Page 34 of Deadly Hope
“Let’s just say I’ve chased my share of shadows.”
“Understood.” She ran her thumbnail over the grain on the table. “I wonder what will happen to Eileen? I hate to think he’d just leave his wife. They seemed so solid to me.”
From behind Olivia, Kenji caught his eye, jerking his head toward Zara who remained laser-focused on her screens. The medic raised an eyebrow. “Should we tell her?” he mouthed.
Their admission about breaking into Ben Prado’s phone records didn’t seem to shake the woman. In for a penny, in for a pound, as his nonna used to say. He nodded.
Kenji poked Zara in the shoulder. “Tell her.”
“Ouch!” The woman smacked him in the stomach, then caught Olivia’s eye. “Okay. So I may have slipped a tracker into the woman’s purse. Eileen Prado just jumped into an airport limo headed for the Reno-Tahoe airport.”
But instead of relief, Olivia gasped. “What if she’s been forced to go? What if?—”
“It’s a legit WitSec relocation,” Zara insisted. “Local traffic cam showed a glimpse of Ben Prado’s face in the passenger side mirror. He came back for her.”
Olivia hugged herself. “Nice.”
Yeah. About time for a win, even a small one. He gestured toward the kitchen. “Coffee? Sounds like we need to regroup, start fresh.”
Around them, the team was already refocusing. Zara and Kenji argued about new search parameters while Izzy started a fresh timeline on her tablet. Outside, the snow continued to fall, but it felt less ominous now, more like cover than threat.
Sometimes you had to get lost in the woods before you could find your way clear.
An hour and three pots of coffee later, adrenaline fading,they crashed. Brains, even highly trained ones, couldn’t rev high forever. Izzy was the first to recognize the glazed looks, the way everyone kept rereading the same documents without absorbing anything new.
“Time for plan B,” she announced, pulling a deck of cards from her go-bag. “When in doubt, fall back on tradition.”
“Spades,” she continued, dealing with the precision of longtime practice. “Traditional rules. None of that Kenji’s-special-sauce nonsense.”
“My rules are better,” Kenji protested, checking his phone for what had to be the hundredth time that hour.
“Your rules are chaos,” Deke countered, organizing his cards. “Like your fantasy football addiction.”
“It’s not an addiction, it’s an investment strategy.”
Ronan snorted. “That what we’re calling it now?”
While they bantered, Olivia observed quietly, obviously absorbing every tiny detail of their interactions. Occupational hazard, Axel had to figure.
But the dark rings beneath her eyes were not. She yawned, stretching carefully. “I’m gonna pass. I can barely keep my eyes open. Good night,” she called out and padded down the hallway to the first room.
It didn’t take five seconds for the familiar rhythm of the game to settle over Axel and his friends. Back in the day, they’d played this way countless times—in transport planes, desert outposts, safe houses. The cards were usually worn, the conversations well-practiced.
“Chantal got a part in the school play,” Izzy mentioned casually, laying down a queen. “First grade’s agreeing with her.”
“How’s she liking snow?” Axel asked.
“Loving it. Mom, not so much. She’s white-knuckling it every time she has to drive anywhere.” Izzy’s smile softened. “But she keeps saying it’s worth it, being away from ... everything.”
The team exchanged knowing looks. They’d all been there the night Izzy showed up at their barracks after hours, pregnant, bruised, and terrified, fully expecting to be kicked off the team.
As if they’d ever let that happen.
“UNICORN CANDY TEAM FOREVER!” Kenji suddenly shouted, making them all jump.
“For the last time, we are not letting a six-year-old name our security firm,” Ronan growled, but he was fighting a smile.
“Better than Strategic Whatever Whatever,” Zara muttered. “Which sounds like a government committee designed to bore people to death.”
