Page 4 of Fearless
Patrick chuckles. “At least she used the technical terms for all the specialized equipment we use out in the field. I’m sure we can outfit her with a whatchamacallit or two.”
Carter laughs. “As long as she gets to play with a couple of our toys, she’ll be happy.”
Jerry grunts. “Carter, you’re leaving yourself wide open for jokes with comments like that. You’re lucky we’re fine upstanding folks with a little self-restraint.”
Carter pinches his finger and thumb in front of his squinted eye. “Just a little, for which I’m grateful.”
Harper rears back, appalled that anyone would be making jokes at a time like this. As the youngest person in the room, she’s still probably one of the more mature people at the table. Ethan, Ben, and I are excluded, of course. I gesture toward the team and address Harper, “If you can’t laugh in the dark times, Harper, then this job will ultimately suck the life out of you. There isn’t a person here who isn’t going to give their all to find your father. Those who won’t be joining us on the trip will be working in the background and running all of the queries. You came to us because your father knows that we’ll get the job done, but I have to ask, why are you here? Why aren’t you working with Director Whitman and helping him find your father?”
Harper’s cheeks flush a dark shade of crimson as we wait for her answer. “As I mentioned to Ethan and Ben earlier, I don’t believe that Whitman and the agents he sent to investigate are on the right track. While I agree with Whitman that my father is likely being held to glean information, I don’t believe he’s in some foreign country.” She proceeds to give us details such as the drop of blood, the ransacked room, and her take on the FBI’s assessment. I jot down a few notes on my yellow legal pad.
“Okay. Whitman believes your father is being held in a different country, but you disagree. That doesn’t explain why you’re here, Harper. Is Director Whitman aware that you are coming to us for help?”
She shakes her head. “Not exactly. He’s sidelined me from the investigation, citing some regulation and claiming that I’m too close to the situation to remain objective. He also believes I could be kidnapped and used for leverage and wants me to be as far away from this as possible. He didn’t forbid me fromhiring Shining Knight for your investigative services, but chances are I’ll lose my job when he finds out.”
Ethan runs a hand through his hair while Ben stands up and begins pacing the room. Ethan inhales and exhales deeply several times before he speaks. “Harper, why didn’t you mention this thirty minutes ago? I told you that we are required to keep the FBI in the loop should we discover anything pertinent to the investigation.”
Harper’s voice becomes calm, but her fierceness and resolve are ever-present. “Nothing changes on your end, Mr. Knight. The only person who has anything to lose is me, and losing my career is nothing compared to losing my parents. I refuse to watch as a spectator while the FBI fumbles the ball when I know we’re capable of a touchdown. We won’t be obstructing any investigation, only chasing down different leads. Whitman knows my father had…has a soft spot for this team, so your help isn’t going to be unexpected. All I ask is that you keep my name out of it unless absolutely necessary.”
Ben grunts in displeasure. “Is there any other information you are withholding, Harper?”
“I’ve told you everything I know so far. Maybe Ethan can act as a liaison and find out more, but I’ve basically been cut off. I have officially taken a leave of absence for the next month so that I’m available to help in any way I can,” Harper declares.
Ethan smiles. “Well, it looks like there’s only one thing left to do, and I just so happen to be married to the woman who can make it all happen.” Ethan presses a button and says, “Amelia, how would you like to plan a wedding?”
Chapter three
Harper
There’s a knock on my hotel door at six o’clock in the morning, and without thinking, I grab the gun from underneath my pillow. No one in their right mind would dare wake someone up at this hour unless they plan on taking the person hostage.
I shuffle quietly to the door and place my ear against the thin piece of wood as I listen to the conversation happening on the other side.
“I can pick the lock in under twelve seconds,” Jessie says.
“I can pick the lock in under ten,” Savannah retorts.
A voice I don’t recognize says, “I can do it in under two. Jerry created a master electronic key that will short circuit the lock.”
Amelia giggles. “You three sound like you’re playing the spy version of ‘Name That Tune,’ only with lock picking. How about we just knock again?”
I can almost hear the pout in Jessie’s voice as she asks, “Where’s the fun in that? Harper had her chance to answer the door.”
I hear the tell-tale sound of the lock disengaging, and I reach for the doorknob to open it, giving them a surprise of my own. Three bodies fall into a pile on the floor. “What are you all doing here at this hour, and why?”
Jessie, Savannah, and the woman I don’t recognize are laughing as they try to untangle themselves. Amelia steps forward while several other women stand behind her. “We wanted to surprise you on your wedding day! We’ve got mimosas and presents! Now put that gun away so we can get this day started on the right foot.”
As the women file in, I excuse myself to go brush my teeth and run a brush through my hair. I’m half tempted to breathe my dragon breath on the ladies for waking me up so early, but I can’t quite bring myself to do it. They all look so excited to be here.
When I come back into the room, a woman with dark, luxurious locks, emerald-green eyes, and perfect skin hands me a glass flute filled with champagne and orange juice. “I’m Ariella Kent, Patrick’s wife.” She rubs her burgeoning belly and looks about ready to pop. I eye her glass, and she laughs. “Don’t worry. It’s just orange juice in mine.”
Ariella Kent is the princess of Cothena, a small island in the Mediterranean known for producing high-quality pharmaceuticals. “I’m not sure if I’m supposed to curtsey or not,” I say in all seriousness, unsure of the protocol for meeting royalty while still in my pajamas.
She waves away my comment. “We are all friends here and don’t stand on formality.”
Savannah comes up and rubs Ariella’s belly, bending downto talk to the baby. “We are going to be the best aunties you ever had, sweet girl. Even if your mom doesn’t treat you like the princess you are, the rest of us are going to spoil you rotten.”
Ariella’s laugh sounds like Tinkerbell and windchimes. “There definitely won’t be any shortage of love to go around.”
