Page 45 of Lost Hope

“Yeah?”

“You ever go dark on us again, I’m tracking you down and replacing your brake fluid with maple syrup.”

Despite everything, he felt his lips twitch. “Understood.”

He ended the call, looking up to find Axel watching him. His friend raised an eyebrow.

“They’re in?” Axel asked.

Ronan nodded. “They’re in. And apparently going to torture me with ABBA and maple syrup if I disappear again.”

“Sounds fair.” Axel checked his phone. “Deke’s already praying and making calls. Kenji’s pulling hospital records.” He paused. “Still no luck with Ghost’s back channels.”

“He’ll surface,” Ronan said, hoping he was right. “He always does.”

Hearing Deke was already praying brought a familiar twist of ... something. Envy? These people, his old team, had held onto their faith through everything. Even Tank had never lost that quiet certainty. While Ronan ... well, he’d lost more than just his team that day.

“Yeah.” Axel didn’t sound convinced. “Team meeting at eighteen hundred. Want to hit the range? Work off some of that tension?”

He shot his friend a weak smile. “Nah. I’m good. Thanks.”

Axel headed for the stairs. “You’re smarter than I am. I’m sure I’m gonna regret sharing range space with a legend like Lawrence Chen.” He stilled, gaze far away. “I think I’ll opt for plan B.”

“Which is?”

The man grinned hard. “The range is in the far hangar, right? Looks like I’ve got to head straight past the airport terminal to get there.”

Understanding dawned. “DreamBurger.”

“Exactamundo. You want me to bring you something back?”

A tempting offer, under other circumstances. Right now, Ronan knew he wouldn’t be able to choke down a thing. He waved his friend off.

Once alone, he stared at his phone, the echoes of those conversations still ringing in his head. The anger he’d expected—deserved—had been there, but underneath it was something else. Something that felt like family. Like the fine group he’d walked away from three years ago.

He thought of everything he’d missed, everything he’d hidden from. And now Tank was gone. Tank, who’d tried to reach out so many times, who’d never given up on him even when he’d given up on himself.

The weight of his failure pressed against his chest, but this time, instead of crushing him, it strengthened his resolve. Tank had died trying to expose something. Something big enough, dangerous enough, that someone had decided to silence him permanently. But they hadn’t counted on this—on a team coming back together, on bonds that ran deeper than time or distance or silence.

Maybe there was something to be said for faith in something bigger than yourself—whether it was God, or family, or justice. Tank had believed that. Maybe it was time Ronan started believing in something too.

He pictured his friend’s easy smile, his solid presence, his unfailing loyalty. Whatever his friend had discovered, whatever had gotten him killed—they would find it. All of them. Together.

For Tank.

Re-energized, and ready to flee the ghost of his dead friend, Ronan headed for the stairs. Thrashing himself in the gym might be just the thing he needed to sharpen his brain for the upcoming fight.

22

DIGITAL GHOSTS

Ronan staredat the data spread across the command center’s displays, his mind working to connect the dots. In the six hours since Star and Ethan had broken into Tank’s private cloud storage, the picture had only gotten darker. Fifteen veterans dead in eight months. All recently treated at VA facilities in Southern California. None with life-threatening conditions.

Tank must have contacted Griffin—Ghost—for help investigating. Those two had always been close.

Marcus had tagged them all. The accountant who’d driven off a cliff on Mulholland Drive. The retired Marine who’d supposedly shot himself cleaning his gun. The Army nurse who’d drowned in her pool. The Air Force tech who’d had a “heart attack” while hiking. The rest, all seemingly healthy vets, who simply ... disappeared.

Too many coincidences.

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