Chapter Twenty-Three #2
Nat had done this hundreds of times, but she let Reese take the lead as they walked down the dim hallway to where it dead-ended at a tall shelf of discount books.
Reese dropped her cell phone into a narrow mail slot near shoulder level and waited for them to follow suit. Then, she pressed her palm to what looked like a blank outlet cover and tugged the entire bookshelf open.
“Whoa.” Ford joined them in the small vestibule and nodded appreciatively as the shelf slid closed behind them on silent hinges. “This is very cloak and dagger. I had no idea.”
“The vault is an artifact from when this was a newspaper building.” Reese started up the stairs.
“They used it to protect printing plates, negatives, contracts, payroll cash, and important archives. Gretchen remodeled the space to serve as a team room, adding something to shield it from electronic signals.”
“Impressive,” he said.
And paranoid. But recent events suggested her moms’ paranoia had been warranted.
“Do you have a bat signal too?”
Nat hip-checked him, but a smile tugged at her lips.
Reese grinned. “Oh, we’re way more high tech than that.”
“I gathered,” he said as she led them into the windowless, white-walled vault.
Gretchen sat ramrod straight at the head of the table in a crisp button-down shirt. Mom sat next to her in one of her signature flowy dresses. They were opposites in every way, but they’d been together for most of Reese’s life. Somehow it worked.
Her moms and the rest of the team stood at the newcomers’ arrival and rushed to greet Natalie, giving her gentle hugs and welcoming her back, shaking hands with Ford.
When they finished the reunion and introductions, Reese took a post in the back corner of the vault to make room at the table for their two new additions to the team.
She’d always been a little on the outside anyway.
When the women in this room had started meeting to share their pain and anger, and take down Remy Blaze, she’d only been a year out of high school.
They’d thought of her as a little sister, or maybe a team mascot.
Once the group moved out of their hardcore grief phase and formed the Night Herons, she’d become a peripheral member, too young to meet people in bars and bug their phones, but perfectly capable of playing a support role.
Fine with her. Other than the few months after Parker died when Reese had gone a little wild—and ultimately been scared straight after waking up in her longtime crush’s bed with no memory of their night together—she’d tried very hard to ensure her moms didn’t need to worry about her.
They were still traumatized by Parker’s death and thus overly protective anyway, and she was content to stay in her safe haven, managing the bookstore and keeping the financial books for The Parker Foundation.
Her family-owned apartment was only half a mile away, so she rarely had to leave the beautiful little bubble of Hermosa Beach, but she occasionally wished she were braver, more adventurous.
Like the women in this room who jetted all over the world to exact justice.
Sometimes she wished she were at the “pointy end of the spear” instead of “in the rear with the gear” as her Army-veteran uncle used to say.
“What, no food?” Natalie took her seat at the table, scooting her chair as close to Ford’s as possible while resuming her role as group jester.
Both Emma and Natalie had returned from Switzerland with handsome men at their sides who looked at them with so much love and pride it made Reese’s stomach flutter.
Emma and Nat appeared just as smitten. After everything they’d seen and been through, how did it feel to love and be loved like that?
And with their histories, how had they been able to let go and trust a man that much?
She’d never been able to accomplish it without being heavily pickled.
Well, except for Dallas Markham, the computer genius with a thing for pastry, and Nolan Yamazaki, resident finance whiz, who’d been bringing a lot of marzipan danish to the office lately. She trusted them with her life. But so did her moms, and that spoke volumes.
While Nat fidgeted in her seat, Gretchen spoke, welcoming her back to the nest—a rare joke from Reese’s adopted mom—and thanked Ford for his role in making it happen.
Turning to Jason, Gretchen said, “I want to thank you and the Steele team for supporting the effort to rescue Natalie. We’re more grateful than you’ll ever know for your part in bringing her and Emma home safely.
” She visibly swallowed, looking uncharacteristically awkward.
Laura reached over and took Gretchen’s hand, and Reese realized she was the only one in the room without a partner.
Hailey and Ashley were off somewhere hunting down evidence against the Fisswert Games CEO who had a penchant for young girls and a stellar track record at making witnesses vanish, so they didn’t count.
But rumor had it that the women were dating twins, a brother and sister they’d met while helping out on Emma’s case last month.
Reese frowned. She’d been fine without a romantic interest in her life since that disastrous night with Luke six years ago, but she’d also been feeling a little restless lately. Maybe…lonely?
Gretchen cut into her thoughts. “I have some news.”
