Ash Storm (Chimera Force Book 2), page 16
Carrie shook her head. “No, but we did a bit of research, and it appears he’s the sole beneficiary of a company called Pemberley Limited, incorporated in the British Virgin Islands.”
“What does Pemberley Limited do?” Alexia asked.
“Not much, but it owns real estate all over the United Kingdom, including an estate in Wiltshire.”
“And where the fuck is Wiltshire?” Rogue asked. “What?” He said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m Australian. UK geography is not my forte.”
“Wiltshire’s a short drive away from Bristol,” Thorne said from the doorway. As always, he was impeccably dressed in a white shirt and dark slacks, though his bloodshot eyes told her he hadn’t been sleeping.
“Thorne. Where have you been?” Dark asked.
“I rushed back to tell you something you apparently already know,” Thorne said, carefully avoiding the question. “Good job, by the way,” he told Carrie and Pascale.
Carrie clicked a couple keys, and a picture appeared on the wall, of an enormous Victorian country house, complete with turrets, what must be a dozen chimneys, and more windows than Reka could quickly count.
Reka shivered. And she knew—rationally—that a building couldn’t be evil, not in and of itself. But human endeavors could and did color buildings, and country houses like this one were expressions of wealth, power and privilege, in a way that time couldn’t erase.
Or maybe that was just her knowledge of Afsan coloring her feelings.
“Is that …” Her mouth was suddenly dry, the two fajitas she’d eaten rolling around inside her belly. “Is that where Chloe is?”
And even though Ash didn’t look in her direction, she could feel his strong, solid presence next to her.
Lending me his strength.
“We rattled him enough to get him to leave Turkey,” Griffin said. “That means something. But we can’t assume he was in the jet, and we can’t waste time running off to Wiltshire if he isn’t.”
“We need to get satellite imagery on that estate,” Rogue said.
“Can you do that?” Slate asked.
“Not by myself. I’m going to need some help.”
Reka took a deep breath.
“My uncle can help.”
A long instance of silence met her words, and she got the feeling they still didn’t know who her uncle was.
Even though they work together.
“How can he help?” Griffin asked.
“It’s complicated,” Thorne said.
Reka ignored him.
“My uncle advises the president.”
“The president?” Ash asked quietly. “As in, the president of the United States?”
31
Reka
Reka paced the studio impatiently, wishing she’d taken Alexia up on her offer to go watch a movie together while the team worked out.
But she hadn’t been in the mood for a movie. In her mind, she kept replaying the conversation with her uncle. Though he hadn’t made any promises, Reka knew him well. He loved her and Chloe, and he also hated everything Afsan represented. If he was able to help stop Afsan, he would.
She approached the small table by the window, looking at Ash’s ongoing chess game. Like all mediocre chess players—she’d learned the principles, but hadn’t gotten much further than that—she felt deep admiration for people like Ash, who could see patterns where she just saw pawns and pieces.
Something pinged in the direction of the kitchen table. Reka approached, thinking at first it was her phone—well, the phone she’d been loaned, since her own phone was long gone, probably lying in some Istanbul landfill.
But the noise didn’t come from a phone. It came from Ash’s computer, which he’d left open.
And she didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but once she saw the woman’s name on the screen, it became impossible not to look.
Zahra.
This was wrong. She shouldn't be doing this.
But you're gonna do it, anyway.
Her hand shaking with the wrongness of it, Reka clicked on the email. She opened the attachment first, holding her breath as the picture appeared of a little girl with warm brown eyes and pigtails, waving at the camera.
Reka moved on to the email.
Dear Ash,
Little Anna is getting bigger every day. Soon I won’t be able to lift her in my arms. Spring has come early to Munich this year, and I’ve been thinking about you. I hope everything is going well.
Yours,
Z
The intimacy in the signature line had her suck in a ragged breath.
She opened a fresh browser and typed in the woman’s name, taking what she assumed was her last name from the email address. It was a unique name, which made it easy to uncover the woman’s story.
Originally from Syria, Zahra had been medically evacuated to Germany years earlier, after an undisclosed incident.
Stop this.
You can’t stalk someone just because you’re jealous.
But it wasn’t just jealousy. And this was part of what made her a good psychologist, and a good researcher. Once she took hold of a problem, she had to uncover the truth. She had to know.
An old report from a global human rights NGO working in Syria gave her the answer she was looking for. Zahra was referred to by her initials throughout most of it, but her full name slipped through a couple of times.
Reka read the report quickly, then clicked on to find out more.
There was no mistake.
Zahra had been raped by a US soldier in Syria. She’d been hurt badly enough that she’d had to be evacuated to a German hospital.
