67. Hendricks
HENDRICKS
Ashford's gates come into view, and every instinct I have tells me to turn the car around.
I study them, twenty yards ahead, my hand steady on the wheel, my expression neutral. Two armed men at the entrance. Another stationed beyond the gatehouse. Cameras covering both approaches. More security farther up the drive where I can't see them.
I know they're there. I spent most of last night making sure I knew exactly what we were walking into.
Every entrance. Every exit. Every blind spot. Every possible place Ashford could put a man with a gun.
I planned for all of it.
But I’m still going to check one more time. I tap the comms. “Status.”
“Set,” Jake says.
“Overwatch,” Mason confirms.
“Gate,” Luke says.
“Cameras are mine,” Harper chimes in.
“Ready,” Lily says.
“Stay that way, pretty girl,” Mason murmurs.
Next to me, Mandy snorts.
“I meant the med kit,” Lily explains dryly. “And before anyone asks, yes, I brought enough supplies for Luke.”
“Rude,” Luke says.
“Accurate,” Mason replies.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mandy tap her comm. “Sacrificial lamb reporting for duty.”
I glance at her. She’s wearing her usual tactical gear but her hair is in a twist, secured with a pin long enough to do real damage. I’m not used to seeing it up like that. Her neck is exposed. Long. Elegant. Distracting as hell.
Today of all days.
Everything's in place. Everything's ready. Everything except the part where I'm about to hand her over.
Exhaling, I slow down as we approach the gate. "Last chance."
Mandy keeps looking through the windshield. "You've said that six times."
"Five."
She smiles crookedly. "That is deeply Hendricks of you. But I think we should stick to the plan.”
I pull up to the gates of Ashford's compound.
An armed man steps out of the gatehouse.
Too late to change my mind, which is unfortunate, because my gut is telling me to put the truck in reverse and get her the fuck out of here.
Instead, I say, "Showtime."
Her smile returns. "There he is."
"Who?" I glance at the armed man waiting for us.
"The man who’s going to get me out of this."
“Count on it,” I promise.
The guard approaches my window. He gives me a once-over before his gaze shifts past me to Mandy.
I don't like the way he looks at her.
Apparently, my face tells him that because his attention returns to me. "Mr. Ashford is expecting you, Hendricks."
"I would hope so."
He steps back. "Step out of the vehicle."
Mandy reaches for her door.
"Stay," I say as I get out.
She looks at me.
The guard glares at me.
I stare steadily at him. "She stays in the truck until I say otherwise."
His grip tightens on his rifle.
Good. We understand each other.
The search is thorough. Weapon first. Then my phone. Keys. Wallet. Everything we expected them to take. Everything I need them to believe matters.
The guard holds out his hand. "Watch."
I take it off and drop it in his hand.
When he finds the wire, his eyes lift to mine.
I don't react.
He pulls it free and holds it between two fingers. "You expecting trouble?"
"I'm making a delivery to a man who surrounds himself with armed security. I plan accordingly."
“I’ve heard about you. Expected someone scarier.” He puts the wire on the table in the gatehouse.
Exactly where I expected it to end up.
"Turn around," he orders.
I do.
Another man searches the truck and then Mandy. I watch his hands.
She catches my eye over his shoulder. Behave, she mouths.
I wonder how well behave would go over if our positions were reversed.
“You can pick up your belongings on the way out.” The guard steps away. "Clear."
The gate opens.
I get back behind the wheel and Mandy climbs in beside me.
Neither of us speaks. We don't need to.
The truck rolls forward, and the gate disappears behind us.
“Still with me?” Jake murmurs in my ear.
“Clear,” I reply. The guard found what I wanted him to find.
“With my virtue intact,” Mandy adds, reaching across the console and laying her hand on my thigh.
Covering it with mine, I glance at her. "One last chance."
"Now it makes six." She squeezes my leg. "We finish this."
I exhale. "Yes."
The house appears through the trees.
The driveway curves through manicured grounds. Too open, no cover, designed to expose anyone approaching.
I tap the comms. “Security matches. Cameras every thirty feet. Motion sensors. Two at the main entrance, two on perimeter.”
“Copy,” Jake says.
Calling it a house is inaccurate. It's a monument to what happens when men have too much money and desperately need everyone else to know it. Stone. Glass. Steel.
And men with guns. I count seven before I park. Mandy counts too. I know because her fingers tap once against my thigh every time she spots another one.
Seven taps.
Good girl.
I kill the engine.
Neither of us moves.
For one second, I let myself look at her. Not Mandy Reed, the woman I was hired to find. Not the vigilante who dismantled Turner's operation one body at a time. Not the woman Ashford thinks I'm delivering.
Mandy. Amanda.
Mine.
The word comes so easily now. That should probably concern me, but it just feels right.
She reaches for the door.
This time, I let her. We get out together.