Chapter 14
Io watched as Cal tried the door. It was secured, and he pulled out a small set of tools and picked the lock in seconds. She stood by helplessly, fighting the urge to run back to the car. Humiliation over her cowardice heated her cheeks. Way to show Cal she wasn’t a liability.
She hated how fast and efficient he was. Not because it surprised her—it didn’t—but because now the door was open, cool air conditioning brushing her skin, and she had no excuse for standing frozen on the threshold. They had to enter before a neighbor became suspicious.
Clenching her jaw, Io forced herself to follow him, stepping over the threshold and closing the door behind her.
No memories rushed back. No dread. No flash of familiarity. The two-story foyer was elegant, warm sunshine fighting the arctic air conditioning.
Her threat level eased from high alert to wary. Io looked around and saw Cal clearing the next room alone. Doing it solo put him at risk. She couldn’t stand by like some fragile maiden.
Io pulled her small pistol from its ankle holster. “Coming behind you. I’ll help you clear the house.” She might be walking a razor’s edge, but she damn well knew how to clear a room.
Cal’s frown told her exactly what he thought of that idea, but he nodded. “I’ll take lead.”
“Agreed.”
He was already in the family room; the dining room opened into it. When she stacked behind him, he went in, turning left. Io followed, taking the opposite corner.
“Clear,” Cal said.
“Clear here.”
“Moving.”
The butler’s pantry came next, then the kitchen.
That left the other side of the first floor—a master bedroom, a secondary bedroom, two bathrooms. No sign of anyone now, but Io wasn’t surprised by the bullet holes or the plywood covering the damage from the car her sister had sent flying into the house as a diversion.
She’d been briefed by Cal’s CO and Ayla had told her about it, too. She doubted she had all the details, but she knew enough.
Closing the door to the room with the hole to keep the bugs contained, they headed for the stairs. Cal glanced at her. Io nodded. Yes, she knew to stay on the ground level while he ascended. Yes, she could handle this. Yes, she was fine.
“Moving,” Cal said quietly.
Io covered his rear, keeping her focus on the lower level while he went up the stairs.
Cal reached the landing and paused, weapon up, body angled to cover the hallway. Io waited below, scanning the entry, ears tuned for movement. After a beat, he gave a low, “Clear,” and she moved, keeping two steps behind him.
The air conditioning blew upstairs too, but somehow it felt still. Silent. Too silent. The kind of silence that made her skin crawl. The hair on her nape lifted, and Io forced herself to focus.
Two guest bedrooms and a bathroom to the right. They cleared them first. Furniture in the rooms, but barren. They hit each room down the hallway, Cal leading, Io behind him. Another bedroom, this one with a desk and two small filing cabinets.
Fuentes still used paper?
Her heart thudded harder as they reached the second-to-last room. Cal went in, taking the left side. Io followed.
“Clear.”
“Clear,” she echoed.
“Last room,” Cal said as they approached the door.
Io knew this room. She knew it by the way her heart raced, the way her breath came too fast, the sudden heaviness in her chest.
“Are you with me, Thing?”
Io nodded, but it was tight. Mechanical. Her hand was steady on the pistol, but her breath wasn’t.
Cal didn’t press. He just stacked at the door, waiting for her to fall in behind him.
She did, struggling to stay sharp.
The door opened with a soft click.
And the room hit her like a fist. Sudden. Brutal. Stealing all her oxygen.
Shaking, she followed Cal even though every instinct screamed not to enter. She wouldn’t let him down. She wouldn’t put him at risk because she was having a panic attack. Io scanned her side of the room.
“Clear,” she whispered, voice choked.
She barely heard Cal announce his side was clear. Her gaze was locked on the bed—the rumpled blanket, the pillow with the indentation where her head had rested. Pale yellow walls. A happy color.
At least it should be.
The mattress sat on a wooden base. Faux beams crossed the ceiling. A lattice covered the large window.
Io began to shake harder. She didn’t argue when Cal took her pistol. Relief and humiliation tangled in her chest. She was in no state to hold a weapon.
That damn lattice.
She remembered regaining consciousness once? Twice? Trying to pull it off so she could crawl out the window. And it hadn’t budged.
Walking to the window, Io reached for it again and gave a hard tug. It stayed in place.
It wasn’t nailed to the casing, it was built in, crafted to last. No wonder she hadn’t been able to pull it off while drugged. She doubted she could yank it loose now.
“I couldn’t get out, Cal.” She turned toward him, but her vision blurred. “I couldn’t get out and I tried.”
Cal wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into the warmth of his body, holding her tight.
“You’re safe now, Wild Thing. I got you. I’ll always have your back.”
And as he pressed his lips to her forehead, Io felt her entire body exhale, like she’d been holding her breath since the day she woke up in this room.
Cal was impressed with the way Io pulled herself together. He was also impressed that she put her pistol back in its holster when he returned it. Too many people would have tried to tough their way through it, but she knew she was too shaky to hold a weapon and tucked it away.
Trusting him to keep them both safe.
He’d always known she was smart, but he also knew she could be stubborn. Today she hadn’t let determination overrule her brain. Yeah, she impressed him. Not because she was unshaken, but because she wasn’t pretending to be fine.