Reka sat there for a long time, too stunned to even close the browsers she’d been looking at.
Ash
Ash opened the door and walked into the studio, using the towel around his neck to wipe sweat from his forehead.
He was feeling strangely optimistic. He’d had a good workout, and his knee wasn’t even hurting anymore.
He stopped short as he caught sight of Reka sitting at the kitchen table, staring blankly ahead, her cheeks so pale they looked bloodless.
He checked his phone surreptitiously.
Has something happened?
Did I miss something?
But no, there were no messages on his phone, and in any case, she seemed to be staring at something on the screen—on his laptop screen.
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking up at him through dazed eyes. “I didn’t mean to snoop.”
He approached slowly and turned the laptop to his side of the table, taking a quick look at the open browser. He clicked into Gmail and saw the picture of Zahra’s little girl.
Fuck.
So this is how it ends.
Reka would get up and leave, and he'd be all alone again. Though it made sense, though he’d been expecting it, the thought that it would happen like this, that she would leave thinking him capable of such a heinous crime, filled him with intense sadness.
He would have liked to tell her himself. To explain what had happened, so she could make up her mind what to believe.
But you didn’t tell her.
You had the chance to tell her, but you chose not to.
Because you were a coward.
He sighed. It was too late now, anyway.
“Now you know.”
Reka stared at him.
“Now I know?” she repeated slowly. “That’s all you have to say? Every minute that goes by, I know less about you, it seems.”
“Now you know what happened,” he said, waving at the laptop as if it contained the secrets of the universe.
Reka shook her head.
“Yeah. No.”
She stood up to face him, looking up into his eyes.
“That’s not how we’re going to do this. This is what we’re going to do. You're going to sit down and tell me what really happened.”
He sat slowly, dumbfounded, because her tone left no room for argument, and because he was so fucking tired. “What do you want to know?”
“Tell me what really happened. Because nothing in the world would make me believe that you, Ash Gunner, raped that woman.”
He let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His hands shook. Tears filled his eyes.
“I know you didn’t rape that woman, Ash,” Reka repeated.
“You do?” he asked, still afraid to believe.
“I know, because I’ve seen the kind of man you are. So tell me what happened. Tell me why you went to prison for this.”
He looked at her, amazed. She’d already put a lot of the pieces of the puzzle together in her mind, it seemed.
“It’s a long story.”
“We have time.”
So he did. He told her the whole story. Half-way through, she got up and brought him a paper towel, which he used to wipe the snot and tears from his face. And this wasn’t the first time he was telling the story—hell, he’d already told Dark almost everything—but telling Reka was somehow different.
Cathartic.
Reka didn’t say anything until he was done. Then she took one of his large, calloused hands in her own smaller hands.
“Thank you for telling me,” she said.
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” he asked. He waited for the other shoe to fall, for her to tell him that she didn’t want to see him again. That even if he wasn’t a rapist, he’d still carry that on his shoulders for the rest of his life.
“What do you want me to say, Ash? That you found yourself in a shitty situation and did the best you could? I think you know that already. That it’s thanks to you that woman and that little girl are alive today? You know that, also. That the shame you’ve been hoarding is untenable and unreasonable?”
He flinched.
His head was spinning.
“Maybe that part you didn’t know. But it is, Ash. It’s unreasonable. And I’m going to make sure you understand that.”
“I … I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “We’ll figure it out together.”
“Is that all? You’re not leaving me?”
Reka got up and sat on his lap. He held her to him, her slight weight firm and solid.
“I guess there is one more thing,” she finally said.
Ash forced a neutral expression onto his face. Whatever she had to say, he would take it.
“I didn’t mean to snoop. That’s not who I am, and I’m sorry.”
He let out a choked laugh.
“It’s okay,” he said quickly.
“We’re okay?”
“We’re okay, but I’m not letting you go,” he said, standing up with her in his arms. She made a small sound deep in her throat and tightened her arms around his neck.
“Take me to bed,” she said, her voice tickling his ear.
He was about to do just that when there was a knock on the door. Ash put Reka down and opened it to find Rogue standing there.
“Great. You’re both here,” Rogue said. There was no judgment in his tone. “I have good news, but please don’t get too excited,” he added quickly, seeing Reka’s expression. “Reynolds managed to get the satellite in place. It caught a view of the garden, just as Afsan led a woman matching Chloe’s description into the house.”
Reka’s lip quivered.
“How did she look?”
“She was walking. She looked okay.”
Reka breathed a sigh of relief.
“What happens now?” Reka said, wringing her hands together.
“Trust us, Reka,” Ash said, speaking for the first time. “We’re on it. This is what we do.”
