Page 81 of Heartless

“So it was a success.”

“For a first strike, it was a rousing success.”

First strike. Yes. Because this group was much larger than a large drug cartel. Option Zero would continue to hunt them. They’d find the head of the snake and cut it off, as Ash had mentioned.

“When does our flight to Montana leave?”

“Change of plans. We’re headed to Arizona first.”

That surprised her, but it shouldn’t have. She had been putting off deciding what to do about Iris’s remains. She supposed it was time to make that decision.

“I was thinking cremation and then a—”

“No. That’s not why we’re headed back.”

“Then why?”

He told her about what he’d suspected and how he had been proven right.

“Why on earth would Iris have a microdot beneath her toenail?”

“Beats me, but if it was important enough for her to hide it, then there’s something on it we need to see.”

Her tired mind spun with questions. Was this intel Iris had stolen? If so, had it been for MI6 or the shadow group?

“We won’t know anything until we get it deciphered. Best to get some sleep. Our plane to Yuma leaves at two thirty.”

“You need some help getting set for the night?”

“No. Swelling has already gone down.”

She watched him rise from the bed and limp to the bathroom. She knew he was still hurting, but he was right—the knee looked a thousand times better than it had when they’d first arrived. He had lived with this pain for over two years. She would trust him to know when to ask for help.

She pulled back the covers and slid between the sheets. Ten minutes later, when she was just slipping into sleep, she felt him lie beside her. Without thinking about it, the movement as natural as rainfall, she turned and snuggled against his side, her head fitting into the curve of his shoulder, her hand against his chest. When he reached up and covered her hand with his, the ritual was complete.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Barely five hours after landing in Yuma, they were in the air, headed back to Montana. Since they’d detoured from their original departure plan, they were taking a commercial flight. A flight to Missoula had been taking off within the hour of checking for one, and he and Olivia had hightailed it to the airport. After settling into their seats, Hawke had barely heard the flight attendant’s announcements or the muted conversations among the other passengers. His mind was too focused on what they’d learned, and the new questions that had been raised.

When they had arrived at the holding site, he’d been prepared to bully someone into getting the information from Iris’s microdot. That hadn’t been necessary. The young tech genius had dived into the deciphering like a shaggy dog jumps into a swimming pool on a hot day. The young man had considered it an honor to pull intel from such an old-school device. The fact that it had come from the notorious spy Iris Gates had only made the job that much sweeter.

He and Olivia had walked in the doors, and the info had been waiting for them. Hawke didn’t know who had been more floored—him or Olivia. Iris Gates had always gone out of her way to be unpredictable, and she had once again achieved that goal. The information had been a treasure trove.

He reviewed the short history Iris had provided about the shadow organization. The Wren Project, as they now knew the entity was called, had been founded by Trenton Jefferson, a wealthy man from New York City who in 1922 lost his daughter, Wren, in a tragic accident. In his grief, Jefferson vowed to honor his daughter’s memory by devoting the rest of his life to altruistic pursuits.

For twenty-seven years, he had kept that vow. When he died, he had no other children, and the philanthropic foundation went to his nephew, who didn’t have the same altruistic nature as his uncle. Twenty-three years passed, and by the time the nephew died, the Wren Project no longer resembled what Trenton had created. By then, it was responsible for some of the most corrupt and dangerous events of the twenty-first century.

Following that brief explanation, Iris had listed fifty-three families, including many politicians and world leaders, and forty-nine companies and organizations with ties to the Wren Project.

Why had she given them this information? The woman hadn’t had a moral or selfless bone in her body, and determining her motives would be impossible now that she was dead. Maybe she’d intended to send them in the wrong direction, deliberately diverting their focus away from legitimate avenues they might have pursued. Regardless, they had no choice but to look seriously at the info she’d provided. Serena and her people should be able to determine its validity.

He glanced over at Olivia, who had been dealt an even more shocking blow. Along with all the intel, Iris had included a letter to her daughter. Olivia had read it several times already, and Hawke still didn’t know how she felt about what she’d read.

How did you react when a woman who should have been a caregiver, mentor, and role model revealed more truths than you’d ever wanted to hear?

Her face, pale beneath the slight pink that remained from the intense heat of the explosion, showed both shock and sadness. Her beautiful eyes shimmered with emotion, her lips trembling. It was all he could do to keep from pulling her into his arms and comforting her.

“You okay?” he asked.

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