.
Sarah returns from checking the other room. “We’ll need some soft clothes in lots of sizes.”
“Shoes,” I add.
“And slippers,” Maggie says.
Ice Pick types both into his phone. “Shoes and slippers.”
His thumbs move quickly over the screen. “Food?”
“Basic things,” Maggie suggests. “Nothing with strong smells.”
I nod. “Bottled water. Tea.”
Ice Pick glances at me. “You think tea cures bullet wounds.”
“Tea helps everything,” I inform him.
“Noted,” he says, adding it to the list.
My phone buzzes. The security channel. My stomach drops before I've even read it.
Security Phone:
WAREHOUSE UPDATE: Van departing. Surveillance team following. Four female occupants confirmed inside building. No women observed in departing vehicle.
A small wave of relief moves through me. Small, temporary, they're still in there, but it means we have time.
Security Phone:
LAW ENFORCEMENT CONTACT EN ROUTE TO OBSERVATION POINT. NO ACTION YET.
Sarah reads over my shoulder. "They're still inside."
"Yes."
Maggie looks at me. "Then we get ready."
Not Falcon. Not the club. We.
For the next hour we turn an empty house into somewhere a frightened woman could walk into without feeling like she's just traded one set of walls for another.
We move furniture so nobody has to sit with their back to a door.
Sarah checks every bedroom lock twice. Maggie cracks windows to clear the stale air.
Two prospects arrive in plain clothes, Digger and a younger one called Mouse, and neither of them wanders or asks unnecessary questions, they just puts things where we tell them and leave. This club's learning fast.
My phone buzzes again. Falcon.
Falcon:
House okay?
Cara:
Yes. Needs work but it feels normal. That matters.
Falcon:
Security?
Cara:
Ice Pick is handling it. Sarah found two things he missed.
Falcon:
Tell her she's hired. Don't tell Ice Pick.
I laugh.
"What?" Ice Pick asks, looking over.
"Nothing."
"I hate all of you."
Another message.
Falcon:
Merrick just arrived at the warehouse.
Everything in me goes still.
Cara:
What happens now?
Falcon:
Police contact confirms enough for a surveillance warrant, not entry. Working on probable cause. Nobody moves yet.
Nobody moves, and that includes him. I breathe out.
Sarah sees my face. "Merrick?"
"Yes."
Maggie straightens. "We're close, then."
Maybe. I hate maybe. She's right anyway.
By six the house is ready enough, not finished, but done enough that women could move in tonight if they need to.
There’s clean bedding, toiletries in every bathroom, food in the kitchen, a basket of slippers in different sizes by the door, and new phones sitting unopened in a drawer until somebody checks they're safe to use.
There are information sheets on the table that nobody will hand over unless somebody asks for them.
No rules are posted on the walls, there’s no schedule, just somewhere to land.
I stand in the living room. Sarah joins me. "You think they'll like it?"
"I hope they never need it."
"But if they do?" She loos sad.
I look around. "I hope they don't hate it."