Rogue nodded. “Get some sleep. We’ll all meet at eight a.m. in the conference room.”
32
Ash
Ash lay in bed beside Reka, listening to her soft breaths and those cute, gentle snores that she probably didn’t realize she was making.
Watching her sleep was quickly becoming a favorite activity of his.
Not that Ash was going to be getting any sleep tonight. His mind was busy turning around everything that had happened.
When he’d walked in and seen Reka staring at his laptop, his whole world had collapsed on him. He’d never expected he’d get the chance to tell her everything, that she would listen, and that she would stand by him.
But she had.
She’d stood by him and asked nothing in return.
He turned to the second issue keeping him awake.
Afsan.
Ash hadn’t missed the look in Reka’s eyes or the quiver in her mouth when Rogue had mentioned the tycoon. And he wanted to kill Afsan with his bare fists, for putting that fear in her eyes.
Maybe you’ll get your chance.
His hands tingled as he thought of smashing his fists in Afsan’s face. It’d been a long time since he’d looked forward to something this much.
Moving slowly, so as not to wake Reka, Ash stood up. He was already wearing his jeans and T-shirt, so all he had to do was grab his boots, which he put on out in the hallway, on his way to the staircase.
He needed some air, and there was one door that wasn’t alarmed at night, because nobody could get in that way—the door to the rooftop terrace.
He pushed the door open and breathed deep. The cool night air was tinged with a harsher smell.
Cigarette smoke.
Rogue stood with his back to him, facing the city of Zurich. The red tip of a cigarette glowed in his hand.
Ash was about to retreat when Rogue turned around to look at him.
“You couldn’t sleep either, Ash?”
Of the whole team, Ash had always felt closest to Rogue.
Because he’s almost as fucked up as you.
“What are you doing up here, Rogue?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Rogue said.
Ash waved his hand in the direction of the glowing red tip. “Smoking helps you sleep?”
“No. But there are worse things I could be doing with my free time.”
Ash didn’t inquire. If Rogue wanted him to know more, he would tell him.
“I know why you can’t sleep, though,” Rogue continued.
“Really?”
“You’re still feeling responsible for leaving the woman behind.”
“I am responsible.” It had been his choice to leave Chloe behind. And he’d thought about it a hundred times since then. He couldn’t think of any scenario where he might have gotten to Chloe in time and still been able to get Reka out. But it had still been his choice.
“You’re not, actually.” Rogue turned to look at him. “We all are. Even if you and Griffin were the ones there, we all worked on the op together.”
“If her friend dies, it will kill Reka,” Ash breathed out.
“Maybe you should think of what it would do to her, if she lost you as well, before you go in against Afsan half-cocked, as you seem to want to do.”
Ash struggled against the urge to pound the man’s smug face.
“I’m not going in half-cocked. In fact, I’ve had an idea.”
Rogue chuckled, putting the cigarette out with his boot. He crouched, picking up the cigarette butt and placing it in a Ziploc baggie and in his pocket.
“Why do I get the feeling the rest of us are not going to like this idea of yours?”
33
Ash
The conference room door was already open when they arrived. The smell of fresh coffee and pastries wafted out.
Ash stepped aside to let Reka walk through. There’d been no question of leaving her behind. She’d already been dressed and ready, and standing by the door, by the time he came out of the shower.
Reka made a beeline for the table holding the refreshments. She hesitated between a croissant and a shiny horseshoe-shaped pastry, finally settling on the croissant. “Thank you,” she told Pascale.
The young man fairly puffed up in pride. “I drove over to a coffee shop. I figured we’d need some sustenance.”
“Okay, settle down, everyone,” Dark said. He turned to Rogue. “We know Afsan and Chloe were in the house yesterday, and we’re pretty sure they haven’t left.”
“Afsan’s jet is still in Bristol,” Carrie said.
“That means he could go somewhere on short notice,” Rogue said.
“It’s a risk we have to take. The jet is being readied as we speak. We leave tonight. Instead of flying to Bristol, we’ll land in Birmingham and drive up from there.”
“Reka,” Dark said. “You spent some time with him. Is there anything else you remember about Afsan that might help us when we find him?”
“I’ve told you everything I remember.” Reka scrunched her eyes. “He had … he had a copy of The Prince lying on his desk, in the library.”
Ash’s nails dug into his palms.
Pathetic asshole.
“That matches what we know of him. If you remember anything else—“
“I’ll be sure to let you know,” Reka said firmly. She looked at them each in turn, finally settling her gaze on Ash. “I’m coming with you tonight,” she said softly.
Because he’d been expecting it, Ash’s reply was instantaneous. “No, you’re not,” he said.
