Page 31 of Lost Hope

“Maya—” Christian started.

“Here’s his LAPD file,” Star interrupted, exchanging glances with Ethan. “Captain Lawrence Chen. And ... she’s right.”

Ethan nodded grimly. “Multiple commendations. And an equal number of official reprimands for creative interpretation of regulations. Known for, quote, ‘aggressive pursuit of justice regardless of jurisdictional boundaries.’”

Maya gestured impatiently. “Exactly my point. He’s going to come after me. And then bad things are going to happen. I have to head back. Sooner than later.”

“Not advisable,” Christian said flatly, his frustration evident. “These people got the drop on a SEAL team operator?—”

“Staged an elaborate suicide,” Jack continued.

“And killed a federal agent,” Axel added.

“While trying to take out two more SEALs, and another special agent,” Ronan finished. “This isn’t a twenty-four-hour fix, Maya. You go back now, you’ll die.”

The room fell silent. Maya’s jaw clenched, but Ronan could see the fear behind her anger. Not for herself, most likely. But for her father.

That’s when the idea hit him. This problem they could eliminate. “So let’s get your dad out of the line of fire.”

Maya’s eyes narrowed. “What exactly are you thinking?”

“Bring him here,” Ronan and Christian said simultaneously.

Maya’s jaw dropped. “My father. Here?” She glanced around the high-tech room, at the tactical gear, at the team’s focused faces. “You’ll hate that.”

Yeah. Ronan knew the feeling.

He watched Maya’s face cycle through a familiar range of emotions—horror, resignation, grim defeat.

Her dad sounded intense. But at least the man was a fellow professional.

If Victoria Quinn caught wind of this, she’d descend on Knight Tactical like a perfectly coiffed tsunami, armed with passive-aggressive concerns about her son’s life choices and suggestions for redecorating the tactical operations center.

He’d rather face down a raging terrorist. With a toothbrush.

“I’m not concerned.” Jack shrugged.

That drew a bitter laugh from Maya. “You should be.”

“Fair enough. We’ll consider ourselves warned. So how do we extract your father?” Jack persisted.

“I could call him,” Maya said slowly. “Try to explain?—”

Christian made a face. “And give him time to dig in his heels? Not a great plan. We need to move fast.”

“A direct approach might work,” Ronan countered, deliberately not looking at his brother. “The man’s law enforcement, he might appreciate?—”

“Straight talk won’t cut it,” Christian interrupted. “Not with someone this connected. He’ll start making calls, demanding answers?—”

“Because treating a decorated police captain like a hostile target is so much better?” Ronan’s voice had an edge now.

“Stop.” Maya’s command cut through their brewing argument. “You’re both right, and you’re both wrong.” She rubbed her temples. “My father ... he’s stubborn. Protective. The minute he suspects something’s wrong, he’ll launch his own investigation. And he won’t stop until he gets answers or gets killed.”

“So what’s your call?” Jack asked quietly.

Maya met his eyes. She looked like she wanted to throw up. “Black ops style grab. Quick and clean. No warning. Nodiscussion.” She glanced around the room. “I’ll reason with him once he’s safe.”

“You sure about this?” Ronan had to ask.

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