Chapter 15
INDY
Even though I know Bea’s safe, I still hate being away from her.
In the nearly thirty-six hours since we’ve been apart, I keep reminding myself, she’s safe. Tyler, Ace, and Yara are trained. They won’t let anything happen to her.
When we first came up with this plan, I was adamant I wanted to be in the thick of it. Not waiting back in Rainier Beach for my teammates to call with an update. Not hearing the news second-hand that the asshole who hurt Bea had finally been caught.
No. I wanted to see him in person.
Not just see him. Make sure he knows how fucking pissed off I am. Make sure he knows he messed with the wrong woman. That if he even thinks about hurting Bea again, I’ll kill him.
I would. Kill him, that is.
If it comes to Bea’s safety, I wouldn’t hesitate.
It wouldn’t be the first time. And not that I’m planning on it happening again, but there are just some people—asshole pieces of shit who prey on innocent women, in particular—who deserve it.
So I was wrapped up in thoughts of vengeance when I told Rafe I was in.
Insisted on it, in fact. “I want to be there,” I told my teammates during our meeting three days ago.
“I know you guys can handle him. It’s not that.
But he hurt Bea. He framed her for murder.
Shit. He could have killed her. I need to face him.
And then I can come back and tell Bea it’s done. That I saw it through for her.”
At the time, it made sense.
And when I talked to Bea about it afterwards, she said she understood. That she’d worry about me, but she trusted me to stay safe.
Three days ago, I couldn’t stop thinking about retribution.
And leaving Bea with Yara, Tyler, and Ace wasn’t ideal, but it made sense.
Now?
Wearing a path in the living room carpet of this little ranch just outside Springdale, a torturous three hours away from Bea, wondering if the separation is all for nothing?
Worrying that even with all our precautions, something could go wrong? That Bea could end up in trouble and I won’t be there to protect her?
Shit.
What was I thinking?
Pivoting on my heel, I spin around and start pacing the room in the opposite direction. But it doesn’t help. Nothing does.
No matter how many times I tell myself it’s going to be fine, I can’t quite believe it.
If something happens to Bea, and I’m not there…
My damn pride.
I know that was part of it.
Yes, I want to face this asshole if he shows up. But deep down, I know I wanted to prove myself, too. I wanted to show Bea that I could protect her from anyone. That my prosthetic really doesn’t hold me back.
I wanted to be the hero of the story.
But heroes come in all forms, don’t they? I should know that already.
Eden’s a hero, and she’s never stepped foot on a battlefield. So is Bea.
I could have stayed back and let Tyler or Ace take my place. Bea wouldn’t have looked at me differently. She wouldn’t care who caught the guy who hurt her.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I open my messages again and re-read the last text Bea sent. It was only ten minutes ago, which should be enough reassurance that she’s safe.
Hi! I’m just about to watch the season premiere of Top Chef with Yara. Turns out she likes cooking shows, too. I made beignets, mini po’boys, and gumbo to go with the New Orleans theme of the season.
Then she sent a photo of the beignets, which I’d never heard of before but look really good.
The third text was shorter, but made me miss her even more.
I hope you’re okay. I miss you.
Shit.
I should have stayed.
“You’re going to wear the Grand Canyon into the floor.”
I look away from my phone to meet Webb’s amused gaze. He’s sitting on the couch with his feet propped on the coffee table and a plate with a half-eaten sandwich on his lap. A car restoration show is playing on TV with the volume off and the closed captions on.
Which makes me miss Bea all over again.
Webb’s expression sobers as he studies my face. “She’s fine, you know. Tyler’s been checking in every hour. And with Yara there—you know she’s good. If something does come up, she, Ace, and Tyler can handle it.”
I stop mid-pace and head over to the couch. Flopping down on the opposite end from Webb, I reply, “I know she’s fine. And I know they can handle it. I wouldn’t have left her there if I didn’t.”
His eyebrows go up. “But?”
“I can’t stop worrying, anyway.”
Webb sets the plate on the coffee table. “Because you care about her.”
“I do.”
This time when I glance at my phone, I check the security app instead of my texts.
The cameras we installed around the exterior of the house display views of patchy grass and overgrown shrubs and a night sky speckled with faint pinpricks of light.
The alarms are still activated to trigger silently the second anyone even thinks about approaching the house.
“I just looked,” Webb says. “At the security cameras, that is. Everything looks good.”
