Page 104 of Lethal Vengeance
When Raider went to grab her for dinner, he could hear her crying, but when he entered, the laptop was closed.
Quinn didn’t join Sterling and Gabriel for bath time last night. For the first time since she arrived, she skipped it.
Cruz sent an encrypted message last night on our private channel. The tip is valid. He’s tailing Rodrigo through Texas right now.
With a grunt, I get up and head to the gym. Might as well get an early start.
The gym is the one place I can let all my aggression loose. There’s no politics or agenda. It’s pure physical energy. Releasing it here helps me stay even-keeled the rest of the time.
I check the regimented schedule for today’s workout. Arm day. I pick up the dumbbells and start with the triceps. The repetitions get increasingly harder, but I continue until I hit fatigue. Then I start with a different exercise and muscle. Then another. An hour later, I wipe my face and set the weight in my hand on the floor.
I’m mixing a smoothie in the kitchen when Raider comes down.
“Quinn’s not back,” he informs me.
I set the glass on the counter and pick up my phone. There’s been no activity since she reset the alarm at four.
“Text Sterling and let him know. I’ll grab my keys,” I yell, sprinting down the hall to my bedroom. Once I have my wallet and keys, I head straight to the garage, knowing Raider’s already there waiting.
The garage is open, and he’s sitting impatiently in the SUV.
“Do you know what route she takes?” I ask, backing out of the garage.
“She said she usually runs to the gate, then takes a side road farther into the neighborhood,” he says, his eyes peeled for Quinn.
“The gate’s coming up. Right or left?”
He closes his eyes. “Right.”
Raider strongly believes in following your gut. His is usually right, too.
The sun is cresting the horizon when we spot her sitting on the side of the road massaging her calf.
We pull up beside her and get out. “What happened?”
She makes a face. “Cramping. I pushed too hard. Here, help me up.”
Ignoring her comment, I squat down and pick her up. My arms quiver for a second, making her squeak. “If I’d have known you’d need rescuing today, I would have skipped arm day. Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Muscles are just a little fatigued.”
Raider opens the back door, and I slide her inside. He gets in after her and props her leg up on his lap.
When we get back, I carry her inside and sit her on the couch. “I’ll get the salt and Gatorade.”
“Salt?” she repeats.
I walk into the kitchen to grab the items for her. “Usually, a dime size amount will make the cramps disappear, but you might need a little more this morning. It’s a trick my father taught me before I went into basic training. I’d grab salt packs from McDonald’s and other fast-food restaurants and carry them in my pockets. The other guys thought it was hilarious until they tried it.”
She winces. “I’ll try anything to get the cramps to stop.”
I hand her the Gatorade. “Hold out your hand, palm up. Cup it a little more. That’s it. We’ll start with a dime and see how it goes.” The white crystals pile into her hand.
She raises her hand, but I stop it.
“Probably best to lick your finger and dip it into the salt. The taste isn’t the best, but the Gatorade should help.” Licking my finger, I demonstrate my instructions.
She licks the salt off her finger and grimaces. “I see what you mean.”
Raider yawns and stretches. “You left pretty early this morning. How many miles did you do?” His tone is nonchalant, but I can see the simmer in his eyes.
