Page 52 of Lost Hope

“The perks of private sector work.” Austin grinned.

“Got something.” Zara’s voice cut through the chatter. Kenji moved to peer over her shoulder. “We’ve been running current VA medical records in Southern California against Marcus’s flagged cases ...”

“These test panels.” Kenji leaned closer, sandwich forgotten. “They’re ordering the same specialized bloodwork. Hormone levels, genetic markers—” He broke off, face darkening. “Every victim had these tests ordered within two weeks of their deathor disappearance. And forty-eight hours after the tests, they were gone.”

“Same labs?” Maya asked.

“Different facilities, same protocols.” Zara pulled up more files. “And ... wow. Two new matches. Tests ordered yesterday.”

Ronan felt his stomach drop. “Where?”

“Ventura VA clinic. A male.” Her voice tightened. “And Long Beach. A female.”

“Identical panels.” Kenji’s medical training showed in his precise terminology. “And none of the tests indicated by their presenting symptoms.”

“Why?” Christian pressed.

“That’s the ten-million-dollar question,” Kenji finished quietly.

“Alright,” Christian said, pulling up a map. “We’ve got three priorities and a ticking clock. Two potential victims and Griffin.”

Zara bit her lip. “That’s at least two hours between facilities.”

“Which means we split up,” Ronan said. “Two rescue teams, one contact team.”

“I’ll coordinate from here with Star and Ethan,” Zara said. “We’ll monitor all channels, keep everyone connected.”

Jack studied the map, years of tactical planning evident in his quick assessment. “Kenji, you’re with Austin in Ventura.”

“Deke, Izzy,” Jack continued. “You’re with me in Long Beach. Place is way bigger, and way closer to lots of law enforcement. Better that we have a three-person team. The helo’ll be fueled and ready in fifteen.”

Izzy’s eyes lit up. “That Agusta on the pad? Sweet.”

“Try not to modify our helicopter mid-flight,” Christian said dryly.

“And us?” Maya asked quietly.

Christian’s jaw tightened. “You, me and Boy Wonder here are going ghost hunting.” His tone suggested he wasn’t thrilled about the arrangement.

Axel cleared his throat. “I should stay here too. Help coordinate.” His meaningful look told Ronan he’d keep an eye on both teams, watch for patterns they might miss.

And avoid a dreaded helo flight.

Ronan felt Maya’s presence beside him, that mixture of attraction and wariness that seemed to define their relationship. Now they’d be working together, no buffer, no distractions.

“If Griffin’s watching the library,” she said, “we need to move fast.”

“Yeah.” Ronan watched his teams gear up, falling into familiar patterns despite the years apart.

“Hey,” Izzy called from the door. “Try not to disappear on us again, yeah?”

The words were light, but they hit like a punch to the gut. “Not this time,” he managed.

“Three targets, three teams,” Jack said, studying the map. “Two potential victims and Griffin’s breadcrumb trail.”

Maya’s dad stepped forward, face set like a bulldog. “I’m going with my daughter to Santa Monica?—”

“No.” The response came from multiple voices.

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