Page 49 of Lost Hope

Ethan grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “See why I love her?”

His glaring attempt to lighten the mood fell flat, but Maya could have hugged him for trying.

Clearly oblivious to the subtext in the room, her dad clapped his hands together, shifting into his familiar “teaching stance”—shoulders back, chin lifted. “Good. So we’re moving now. Let’s dig into this guy’s message and move forward, people.”

She gritted her teeth, biting back a sarcastic remark. Adding more fuel to the emotional fire raging between Ronan and his team wouldn’t help.

Her father clapped again, that familiar gleam in his eye. “When I worked Narcotics, we used to leave signs for deep cover agents. Special codes?—”

The sharp contrast between her father’s too-cheerful voice and the room’s tension made Maya wince.

“Dad, this isn’t 1992. We can’t just?—”

“Actually,” he pressed on, “there was this one time in Hancock Park?—”

“When you single-handedly saved the city?” she muttered.

Ronan caught her eye across the room, his lips twitching despite looking like he’d just been punched in the gut.

But there was something else happening—something in the way his team watched him. Worry in Kenji’s careful observation.Anger in Izzy’s sharp retorts. Some undefined debt in the way Deke positioned himself, always between Ronan and the door. Like they were all carrying something heavy. Something that had to do with why their leader had let them down and then walked away three years ago.

Another mystery, she thought. But right now, they had to figure out how to answer Griffin’s breadcrumb trail before it went cold.

Maya watched Ronan trying to clear a wave of emotion from his face, saw the weight settle on his shoulders. And saw how his team—both teams—shifted subtly closer, holding him up without touching him.

“We need to be smart about this,” Ronan said. “Griffin won’t respond well to a tactical team descending on Santa Monica.”

Their eyes locked. Maya felt that now-familiar spark of attraction, tangled with irritation. “And waiting around while we debate this is better?”

“The Ghost spooks easy,” Izzy added, glancing between them with interest. “Trust me, you don’t want to see him riled.”

Maya stepped closer to Ronan. “My case, remember? My jurisdiction.”

They were almost toe to toe now, Ronan giving no ground. “And Griff isn’t some suspect you can just?—”

The soft squeak of tactical boots on polished floors echoed as people shifted positions, tension building in the room.

“Children,” Lawrence interrupted cheerfully. “If I might suggest?—”

“Dad, not now.”

“Lawrence, please.”

They’d spoken in unison. Maya felt heat climb her neck as Deke poorly disguised a laugh with a cough.

“The library’s public,” Star offered diplomatically. “We could set up surveillance?—”

“And scare him off completely,” Axel said. “Griffin’s not going back there anyway.”

“But he’ll be watching it,” Zara mused. “He’ll want to know who responds to his message.”

Maya could feel Ronan’s warmth, smell that hint of soap and gunpowder. It was distracting. Irritating. “So we leave our own message.”

“Using your dad’s old undercover codes?” The corner of Ronan’s mouth lifted.

She wanted to kiss him. Or punch him.

“Actually,” her dad said, “I was thinking something more modern. Something that would look innocent to anyone else, but Griffin would recognize ...”

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