Page 69 of Girl Lost
He turned, a smile spreading across his face. A smile that reached his warm, dark eyes, eyes that crinkled at the corners. A neatly trimmed beard emphasized his strong jawline. He had the kind of face that could launch a thousand ships. Or sell a billion dollars’ worth of software.
“Luna? Holy smokes, is that really you?”
Jett. Of all of them, he’d always been the most sensitive, the one most likely to understand. To forgive.
“Hey, I thought you couldn’t make it.” She crossed the room, and he pulled her into a hug.
It felt good. Familiar. Safe. He smelled like sandalwood and success, a far cry from the skinny, nervous kid she’d known. But his hug was the same. A gentle squeeze, a warmth that radiated through her.
“Family emergency.” He stepped back, and his eyes searched hers. “I can’t believe it’s really you. It’s been ... too long.”
“Way too long.” She smiled. Not the practiced curve of her lips she’d perfected over the years. This was real.
“Well, sorry I’m late. Had to brief some important people on my updated intelligence-gathering software. You know how it is.” He gave Corbin a familiar hug and thump on the back, then gestured to the bank of monitors. “Harlee’s been keeping me in the loop, so I’m pretty well caught up.”
Harlee snorted. “More like I’ve been drowning him in data. But he seems to be handling it.”
“Speaking of handling it.” Tori sat on the corner of Stryker’s desk and picked up a rubber band, which she popped against her fingers. “How’s things going? Any progress finding Stryker?”
“We have a situation.” Corbin walked past Luna. His shoulder gently brushed hers, and she didn’t pull away. He eased into a chair. “We ran into some people who definitely don’t want us asking questions. This thing is way bigger than we initially thought.”
“You talkin’ about your ego again?” Blade strode into the room and patted Corbin on the shoulder on his way to greet Jett. Theyshared a quick handshake that turned into a hug with their hands smashed between their chests.
The gang really was all here.
Except Stryker. It had been too long. Way too long. The clock was ticking.
“So what did I miss?” Blade asked, turning to Corbin.
Corbin cradled his ribs with one arm and laid out their findings. The attacks at the skate park and the marina. The victims. The organ harvesting. Trinity’s possible connection. Each detail added another piece to a puzzle she wished they didn’t have to solve.
When he’d finished, the room was quiet save for the soft whir of the computer fans. Luna’s gaze traveled from face to face, noting the subtle changes in her old friends. Blade’s normally relaxed posture had stiffened, his shoulders drawn tight. Tori stretched the rubber band across her fingers. Harlee’s eyes had narrowed to slits, her arms crossed and held tight against her body.
Jett cleared his throat. “This is ... a lot to process.”
“Understatement,” Harlee muttered.
Blade exhaled, dragging a hand down his face. His eyes, usually warm with humor, had hardened to flints. “This is beyond anything we’ve dealt with before.”
“We need a plan.” Harlee’s jaw clenched. “How do we shut these lowlifes down?”
Harlee’s raw anger mirrored the heat building in Luna’s chest. These people had stolen lives, destroyed families. And for what? Profit?
“We form a task force,” Corbin said. “Pool our resources, our skills. We treat this like any other high-level operation. Just ... off the books.”
“Off the books? Why?” Blade narrowed his eyes at Corbin.
“Commissioner Tinch is trying to keep a lid on this. He wants these people stopped, but he’s tying my hands by refusing interagencyhelp. I think grief is clouding his judgment. Since this seems to be tied to Stryker, I figured you’d all be willing to help.”
Silence.
Corbin looked at each of them. “I need your help. All of you.”
Luna waited. Like she was watching a play unfold from the back row.
“If you need us, we’re there.” Blade looked at the others, and they agreed.
“Thanks, I appreciate it. But don’t put your jobs on the line. Prioritize your other cases first.” Corbin glanced at Luna. She caught the subtle bob of his Adam’s apple.
