Chapter 9
INDY
The scream shocks the three of us into silence.
I freeze in place as instinct takes over.
There’s a threat.
Someone’s in trouble.
Danger’s coming.
All my muscles tense in anticipation of an inevitable attack.
No. It’s already here.
There’s a moment of inaction, as my brain denies what I’m hearing.
It couldn’t be.
Not here.
We’re supposed to be safe.
“What was that?” Webb barks.
But he knows the answer, just as we all do.
Another scream splits the air.
My muscles unlock.
And I run.
Sprinting through the house and towards the source of the sound.
Towards the scream that could only have come from Bea.
It has to be.
I left her in the client apartment before I went to my meeting, and, given that she’s not in the team kitchen or living room, I assume she’s still in there.
But why is she screaming?
Why is her voice filled with terror?
With Ace on my left and Webb on my right, we tear down the hallway that leads to Bea’s apartment.
Though I’m running full-out, it feels as if I’m moving through quicksand. The distance to Bea’s door seems to get further away by the second.
What happened to her?
Scenarios spin through my mind in a dizzying frenzy.
Was she triggered into a flashback?
Did she remember something new? Something her attacker said or did to her?
Or worse—
Fuck.
“The alarms didn’t go off,” Ace says, but he doesn’t sound reassured by it. And neither am I. Because I know that no matter how carefully you plan, something can always go sideways.
Could someone have gotten inside? Somehow bypassed the extensive security while we were all sitting in our meeting, never imagining the threat we’ve been investigating was here?
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Bea’s supposed to be safe.
As I near the door to Bea’s apartment, a terrified moan comes from the other side of it.
Fear and relief hit me at once.
She’s alive.
But what if she’s hurt?
“Tyler’s coming,” Ace reports. His gaze is glued to his phone, but he doesn’t miss a step. “Rafe’s getting Eden in the panic room, then he’ll be on his way.”
“Maybe it’s nothing,” Webb offers. But it’s clear he doesn’t believe it.
It takes three tries to get the damn access code right. With each failed entry, my fear keeps growing.
It feels surreal. Only five minutes prior, we were walking back to our apartments, chatting about our predictions for the Super Bowl and what food we should have while we’re watching it.
I was thinking—hoping, really—that Bea would still be here for it.
Not that I want her to still need our protection by then, but the idea of her sitting beside me, maybe even clutching my hand for the exciting parts…
I like the mental image of it. A lot.
But instead.
She’s in there. In trouble. While I’m out in the hallway, fucking around with this stupid keypad when I should be inside already.
“It might just be a flashback,” Webb suggests. “If she hasn’t had them yet, it’s only a matter of time.”
He’s right. And I should have done something about it already. Arranged for some virtual therapy for her. Even though she’s in hiding, we know people who’d help without involving the police.
Cursing under my breath, I punch in the code a third time. And finally—finally—the damn thing works.
It still takes a few more seconds for the interior locks to deactivate, each one releasing with a tiny click. Then I yank the door open and race inside, ignoring all the tactics drilled into me in the Army.
Never enter an unknown environment without a plan. Have a weapon in hand, if possible. Surveil your surroundings. Communicate with your team. Be logical about it. Because impulsiveness can get you killed.
But how can I wait?
When Bea’s in here—shit. Shit.
Across the living room, I spot cookies half-made on the island.
A mixing bowl sits unattended with parchment-lined baking trays beside them.
Beyond the island, the oven display is lit up, displaying the temperature at four hundred degrees.
The phone Tyler gave Bea lies unattended on the sleek granite.
My training kicking in, I jerk my head at Ace, signaling him to search the short hallway that leads to the bedrooms. To Webb, I angle my chin towards the half-bath off the living room, where a closed door could be hiding anything.
Then I move towards the kitchen.
My hands tighten into fists, flexing in anticipation.
If someone’s over there, hurting Bea…
Just before I round the corner to the other side of the island, I scan the kitchen again.
Everything looks normal. The window that overlooks the backyard is closed and locked securely.
Aside from the faint scent of peanut butter and sugar in the air, there’s nothing concerning—no coppery tang of blood or the acrid burn of gunpowder.
For a moment, I think, Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe she saw a spider in the bathroom. A wasp. I remember my mom shrieking in fear whenever she’d find a scorpion back at our house in Texas, and how my dad would reassure her that it was more scared of her than she was of it.
Then.
I see Bea.
She’s huddled on the floor, tucked into a defensive ball, legs pulled up to her chest and her hands clamped over her ears.
She’s shaking all over. Whimpering. Crying.
I crash to my knees beside her, momentarily torn between pulling her into my arms and following procedure.
“Webb,” I call out. “Ace. I’ve got her. Check—”
“Clear in the bathroom,” Webb replies briskly.
“Bea,” I croon. “Hey. Can you talk to me?”
But she doesn’t respond. She just sits there, hugging herself, trembling.
I touch her arm gently. “Bea. I’m here. Can you look at me? Tell me what’s wrong?”
She jerks at my touch, smacking the back of her head on the wooden cabinet.
Shit.
Lifting my hands in the universal I’m not a threat gesture, I say, “It’s just me. Indy. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe. I promise.”
