Page 26 of Saving Their Forever

“Of course. I am not a monster. Unlike you,” he says, flipping the camera around. He’s a good looking guy. Full head of black hair, neatly trimmed beard, but yellow, crooked teeth. I’m going to pull them all out. One by one. With a rusty pair of pliers. Then make him swallow them.

“I want your word.”

“You have it. As soon as you are secured next to your men, my brother Hadi will take your wife to the nearest hospital. We will do for her what you did not do for all those who died that day.”

The screen goes dark, and I throw the phone across the room. It hits Pixel’s dog bed and bounces. Before I can stalk over to pick it up, it rings again. Ford’s name flashes across the screen.

“Pritchard’s trying to get a list of the victims from that apartment building collapse,” he says before I can get a word out. “If he can, we might be able to identify these assholes. Our plane lands in four hours?—”

“Don’t,” I snap. “We know who they are now. But that won’t help. They have Dax and Rip. They want me—all three of us—to die. They’re taking Wren, Dax, and Rip to Fort Worden. It’s an abandoned military installation outside of Port Angeles. You won’t make it in time, and two more people isn’t going to make a goddamn difference.”

“We will make it in time because Austin just happened to be in Boston. He also pulled a fucking miracle out of his ass and got us the fastest plane on the east coast. And you’re an idiot if you think there are only two of us on this plane,” Ford says. “This is Wren. And Dax. And Rip. And you. Hell, it wouldn’t matter if it were any of your people, asshole. Or any of ours. We’re not ‘two more people,’ we’re seven. Trevor, Ella, Clive, Ronan, Vasquez, me, and Austin. It’ll be nine by the time we get there. Griff is on his way from San Diego, and Connor lands in ninety minutes. He was in Denver on a quick overnight.”

I stagger back until I hit the recliner, then sink down when my legs won’t hold me. Everyone. All of Second Sight. All of Austin’s group—whatever the hell he’s calling it. Everyone.

“Like you remind people on the regular, Ryker, we’re family. You’ve done the same shit for every single one of us over the years, and even after that baby is born, I’ll bet money you’ll still risk your life for any of us. Hell, I expect to see you running workouts with the kid strapped to your chest in under six months. She’ll be able to make it up the climbing wall before she says her first word.”

The image of our daughter climbing up the wall, her red curls bouncing, a big grin on her face, hits me so hard, I can’t breathe. I press my fist to my chest, wondering how I can see her so clearly when she hasn’t even been born yet.

“Ford?” Royce takes the phone from my hand. “Ry’s…in shock. Not quite s-sure what t-to do about it, but if he doesn’t snap out of it in the next t-two minutes, I’ll whack him over the head with one of the couch cushions.”

“Asshole,” I grit out. “I’m right here.”

“That’s better.” Royce drops the phone in my lap and returns to the tablet.

Wren’s laptop is on the coffee table in front of me, open, with the screen locked. Will she ever get a chance to use it again? Or will I be staring at it for the rest of my life, convinced I didn’t do enough to keep her safe?

“Just…get here,” I manage. “I don’t know what the plan is. West is still at the medical center. But…”

“Someone will let me know. Good enough for me. We’ve got your back, Ryker. All of us.”

All of us.

* * *

Inara

A pair of No Parking signs bar the entrance to the garage.

“Well, that’s not suspicious at all,” Graham says as I pull into a loading zone.

“There’s an SPU placard under the seat. Grab it and slap it on the dashboard. It’ll stop us from getting towed.” I shut off the engine and glance around. “This is Seattle in the middle of the day. How are there so few people here?”

“I saw a couple of detour signs a couple of blocks back.” He checks his Glock 19 and pulls his black cap lower over his eyes. “There’s only one entrance to the garage. We going in together?”

“No one goes anywhere alone until this shit is done. Stay in sight.”

“Gotcha. I’m on your six like glue.”

The kid—he’s hardly a kid, though I have at least six years on him—waits for me to approach the No Parking sign. It’s an official Department of Transportation unit, but there’s no notice of any permits or work being done. The garage is well lit, except for one dark corner across from the interior door.

Graham pulls out his flashlight and sweeps the beam across the space. “Fuck. That’s Cara’s car.”

“Clear the area first. Don’t get sloppy.” We part, Graham going left while I take the right side of the structure. It’s completely empty. No other cars, but… “You hear that?”

“Charlie.” We draw down on the sedan. The dog barks twice, then whines, then barks again. It’s like a signal on repeat. “It’s coming from the trunk,” Graham says.

If they hurt the dog…

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