Everyone focused on the woman who looked so stern. The same woman who’d cared for Reese when she was sick, told her every day that she loved her, and made her mother happier than anyone thought possible after Reese’s dad died.
“According to my source, Harrison Wallace is talking. Apparently, he was part of a small group of men we exposed who wanted revenge. They called themselves the Alastor Group.” Gretchen waved a hand dismissively.
“Something from Greek mythology having to do with vengeance and blood feuds. Very original.” The twist of her mouth gave away her distaste.
“They apparently gave themselves weapon nicknames.”
“Saber and Mace,” Natalie said.
Gretchen rolled her eyes. “Yes.”
“Any idea who the other members are?” Ford asked the question they were probably all thinking.
“Besides the two you already know about, Richard McMaster, Mark Shipman, and Archer Lonagan. Wallace claims that Lonagan is the ringmaster behind everything that’s happened and that the rest of them went along hoping to get some of their money back.”
“Yeah.” Natalie frowned. “I got that impression.”
Ford glowered at the table and slid his arm around Natalie’s shoulders.
“The good news,” Gretchen continued, looking like it was anything but, “is that McMaster and Shipman are already in custody.”
“And Archer Lonagan?” Emma asked, her expression making it clear how much she loathed the former radio show host who’d sexually coerced dozens of his guests and coworkers.
“He ran. Took a private jet to Australia. They believe his ultimate destination was Vanuatu, a non-extradition country where he purchased citizenship a few months ago.”
“That sucks donkey balls,” Nat said. “Clearly we didn’t locate all of his offshore accounts.”
“Sorry,” Nolan piped in, looking glum.
Dallas shook his head. “Not your fault. Those accounts are supposed to be hard to find. Also, if I remember right, that asshole had a lot of money tied up in a trust he managed for his children.”
“How much you want to bet his kids bought him citizenship and a small island?” Jason asked.
Everyone at the table scowled and nodded. But then Natalie sat up. “He may have gotten away, but Price is gone and the rest are locked up, right? And with Lonagan now on our radar, and subject to arrest if he returns to the States, maybe we can get back to business as usual.”
Ford and Jason didn’t look super excited about that, but Gretchen seemed to perk up a bit, the tightness around her eyes loosening.
“We need to step up our after-action monitoring of him and anyone we take down moving forward. And Dallas is going to audit our security protocols and comms. But, yes. It appears that the direct threat has been neutralized. It’s the only reason I felt comfortable inviting you all back to the bookstore today. ”
What a relief. They’d all been tiptoeing around, looking over their shoulders—more than usual—since Emma first went missing and Nat was thought dead.
Full relaxation wouldn’t be on the table for as long as they were out to uncover the crimes of powerful, vengeful men, but Reese already felt more at ease than she had in a month.
For the next hour, Nat and Ford told the team everything that had happened since the shooting. It sounded terrifying. Southern France sounded beautiful and romantic though, and for the first time in ages, Reese thought she might be almost ready to venture outside her self-imposed boundaries.
The team had shifted to discussing ongoing investigations and new tips from sources when Reese had to duck out to open the shop.
She ran upstairs to the break room to grab another espresso and her laptop before emerging into the back of the store to start her morning routine.
Through the front windows she could see a man already waiting at the front door, munching on a burrito bearing the bright orange wrapper from next door.
She couldn’t blame him. The scent was hard to resist, and Margarita’s breakfast burritos were legendary, with a local following that formed a line around the block on weekends.
The bookstore was a direct beneficiary of all the foot traffic, especially during the summer months, and Reese recommended the little restaurant to anyone who’d listen.
She set up her computer, turned on the point-of-sale device, and opened the blinds.
She could swear the man followed her progress, and her skin prickled with uneasy awareness.
Hadn’t he been here a few days ago? Surreptitiously, she took note of his features, even though the cameras were probably catching more detail than she ever could.
White guy, maybe late twenties, wire-rimmed glasses, dark blond hair curling up from under a Dodgers ball cap.
Lean and good looking in a slightly nerdy way she might appreciate if she wasn’t so jumpy.
They had repeat customers all the time. Why was she so on edge?
Maybe it was the team meeting. Finally seeing Natalie in the flesh after believing her dead for weeks had been terrible and surreal. The embodiment of every dream she’d had about her sister that would never come true.
Reese gave a little head shake. Her nerves were too exposed was all.
Surely if there was anything to worry about, Dallas would’ve already flagged the guy.
But just to be safe, after Emma and Natalie and their boyfriends snuck down the back staircase to the alley to avoid being seen by patrons, she’d ask Dallas to take a closer look at their new customer.