Page 69 of Lost Hope

HIGH WIRE

Maya’s handsshook as she adjusted her scratchy polyester scrubs, already damp with sweat in the August heat. The badge hanging from her neck felt like a noose—“Angela Sanders, Lab Assistant”—complete with her photo altered just enough to match her current appearance.

“Run it one more time,” Jack said, studying the clinic’s layout on his tablet. “Everyone clear on why Maya’s going in?”

“Because I’m the least valuable in a tactical situation,” Maya said dryly.

“No.” Ronan’s voice was sharp. “Because we need our combat-trained operators positioned for rapid response if this goes sideways. You’ve got the investigative experience to know what we’re looking for, but Christian and Kenji need to be free to move if you need extraction.”

“And I’ve got their surveillance feeds on a continuous loop,” Ethan added from behind one of his multiple laptops. “No one’s going to see any faces we don’t want them to see.”

Christian nodded. “Maya finds what we need. We stay ready to get her out. Clean and simple.”

Simple. Right. Maya pushed her fake glasses higher, the unfamiliar weight strange on her nose. The thick headbandpulled her hair back severely, making her face look smaller, more uncertain. Perfect for the role of nervous junior lab tech. Her heart hammered against her ribs—method acting at its finest.

“Run the entry sequence again,” Ronan said beside her, his voice low and steady. Even confined to the van, he radiated contained energy. Maya caught the slight wince as he shifted, though he tried to hide it.

“Enter through the staff entrance,” she recited, fingering the lanyard. “Badge in, check my phone like I’m confirming directions.”

“Good. Then?”

“Follow the route Star mapped out. Second floor, east wing. Records room.” Her voice caught. “Pretty different from serving warrants with LAPD.”

“That’s why you’ve got us.” Jack’s voice was reassuring. “You find the evidence, we handle the rest.”

“And that’s why I’m stuck in this stupid van,” Ronan muttered.

“Team Two in position,” Christian’s voice crackled through their earpieces. “Security’s light—one guard at reception, one patrolling. Kenji and I are ready at the north entrance to create a distraction, if needed.”

“Cameras looped,” Ethan confirmed. “You’re clear, Maya.”

“Remember,” Kenji added, “if anyone questions you, you’re covering Jessica’s shift. She’s out with food poisoning. All the details are in your phone if they ask.”

Maya nodded, throat tight. Ronan’s hand found hers, warm and callused. The simple touch steadied her more than she wanted to admit.

“Jack, we’re ready,” he said.

“Green light,” Jack’s voice came through. “Maya, you’re up.”

She reached for the door handle, but Ronan kept hold of her hand. “Hey.” His voice was soft, just for her. “I’ve got your back. We all do.”

“Thought you were staying in the van,” she managed a weak smile.

“Close enough to get to you if needed.”

“But not as close as he’d like to be.” From the back of the van, Izzy muttered to Axel, “They’re not fooling anyone.”

Maya felt heat creep into her cheeks, but Ronan just smiled—that rare, genuine smile that transformed his whole face. “Go show these Special Forces boys how LAPD gets it done.”

She stepped into the suffocating heat, letting her shoulders curl inward, making herself smaller. Less confident. Her sensible shoes scuffed against sunbaked concrete as she approached the staff entrance, while behind her, the weight of her team’s presence felt like armor.

Maya swiped her badge with deliberate hesitation, letting out a small breath when the light turned green. The blast of AC hit her as she entered, raising goosebumps on her sweaty skin. Inside, the clinic had that universal medical facility feel—linoleum floors, fluorescent lights, the sharp bite of disinfectant.

She fumbled with her phone, the way Star had coached her. New employees always checked directions, double-checked room numbers. She’d seen it countless times during investigations—the way uncertainty made people smaller, less noticeable.

“Guard at the desk is streaming the Dodgers game,” Christian murmured in her ear. “You’re clear.”

The elevator doors opened with a tired ding. Maya stepped inside, pressed two, and used the moment alone to steady her breathing. Not so different from undercover work with LAPD. Except for the team of Special Forces operators backing her up.

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