Page 10 of Lost Hope

“No, we didn’t. Why would I be warning you? We’d be halfway to Mexico if we offed him.”

Terror for Tom. And for herself, swamped her brain. She couldn’t think.

“We need to get you out of here,” Quinn continued, his voice low yet commanding.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” That, at least, she knew.

Quinn made a frustrated sound. “The men who shot your partner are still watching. Black Audi, government plates. They’re waiting for orders, just like they waited for orders on Marcus. But they won’t wait long.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because if I had killed Benson, there’s no way I’d be talking to you right now.”

A very good point.

His voice carried that same assured competence she’d sensed at the condo. The kind that came from absolute certainty in one’s abilities. The kind her father possessed. The kind that usually preceded someone else getting hurt.

“Agent Chen. Maya. Listen. Please. I wish I had time to draw you a flowchart, but things are about to get insane. In thirty seconds, the men in that Audi are going to get those orders I mentioned. And then you’ll be dead too unless you do exactly what I say.”

Maya’s light caught Tom’s face, half-submerged. His empty eyes stared back at her, accusing. All those times she’d ignored her instincts in favor of procedure. All those times she’d refused to be her father’s daughter.

She’d built her career on being the anti-Lawrence-Chen. Following rules. Building cases methodically. Being everything her father wasn’t. But Tom’s dead eyes seemed to ask, “Where did all that careful procedure get you?”

Maybe that had been her real failure. Fighting so hard against becoming him, she’d forgotten why he’d broken all those rules in the first place. Sometimes procedure wasn’t enough. Sometimes justice demanded more.

Tom’s body bobbed gently against the pier. Another partner lost. Another failure to protect. She squeezed the cross until its edges bit into her palm, remembering all those Sunday mornings her mother had dragged her to church while her father worked cases. All those prayers that hadn’t kept their family together.

The harbor stretched dark and still around her. Dad’s voice one last time:Sometimes you have to choose between being right and being alive.

Time to choose.

Her mother’s words came to her:Sometimes faith means jumping without seeing the landing.

She had spent years ensuring she always saw exactly where she’d land. But Tom’s body in the harbor reminded her that sometimes you ran out of safe choices.

6

PROFESSIONAL COURTESY

Ronan crouchedin the shadows of a shipping container, watching the pretty NCIS detective. Thirty yards away, the black Audi idled behind a warehouse.

His jaw clenched. Ten minutes ago, they’d been following Benson’s SUV toward the naval base, a compromise that had seemed smart at the time.

Now another man was dead.

Three minutes into the drive, he’d spotted the tail cars. Professional. Military precision. He’d tried to catch Benson’s attention by flicking his headlights, but before Benson could react, the black Audis were already boxing in the SUV, forcing it down the road.

Their own pursuers had come fast and hard—three vehicles, classic Special Operations containment formation. The kind designed to trap and extract, not eliminate. He’d reversed the Jeep at full speed, smashing through their attempted roadblock. Two bursts of suppressing fire aimed high—another extraction tactic. Keep the targets down, don’t damage them.

Only when they’d broken free did he understand the full play. The team hadn’t really broken off pursuit—they’d herded him and Axel deliberately, trying to separate them from Benson.An NCIS agent would call in armed suspects fleeing the scene. Which meant Benson had to die quickly, buying them time to pursue their real quarry.

Clean. Professional. And now they had another dead body to add to their body count, another good man killed just because he was in the way.

By the time they’d ditched the Jeep and circled back on foot to help, they’d heard the shots. Seen Benson’s SUV trapped against the harbor fence, driver’s door open.

Too late. Always too late.

“They’re moving. North side.” Ronan tracked the Audi’s headlights as they flicked on. Chen was still standing at the edge of the water, above her partner’s body, weapon drawn. Too exposed.

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