Page 13 of Girl Lost
Victoria Crew.
Except, no one dared call her Victoria unless they wanted a hard jab to the nose.
Tori whistled as Luna climbed out of her car. “Oooh whee! Look at you, girl!” Tori’s arms went out for a hug. “You’re lookin’ fiiiiiine, Mommie.”
Tori was a beautiful blend of Greek and Korean, but any time she set foot near the gym, her accent turned Puerto Rican. A token of her childhood upbringing in a foster home located in the Miami neighborhood known as Little San Juan.
Much like herself, Tori had always been a chameleon. Hard-nosed and professional when the situation called for it, but she could turn on the charm in a blink. It was how she was in the ring too. Coming at you hard and fast one minute, then loose and playful the next. It threw her opponents off trying to keep up.
Luna grinned and hugged her friend for the first time in forever. She stepped back and made a show of looking Tori up and down. “Whoa. Girl, you’re lookin’ pretty hot yourself.”
Tori flicked the ends of her hair. “Different, huh?” She’d added chestnut highlights and cut it shoulder-length with chunky layers, giving her a trendy, tousled look. “First time I’ve cut it in ... well,ever. You remember the waist-length black curtain, right? This is new, like, a few weeks new.”
“Beautimus.” Funny, she’d always envied Tori’s long black hair, but this new look? It had attitude. Just like Tori.
Tori’s wide smile lost some of the brightness. She clasped Luna’s hand and squeezed it. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”
Luna didn’t like the knot that formed in her stomach. She owed her friends an explanation, but now wasn’t the time. “I talked to Jett. Stryker was kidnapped and he said—”
“I know. Jett called right after he talked to you. Blade caught the case. Harlee and I already started investigating. Unofficially, of course.”
Tori started walking and Luna followed, heading for the entrance. Tori kept talking. “Jett can’t make it. He’s in some sort of sensitive intelligence-sharing discussion.”
Luna’s heart sank a little. Hearing Jett over the phone had her longing to see him.
Tori said, “Harlee’s using Jett’s software to sift through the data he’s sent. We’re waiting for something to pop.” She talked like Luna hadn’t been gone for years.
“And Stryker’s computer?”
“That was easy. His password is literally ‘password’ with the ‘at’ symbol for thea.” Tori rolled her eyes skyward. “Ay bendito. The man hasn’t logged in to that machine in weeks.” She pulled open the door and held it for Luna.
Inside, the familiar thuds of gloved fists striking heavy bags and the sharp aroma of sweat and musk brought memories crashing back. Nostalgia hit hard. Things were the same, but different. She glanced around the room, half expecting to see Stryker on the mat with his training pads up, taking punches.
“Bigger, right? A few years ago, Stryker did a massive remodel. We have triple the square footage. Finally added both training rings.” Tori gestured to the square boxing ring and a hexagon cagewith steel panels and vinyl-coated chain-link fencing for mixed martial arts fighting.
Wide-open ceilings exposed steel beams painted black to match the walls. On the second floor, a horizontal mirrored window looked out over the gym. Stryker’s corner office was gone, replaced by heavy bags of all shapes and sizes suspended from a rack made from steel beams. Treadmills, cardio, and weight-lifting equipment lined the wall on her right.
“Stryker turn this place into a fitness club?”
“Are you kidding? This is the place where fighters become warriors!” Tori flexed her bicep. Luna didn’t miss the baseball-sized knot that bulged out. “The men and women here are either in the Warrior program or they have a badge. Same as always.”
Stryker started the Warrior program as a mission to get delinquent kids off the streets and into the gym. Luna remembered how he’d marched into courtrooms, convincing judges that these troubled teens didn’t need juvenile detention, they needed structure. They needed purpose.
And so the program was born. Instead of sending kids like her to juvie, the courts began placing them with Stryker. His approach was simple yet effective. Martial arts training alongside law enforcement officers. Breaking down barriers one sparring match at a time.
Luna could still picture the separate dormitories he’d set up—boys on one side of the building, girls on the other. Those plain rooms had been the first stable home many of them had ever known. Including her. The rules had been clear. Finish high school, attend church services, and put in cleaning hours at the gym. No exceptions, no excuses.
But Stryker had given back more than he’d demanded. Food when they were hungry. Clothes when theirs had worn thin. A place to sleep when home wasn’t safe. For Luna, it had been the first time an adult had ever followed through on their promises. The first time someone had expected something from her and believed she could deliver.
They passed two sweaty men grunting and grappling on the floor mat and paused to watch. “That’s Chief Inspector Wilkins and Agent Jones,” Tori said.
“Wilkins has nice moves.”
“Another day I’d have you teach him a thing or two.” Tori elbowed her.
A few rounds of throwing a guy around could help clear her head, but she wasn’t here to relive her glory days. She’d come to do what CIA operatives did best. Recruit assets and collect intelligence. Even if that wasn’t her job anymore.
She jogged up the gunmetal gray stairs behind Tori. Their shoes clattered on each grated stair. They headed down a short hallway and hooked a right.
