Page 79 of Finding Fate

All breathing and brain functions cease to exist.

"Breathe, Pops. I'm just giving you a hard time. Come on, I'll make you some pancakes."

The second he's out the door, I whisper the response I wanted to give. “Yes, please.”

**

SATISFIED THE CORDSare connected correctly and the last one’s plugged in, I sit back and hit the power button. As the machines whir to life, I turn to Nash on the bed where he’s mindlessly petting Dobby’s soft head while he snores sprawled out along the comforter. He and Mac spoiled Dobby rotten while I was gone, it appears. Nash's eyes flicker open, gives me a shy grin before closing them once again.

How adorable is he? The second breakfast of the day was just as good and just the same. Eggs, bacon, and pancakes really are the only thing he knows how to make outside frozen dinners and pizza.

I shift around, trying to get comfortable, but the wooden armrests of the too-stiff chair dig into my sides. And it doesn't swivel. Double boo.

Staring back at the screens, I sigh with a smile. Here’s where I belong—in front of a computer doing what I do best. Here, I can do anything and help anyone. Which reminds me....

With a quick glance to Nash to make sure he's still asleep, I run a quick search on Liza.

It's easy if you know where to look. Find Liza by Nash, find birth records by finding Liza, find Mya's birth father’s name by downloading the birth certificate. From there it only takes ten minutes to find the douchebag and his bank accounts. I scowl at the large number flashing on my screen. "Deadbeat prick," I whisper as I transfer sufficient funds from one account to another, then to another untraceable account before moving it to Liza's.

Is this money laundering? Eh, I work for the FBI. Plus, it's not for me but for them. Once the confirmation pops up on the screen, I smile and reach for my snacks. My nonexistent snacks.

I can’t work in these kinds of conditions. Bad chair, no Twizzlers, no caffeine except coffee? Not going to happen.

"Do you have any strawberry Twizzlers lying around?" I ask with a half groan, half whimper to the ceiling.

"Hmm?"

I glance back to the bed, finding his eyes closed, hand stilled on Dobby’s round belly. With a soft laugh, I push out of the uncomfortable chair and stand beside the bed. Those brown eyes flutter open and a lazy smile spreads across his lips.

"Sorry." He yawns with a big stretch. "You're boring."

Staring down at him like this, something about the angle sends me back to our last day together in Africa. My fingers itch to touch his face like I did that day. Instead I ball them into tiny fists and shove them into my jacket. "You were so sick," I whisper, still staring into those soulful brown eyes. "I felt so helpless and scared. It was selfish, but I didn't want you to leave me because I'd be alone and I'd...." Shaking my head, my request for caffeine and sugar no longer priority, I turn back to my chair but he wraps a hand around my wrist.

I don't turn.

"You'd what?"

With a shrug, I draw courage to turn and face him. His other hand tucks behind his head, offering a great visual of his toned, inked bicep. "I don't know. Open up, I guess. Everything we talked about, what I told you, it meant something to me and I didn't want it to go. Didn't want you to go." After a few beats of silence, I whisper, "Didn't want you to leave me too."

"It meant something to me too, Pops. It meant more than you've realized." A thumb draws tiny circles along my tender skin.

The ping of an incoming call makes his hand drop to dig into the front pocket of his jeans.

"Yeah," he sighs into the mouthpiece. "This better be good, because you are interrupting something. Okay, so what does... no, she's here. What does he need... Why not the CIA? Bastards, right.... Loaded, and I'll get her one too.... No, but I'll show her. Let me know when you have an update." The phone falls to the bed, stirring Dobby who gives Nash an annoyed look for disrupting his sleep.

Instead of filling me in, Nash shuts his eyes with a smirk.

My hands come up to my hips as I wait. "You're not going to tell me?"

"Got it covered, but we do need a hint to who the person tracking you is. It would really help my boy Rocky out. So go work your magic. Then we can talk."

"I need a Coke, strawberry Twizzlers, and milk."

"That’s disgusting." He grimaces, but a small smile tries to creep up his cheeks. "Either way, I'm fresh out of Coke and Twizzlers, of any kind."

"I can't work without them. Can you run out and—”

"No. Not leaving your side."

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