Page 85 of Parker

“I’m Parker Fucking Collins, remember? It’salwaysabout me. I mean, I’m a genius with computers, so I must know what’s best for everyone in every situation, right? Syd, Homeland Security, Quinn…” He shook his head in disgust. “You were right, you know?”

“About…”

“When we first met, you thought I was an arrogant asshole, and you were right.” He broke eye contact with a shrug. "I was so goddamn sure my plan would solve all her problems, when really I was being a selfish prick.”

So fucking selfish.

“How the hell is offering that prick Reynolds five million dollars of your own money selfish?”

“Because I wasn’t doing it for her.” The tortured admission came as he met the other man’s gaze again. “As long as Reynolds was in her life, as long as the bastard was stillterrorizingher, our chances of starting any sort of future were zilch. So I thought…” Parker cleared his throat and tried again. “I thought paying the guy off would fix that.”

“Wanting to start a life with the woman you love isn’t selfish, Parker.” Asher’s expression softened. “You did what any one of us would’ve done. Hell, we’ve all fucked up where our women are concerned. Or have you forgotten the shit my entire team’s been through the past couple years?”

He thought about the men of Charlie Team. Of their women. Parker thought about the pain and terror they’d all faced at one point in the recent past.

Every man on that team had come damn close to losing their soul mates. He’d been there when a few had reached their breaking points, just like him. Had seen them so worn down—so fuckingdefeated—they’d nearly given up.

But Asher was right. He and his team…they hadn’t given up. Instead, they pushed harder. Worked faster. They put their fear and grief aside, doing whatever it took to get their women back.

And those same military-trained operatives were the same men working diligently to help him findhiswoman.

Quinn needs you. You can’t give up on her now.

“You can’t give up hope, Park.” Asher parroted his thoughts. “I know it’s hard as hell, but you’ve got to keep the faith, brother. Faith in us. In Quinn.” The man put a hand to one of Parker’s shoulders and squeezed. “In yourself.”

Parker stared back at his friend—his brother—and nodded. Because Ash was right. This wasn’t the time to give up. This was the time to fight. For Quinn…and the future he prayed they’d get the chance to create.

“Thanks, Ash.” He cleared the thick emotions from his throat. “I know you’re right, I just…” A rough swipe of his hand over his unusually rugged jaw. “I’ve checked every avenue I can think of, and I’ve come up empty.”

“What about Ryker?” Asher referred to RISC’s Homeland handler. “His team find anything that could tell us where Reynolds would be?”

No way was the timing of the attack and Reynolds’ escape a coincidence.

“Nothing.” The two men remained seated at Parker’s makeshift work station along the conference table’s front end. “CCTV caught the asshole in a beat-up car a few blocks from the prison a week ago”—the day Warden Pollard had determined to be the day of Reynolds’ escape—“but they lost him a mile later.”

“I’m going to assume you’ve checked out that footage yourself.”

“I did,” he admitted without remorse. “But I saw the same thing they did. It’s like the asshole vanished without a trace. So at this point, it’s going to take a fucking miracle to figure out where—”

As if designed by divine intervention, Parker’s computer dinged with a notification. Hopeful, both men turned, their attention drawn to the small rectangular message that had popped up on his screen.

“What’s that?” Asher leaned an elbow against the conference table’s edge to get a closer look.

But Parker was already reaching to click the dismissed MMO notification closed. “Nothing. Just someone in the online game I sometimes play wanting to send me a PM.”

He clicked his cursor on the tiny X, and the pop-up disappeared.

“You get those a lot?”

“Sometimes.” He shrugged. “People will send random messages to other higher-level players, wanting to either join their team, make a supply or weapons trade. Stuff like that.”

A low grunt was the only response the non-gaming man gave.

“So like I was saying…” Parker continued, “Unless Reynolds screws up and manages to show his face somewhere, I don’t know how the hell we’re going to find him.”

“And it’s not like he has credit cards we can track,” Asher agreed.

When another notification popped up—from a different username he didn’t recognize—he closed it as he spoke. “Exactly. Which means we’ve got nothing. And that’s not me being negative or feeling sorry for myself, Ash. We literally havenothing.”

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