Of course he did. Because even though Webb looks like he’s just enjoying a lazy evening in front of the TV, he’s on guard, just like me.
After all, that’s the point of it. Sitting here. Waiting. Hoping the trap we set will eventually spring.
It wasn’t the original plan, but during our meeting the other day, Ace suggested it as another option.
“I know we’ll find the guy eventually,” Ace said, “but I had an idea while I was running. We moved Bea to Yara’s place in case the killer got her location when he hacked her implants.”
“But they can’t hack into them now,” Tyler reminded him. “The only location they’d have is B and A. And so far, there’s been no activity.”
“They might not want to try breaking into B and A,” Ace replied. “With all the obvious security, they’d have to know it’s near impossible. But… what if they thought Bea was in a less secure location?”
“We’re not using Bea as bait,” I snapped. “No way.”
“We wouldn’t have to use Bea, though, would we?” Ace asked. “Ty. Couldn’t you make it look like her implants were somewhere else? I’m not sure how, but I thought it might be something you could do. Then we could take up position at a fake safehouse while Bea’s still at Yara’s.”
Tyler thought about it for a second. Then he nodded. “I could link her implants to a different phone. One without security. And if we went someplace with open Wi-Fi, Bluetooth… if they’re looking for Bea’s signal, they’d be able to pick it up again.”
So that’s what we’re doing.
Now Webb and I are staying at a rental house in Springdale, thirty minutes east of Portland, while Bea is still safely hidden in Rainier Beach with Tyler, Ace, and Yara. Rafe’s holding down the fort, as my dad used to say, back at HQ, since we don’t want to leave Eden there on her own.
The signal’s been live for over a day now, which isn’t a long time, really, but I just wish the asshole would hurry up and get here.
There’s no guarantee, of course. He could have given up on finding Bea this way after his first attempt failed. He could decide it’s too risky. The whole plan could be a waste of time.
Or he could come after her. And if he does, we’ll be ready.
Not in a building with enough security to rival the White House, this time, but a ranch he can easily break into.
We installed cameras and alarms, but the alarms are silent, so we’ll know he’s here, but he’ll have no idea they were triggered.
The visible security is simple—a video doorbell, a motion-activated light over the garage door, and a lock a child could pick on the fence gate.
So the hope is; this asshole will search the house online, discover how innocuous it is, and head here in hopes of finding Bea.
When he gets here, he’ll get inside. And we’ll be waiting.
Then I’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt Bea again.
“What are you going to do when this is all over?” Webb asks.
“What do you mean?”
“With Bea. She lives in DC, and you’re here. So… how will that work?”
My stomach twists.
How will that work?
I know we haven’t been together long. Not nearly long enough to talk about Bea moving to the West Coast. Or for me to consider giving up B and A to join her in DC—
Shit.
Would I? Give up everything I’ve found here to be with her?
“I don’t know,” I reply, partly to Webb, and partly in answer to my own question. “I guess we’ll just have to see how things go.”
Webb stares at me. Then he says, “I bet there are lots of physical therapist jobs around Portland.”
“Her parents live in Pittsburgh. They’re close. I don’t know that she’d want to live that far away from them.”
“Pittsburgh’s what—” He pulls out his phone and taps at the screen. “A four and a half hour drive from DC. Not much shorter than a flight from Portland.”
Though I try to tamp it down, a spark of hope flares. “Maybe. But she’s got her job—”
“Jones.” Webb switches to my nickname, which he never uses unless he’s about to say something serious. “Do you really think Bea will want to go back to the place where her friend died? Where she was attacked?”
“Well, no—”
“Maybe she’ll want a fresh start. Somewhere she feels safe.” He gives me a long look. “Like Blade and Arrow. You never know, do you? Unless you try.”
He’s right. But that’s steps ahead of where we are now. First, we need to fix this for Bea. Make it so she can work again and live wherever she wants to. And then—
My phone vibrates in my hand.
Though it could be anything, my gut knows before I even look at the screen.
One of the alarms was triggered.
And there, creeping along the trees edging the backyard, is the intruder we’ve been waiting for.
In tandem, Webb and I rise from the couch.
Adrenaline surges.
Webb grabs his Sig from the coffee table and checks the ammo. I pull my own from my belt holster and do the same.
The room is eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the heat kicking on.
“The back door,” I say quietly, gesturing with my chin towards the kitchen. “Just as we predicted.”
Webb nods. “It shouldn’t take too long for him to get inside. Maybe a minute or so.”