26. Easton
Easton
I’m tired, and it’s not even that late. But jet lag is kicking my ass, and I had one more bourbon than I probably should have down by the pool.
I need to try and get some rack time so I’ll be more useful helping out with the case tomorrow.
Which, of course, was the whole point of the mandatory relaxation time.
After a longer-than-normal shower where I spent most of the time remembering Gwen in that damn bikini, I put on my new black boxer-briefs—yet another reminder of Gwen, since she picked them out.
I shake my head, toss back the covers, and force myself to get in anyway. Rolling to my side, I set the alarm on my phone just as a group text pops up. Carter had originally started this thread earlier when our teams had split between my suite and Griffin’s.
Gideon: One of my men in Brisbane reached out.
He’s been surveilling both Bodhi’s parents’ and Patrick’s parents’ house.
Nothing yet, but a good friend of Bodhi’s was also former military.
Cooper was off grid on a private contracting assignment with him.
Cooper’s parents asked Bodhi’s if he knew where their son was, because he didn’t check in like normal.
Bodhi’s parents gave them the news they assumed he died on the island along with their son as traitors to their country.
Bodhi. Patrick. I stare at their names, memories of what I walked in on at the compound assaulting me all over again. Patrick, the dead guy I killed outside the door first. Then Bodhi, inside with his belt undone, bleeding out after I slit his throat . . .
The text might as well have resurrected the dead, because both men feel alive all over again. I did my best not to humanize them before now. Not to think of them as people with names, with families. Carter accidentally said Bodhi’s name earlier and once was already too many times.
And shit, if reading this news is giving me such a strong reaction, I can only imagine how Gwen’s handling this if she’s in her room alone.
Gideon: Just emailed you the transcript and recording he sent me from Bodhi’s parents’ house.
Julian: I’m adding Cooper’s face to our search to see if he’s ever come in contact with Jezebel in person, but my guess is Jezebel wouldn’t risk meeting with Cooper in person, either. And before you ask, no, we have no record of him being in Dubai or at the hotel there.
Gideon: My team in Brisbane is splitting up so they can also monitor Cooper’s family. We need to figure out how Jezebel recruited them to this off-grid project in the first place.
Julian: She had to have made contact somehow. I’ll keep digging.
Carter: Jezebel was careful with Wi-Fi and electronics on the island, right?
Suppose that question is for me. Zoey, too.
But something tells me she’s not going to join this conversation.
She didn’t earlier when the group text was initiated.
She’s been quiet and detached all day. Haunted by ghosts of her past and her guilt that her pursuit for revenge, in part, brought us here.
Though, something tells me if they hadn’t dangled the bait for Zoey to get us to that island, they’d have found another way.
I sit upright, throw the covers aside, and twist around to drop my feet to the hardwood before responding.
No cameras on the island. Nothing that could be tracked or hacked.
Carter: Jezebel wouldn’t have risked a digital footprint to hire these guys, then, which means it was an in-person job offer.
Someone else had to approach them. Find out who.
Give yourself a three- or four-month window.
The compound on the island was only activated the first week of December, right?
So the intel Molly provided Zoey indicated, yeah. And based on what I could tell when we arrived, that timeline tracks.
I exit the group chat and send Gwen a private text, worried about her.
You okay?
I give it a few minutes, and when no text or bubbles appear, I switch back over and play catch-up on the back-and-forth conversation. It’s mostly Gideon and Carter discussing next steps and theories.
An incoming call has me standing. Gwen. I tear a hand through my hair and answer, “Hey.”
“Sorry, I just got out of the shower. Still hiding out in my bathroom, but with the water running so Dad doesn’t hear me. He hollered through the door to wait to read the group texts until I’m with him and Natasha. I assume that’s why you messaged asking if I’m okay?”
I drop back onto the bed, resting my forehead in my palm as I hold the phone to my ear. “Yeah.”
“A lead?”
“A possible one from Gideon’s team down in Brisbane that ties to . . .” I don’t need to finish that line of thought. She’ll find out soon enough.
“Oh.” A soft little sound travels through the line. “Does that mean we don’t get to sleep?”
“No, you’re going to bed. That’s an order.”
“So bossy.”
Now I’m smiling. How is that possible?
“If there’s nothing I can do to help tonight, then I’ll listen to you.”
“There isn’t.” I drop my hand to my lap, sitting taller. “For me, either.”
“So, you plan to sleep, too?”
“I’ll try.”
“And are you already washed up and in bed?”
“Yes and yes.” I shift around, lie down, and prop my arm under my head in an attempt to relax. Hearing her soothing voice is definitely helping me do that. I’m also aware I’m ignoring the notifications that continue to ding over my phone from the group text, and I don’t care.
“Whatcha wearing?”
I grin as if she can see me. “Really asking me that, are you?” My voice drops an octave deeper than it should on its own damn accord, too.
“The Ralph Laurens or the Lululemons?” She’s searching for another distraction from the group texts and reality, and she just loves to get under my skin (and currently, my underwear) in the process.
“Lulu,” I confirm.
“Is that all you sleep in?”
“I don’t like being hot in bed.”
“Same.” The word is nearly drowned out by the water continuing to run in the background.
I’m not about to ask her what she plans to sleep in, even if I’m desperate to find out what she’s currently wearing (or lack thereof).
“Gwen?” I rasp.
“Yeah?” she whispers.
“You feel better now?”
“You know I do,” she says softly and without hesitation.
“Good.” I shut my eyes. “Go to bed for me, okay? Don’t even talk to your dad about those texts. Don’t read anything tonight. Your brain will get wired, and I need you to sleep.”
She’s quiet, then the shower water turns off. “I’ll behave.” I’m about to remind her that word isn’t in her vocabulary, when she adds, “Just for tonight.”
“Throw in a tomorrow for me, and we have a deal.”
She chuckles. “Don’t press your luck.”
“A guy has to try.”
She sighs and the small sound travels from my ear into my chest, filling the dull void there. “I’d expect nothing less of you.” She whispers, “Goodnight, E.”
I open my eyes, my heart rate picking up. “Goodnight, Gwen.”