They were searching the room she’d been held in, looking for any kind of clue, but with the sparse furniture, they wouldn’t be here long. Good. Io was steadier, but she was still dealing with emotional fallout. They worked together to move the mattress off the pedestal. Nothing.
“I’ll go underneath,” Io said quietly. “It’ll be harder for you because of all those muscles.”
He didn’t smile, but something in his chest loosened at her teasing.
The wood floor made it easy for her to slide under the bed. Cal was too aware of the bullet holes in the walls of the bedroom. He’d gotten the report. The Russians had tried to take out Ski and Oz by shooting through the sheetrock. They’d wanted Io.
The thought of a ricochet hitting her while she’d been unconscious made something cold settle in his gut. At least she hadn’t been awake for that part.
Her blonde head popped out on the opposite side of the bed. “There’s nothing under the frame.”
“We should search the next room.”
“I’d like to hit that office,” Io said. “There were filing cabinets. As in Fuentes needed a place for papers.”
“We will search the office, but we have to be methodical or we could miss something.”
“Room by room, then?”
Cal nodded. “Come on.” He reached out and took her hand. “Let’s get the next one canvassed so we can go to the office.”
It didn’t take long to clear the second guest room.
A bed, a side table, an empty closet. He moved the mattress and Io slid underneath again.
She didn’t hesitate. Fear be damned, she was doing her part.
He checked the underside of the table. Nothing.
He took a second look at the closet—no point rushing and missing something—but it remained empty.
“Clear,” Cal said. “Now you can get your hands on the office.”
The desk had a surge protector below it, suggesting there’d been computer equipment here at some point. “Don’t be disappointed if there’s nothing to be found,” he warned. “You saw during our search that Fuentes cleared out everything important.”
“I know. Clothes, toiletries, personal items, all gone. But she was in a hurry. Haste can lead to mistakes no matter how skilled the operative is.”
Cal opened the top desk drawer. A stapler, a box of paperclips, pens—black ink, not blue—and a pad of sticky notes. No indentations on the top sheet.
The room itself was sparse—a bed, a couple of nightstands, a blackout shade over the window. Nothing that looked promising, but they’d have to check it all.
From the corner of his eye, he watched Io reach the first filing cabinet while he moved to the second drawer. Unopened toner cartridges. Two black, one magenta, one yellow, one cyan. His lips quirked. This was starting to feel like inventory.
“She cleared out the first filing cabinet. There’s not even a lost paperclip floating around,” Io said, disappointment tucked under the even tone.
He opened the final desk drawer. “The lost paperclip is in this empty drawer.”
What if something was taped to the bottom?
“Well, well, well, this is a surprise,” Io said.
“What did you find?”
“This filing cabinet isn’t an actual filing cabinet,” she said, triumph sparking. “It’s hiding a shredder.”
Cal pulled out the first desk drawer, turned it upside down, tapped the wood, then moved to the next. “It’s probably a confetti shredder.”
“Probably, but it doesn’t hurt to look.” Io pulled out the basket portion as Cal ruled out the third drawer.
Moving to the bookcase, Cal tapped the bare shelves, checking for hidden compartments.
“You’re right,” Io said. “Confetti shredder.”
He glanced over. She’d made a mess searching the basket. “Looks like Fuentes did a little shredding before she vanished.”
“Just a little,” Io said dryly, shooting him a grin.
The tightness eased in Cal’s chest. She’d smiled. His Wild Thing was coming back online, and the relief was almost overwhelming. He didn’t like seeing her scared. He didn’t like seeing her shaken. He preferred her kicking ass and taking names.
Some thudding noises drew his attention. Io was wrestling the shredder out of its cocoon inside the false cabinet.
“Do you need help?” he asked. She was struggling, but he knew better than to take over without an invitation.
“No, it’s not heavy. It’s just wedged in there tight. I got it!” Io lifted it out and set it on the floor.
Cal turned back to the shelves, but her next words stopped him.
“Holy shit,” she muttered. “Fuentes was in a hurry.”
He crossed the room. “What did you find?”
“Apparently she tore up the papers by hand before shredding them. This little baby missed the machine’s slot.” Io held up a fragment about three inches long, unevenly torn. Writing covered it.
“What does it say?”
“A la Sombra de la Misericordia Radiante.”
“In the shadow of radiant mercy? What the hell does that mean?”
“I don’t know, but if she tried to shred it, it’s important.”
“Looks like we’ll be doing some research.”
“What better way to spend the evening?” Io smiled again. Not quite totally normal, but getting there. “Let’s complete our house search. The odds aren’t great she missed anything else, but…”
“But we need to be thorough.”
Io nodded and slid the fragment into her front pocket.
They finished the room, then the house. Nothing else. But the one clue they did have felt significant. It was supposed to be shredded, supposed to disappear. Instead, it was evidence.
And somewhere out there, Fuentes had no idea she’d left a thread behind.
Cal’s jaw tightened. Io would pull on that thread, and it would drag her deeper into Fuentes’s orbit. Deeper into the kind of danger she’d barely survived once already. The thought made something cold settle in his gut.
He glanced at his Wild Thing and saw the fire back in her eyes—the fire he’d missed more than he’d ever admit.
Fuentes had made a mistake.
And the last thing he wanted was Io chasing her into that darkness again.