Guilt slashes through me as the words come out.
How can I even say that? When something obviously isn’t right?
Then she lifts her head to look at me.
The fear in her eyes punches me right in the gut.
“Clear in the rest of the apartment,” Ace announces. He walks into the kitchen, stopping beside Webb at the end of the island. “Is she having a flashback?”
But before I can answer, Bea flings herself at me, burying her face in my neck. Rough sobs wrack her body. Her heart thunders against my chest.
“Indy,” she moans. “Indy.”
Guilt flays me open.
I don’t know what happened. But I should have been here.
Gathering Bea into my arms, I carry her over to the couch and try to set her down, but she won’t let go of me. Her grip on my neck just gets tighter and she starts crying harder.
So I sit down and arrange her on my lap instead. Then I stroke her hair as I say, “Bea. It’s okay. You’re okay. Deep breaths. Okay?”
“I don’t think she can hear you.” Webb carefully sets Bea’s implants on the coffee table. He glances at me with a worried expression. “They were on the floor. Over by the fridge.”
What?
Why?
With Bea still crying in my arms, I do my best to check her over. She seems unharmed, with no cuts or bruises aside from the nearly-healed cut on her forehead and the fading yellowish bruise around it. I run my hands down her arms and legs, and everything feels as it should be.
But something’s wrong. Obviously.
“What happened?” Rafe jogs into the apartment, with Tyler close on his heels. Unlike me, Webb, and Ace, they’re armed—not that we would normally be while inside HQ, but with a possible threat, of course they’d grab their weapons before coming.
“I don’t know,” I reply through a gritted jaw. “We were just heading back from the meeting and heard a scream. When we got in, she was in the kitchen, sobbing. And she hasn’t said anything since we got here.”
“Her implants were off,” Webb adds. “It looked like maybe she had thrown them. Or someone—”
Everyone tenses. Suspicious looks dart around the living room.
“It’s clear,” Ace says. “We checked. Unless someone got in here, ripped her implants off, and then somehow escaped through a locked window…”
Now that I know Bea can’t hear me, I change my approach. Touching her chin with my finger, I lift her face so she has to look at me. “Bea.” I say, carefully enunciating my words. “I need you to calm down. Tell me what happened. Was it a flashback? Did someone get in here?”
She stares at me for a few seconds, tears glazing her eyes.
Then she takes a shuddering breath. And another.
My four teammates close into a protective circle around us.
Tyler pulls out his phone and starts tapping at it. As he studies the screen, he says, “Everything’s clear. No breach at the perimeter fence. The radar system didn’t pick up any drone activity. I’m looking at all the cameras around the house. There’s nothing concerning.”
I grab one of Bea’s implants and hold it out to her. But the instant she sees it, she shakes her head vigorously and pushes it away. “No. I don’t want it.”
“Okay.” I set the implant back on the table. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Bea can read lips. I know she can, because she told me how she taught herself back in high school. But she must be out of practice, because it takes her a few seconds before she replies, “I heard… something.”
“In a flashback?” I ask. “Or did you remember something?”
“No.” She shakes her head again. “Neither.” Her gaze skitters around the room again. “No one… no one’s here?”
“No one is here.” I turn to Ace, then Webb. “Right? You checked everything?”
They both nod in unison. “All clear,” Ace affirms, looking at Bea as he says it. “It’s just us. No one else.”
Fresh tears fill her eyes. “I… Someone…”
I hug her closer. “It’s okay. Take your time.”
After another shaky exhale, Bea lifts her chin and sets her shoulders. She swipes the tears from her cheeks. “I was cooking. And I heard someone talking to me. He said…” Her brow wrinkles. “I was going to be sorry. I shouldn’t have run. And…”
A tremor shakes her body. “He… He said if I didn’t go back, my parents would die.”
“What?”
Rafe curses.
Webb spins around, searching the room again.
Ace strides over to the kitchen window and looks outside.
I swallow back my worry and anger to ask gently, “Was there anything else?”
Bea’s pink-rimmed eyes move from my lips to my eyes. “A noise. It hurt my head. That’s when… I pulled them off and threw them.”
Then she starts crying again.
“What the fuck?” Ace asks. “How could this happen?”
Tyler grimaces. “I have an idea. But I need to look into it.”
“Is she going to be okay?” Webb asks. “Is there anything we can do?”
As I look at the woman held tightly in my arms, protectiveness swells inside me until there’s no room left for anything else.
How must she be feeling?
Scared, of course. Confused, just as we are. And without her implants… She can speak. Read lips. But she can’t hear. And that has to be terrifying, especially given what just happened.
Drawing her attention again, I ask, “Do you want your implants?”
Fear flashes in her eyes. “No. I can’t—”
“Okay. No implants, then. Not now.”
“I’m going to take a look at them,” Tyler says. “If someone had access…”
Any other time, I’d want to stay and discuss it.
But now?
Lifting Bea in my arms again, I rise from the couch and head to the front door. When her surprised eyes meet mine, I tell her carefully, “I’m taking you to my place. Okay?”
At first, she just stares at me. Her chin wobbles. Then she nods. “Okay.”