Page 56 of Wired Courage

“Thought you might want a little welcome home party. I even brought my collection of The Walking Dead DVDs for us to binge-watch.”

An answering smile pulled Jake’s cheeks up into an unfamiliar curve, and this time it didn’t hurt. “That sounds perfect.” He took in her cute figure dressed in her workout clothes—short shorts and a sleeveless tee. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, babe.”

“I told you not to call me that.” Felicia’s smile faded. “Unless you were asking me out.”

“Sophie and I are not together anymore.”When would it stop hurting to say that?

“What? Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” Felicia’s eyes widened. The pizza box tipped dangerously, headed for disaster.

Jake lunged forward and caught the box. “It’s a long story, and it’s not pretty. You got time? I need to practice my spiel for the debrief with Dr. Kinoshita, and I’d love to catch you up.”

Felicia held up the six-pack. “What do you think this is for?”

“Then come on in.” Jake grinned as he unlocked the door. “Babe.”

Felicia shook her head. “Not funny, old man.”

But itwaskind of funny, and he was smiling—for the first time in days.

Chapter Forty

Day Thirty-Three

The crown prince of Thailand gazed up at Sophie from a wheelchair, his eyes circled by dark rings, his skin sallow and his lips ashy. He looked deeply ill, and Sophie’s heart squeezed with compassion as she dropped to a height to take his hand. “My Prince, it’s great to meet you. I’m your cousin Sophie. I have been living in the United States so we have not been able to meet before.”

“My mother told me that. I am glad to meet you, as well.” His hand felt chilly and limp in hers.

Six black-clad Yam Khûmk?n ninjas surrounded them. From the moment Sophie had shown up at the hospital, she had been surrounded by her own security detail of warriors. Clearly, the Yam Khûmk?n took their duties as guardians of the royal family seriously.

The heavyset woman who had been pushing the young prince’s wheelchair came forward, and Sophie straightened up and hugged her cousin, careful not to touch her elaborate headdress. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here to help, Your Majesty. I didn’t know your son was sick.”

“I told your mother at least two years ago that Bashar was having his first round of chemo,” the queen said, frowning. “He has gone through multiple rounds, and it is in remission—but as you may have heard it can do, the treatment’s wiped out his red blood cells. If this bone marrow transfer works, it could help rebuild his system.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Glad to help.”

“Your mother told me that you have had a child,” the queen said. “Congratulations!”

“Yes, I am very happy. I have a healthy daughter, Momi Tansanee. She is waiting for me, and that makes me eager to complete this process. I understand the whole procedure will take some time, and I will need a bit of recovery as well.”

“We are so glad we were able to meet you here so the transmission can be immediate. I can’t wait to see a little color bloom in my son’s cheeks.”

“Mama. You’re embarrassing me,” the prince complained.

Sophie shook her head, smiling. “My father still embarrasses me, Your Highness. Parents are just like that.”

A tall ninja with long, braided black hair, unusual because the rest of the warriors had shaved heads, walked over to them. Taller than the rest of the black-clad guards, he wore a whitegiand an aura of power. The queen inclined her head graciously as the man bowed from the waist, his hands folded. The prince smiled and extended a hand. “Master. You came.”

“Of course. I’m here to watch over you and this procedure, Your Highness,” the man said. Sophie took in the man’s well-built figure, his glossy braid decorated with jade ornaments, the simple leather slip-ons he wore. He turned toward her. Sophie blinked, surprised by his dark purple eyes.

“Sophie Malee. Your mother speaks of you often. I am pleased to meet you at last.” The man took her hand. His grip was cool and dry; hers was hot and sweaty.

Sophie nodded like a marionette, groping for words. “You must be the Master.”

“Yes.” His unusual gaze tracked over her face. “I see your beautiful mother in your face.”

Sophie’s chest flushed at the compliment, and her hand fluttered over the scar on her cheek. “You are too kind.”

Her heart gave a twinge of guilt and sorrow. Pim Wat had disappeared into the bowels of the CIA’s system, and she still didn’t know whether her mother had lived or died. She had no idea what kind of care the agency had provided her—it would be as good as they were able to give, because they wanted her alive. But would it be good enough?

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