“I’m coming with you,” she repeated, ignoring Ash.
Let me count the ways you’re not coming with us.
“You’re not trained, Reka. Let us find Chloe. I swear we’ll—“
“He’ll want me,” she said quietly.
“What?”
“Afsan will want me. I’ve been thinking about him a lot. He was … proud of what he had going on in that horrible place. He won’t be happy he lost me. If you tell him you found me, he’ll want me back.”
Jesus.
That was a shit-for-brains idea if he’d ever heard one.
Ash barked out a mirthless laugh. “You’re crazy if you think we’re going to—“
Her finger poked him in the chest. “I like you, Ash, but you don’t tell me what to do,” she said fiercely, and damned if her snarl didn’t turn him on. “I am my own person.”
“Yes. You are,” he growled, doing his best not to get distracted by her words. “But I like you too. So I won’t let you hurt yourself.”
“What does Pemberley Limited do?” Alexia asked.
“Not much, but it owns real estate all over the United Kingdom, including an estate in Wiltshire.”
“And where the fuck is Wiltshire?” Rogue asked. “What?” He said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m Australian. UK geography is not my forte.”
“Wiltshire’s a short drive away from Bristol,” Thorne said from the doorway. As always, he was impeccably dressed in a white shirt and dark slacks, though his bloodshot eyes told her he hadn’t been sleeping.
“Thorne. Where have you been?” Dark asked.
“I rushed back to tell you something you apparently already know,” Thorne said, carefully avoiding the question. “Good job, by the way,” he told Carrie and Pascale.
Carrie clicked a couple keys, and a picture appeared on the wall, of an enormous Victorian country house, complete with turrets, what must be a dozen chimneys, and more windows than Reka could quickly count.
Reka shivered. And she knew—rationally—that a building couldn’t be evil, not in and of itself. But human endeavors could and did color buildings, and country houses like this one were expressions of wealth, power and privilege, in a way that time couldn’t erase.
Or maybe that was just her knowledge of Afsan coloring her feelings.
“Is that …” Her mouth was suddenly dry, the two fajitas she’d eaten rolling around inside her belly. “Is that where Chloe is?”
And even though Ash didn’t look in her direction, she could feel his strong, solid presence next to her.
Lending me his strength.
“We rattled him enough to get him to leave Turkey,” Griffin said. “That means something. But we can’t assume he was in the jet, and we can’t waste time running off to Wiltshire if he isn’t.”
“We need to get satellite imagery on that estate,” Rogue said.
“Can you do that?” Slate asked.
“Not by myself. I’m going to need some help.”
Reka took a deep breath.
“My uncle can help.”
A long instance of silence met her words, and she got the feeling they still didn’t know who her uncle was.
Even though they work together.
“How can he help?” Griffin asked.
“It’s complicated,” Thorne said.
Reka ignored him.
“My uncle advises the president.”
“The president?” Ash asked quietly. “As in, the president of the United States?”
31
Reka
Reka paced the studio impatiently, wishing she’d taken Alexia up on her offer to go watch a movie together while the team worked out.
But she hadn’t been in the mood for a movie. In her mind, she kept replaying the conversation with her uncle. Though he hadn’t made any promises, Reka knew him well. He loved her and Chloe, and he also hated everything Afsan represented. If he was able to help stop Afsan, he would.
She approached the small table by the window, looking at Ash’s ongoing chess game. Like all mediocre chess players—she’d learned the principles, but hadn’t gotten much further than that—she felt deep admiration for people like Ash, who could see patterns where she just saw pawns and pieces.
Something pinged in the direction of the kitchen table. Reka approached, thinking at first it was her phone—well, the phone she’d been loaned, since her own phone was long gone, probably lying in some Istanbul landfill.
But the noise didn’t come from a phone. It came from Ash’s computer, which he’d left open.
And she didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but once she saw the woman’s name on the screen, it became impossible not to look.
Zahra.
This was wrong. She shouldn't be doing this.
But you're gonna do it, anyway.
Her hand shaking with the wrongness of it, Reka clicked on the email. She opened the attachment first, holding her breath as the picture appeared of a little girl with warm brown eyes and pigtails, waving at the camera.
Reka moved on to the email.
Dear Ash,
Little Anna is getting bigger every day. Soon I won’t be able to lift her in my arms. Spring has come early to Munich this year, and I’ve been thinking about you. I hope everything is going well.
Yours,
Z
The intimacy in the signature line had her suck in a ragged breath.
She opened a fresh browser and typed in the woman’s name, taking what she assumed was her last name from the email address. It was a unique name, which made it easy to uncover the woman’s story.
Originally from Syria, Zahra had been medically evacuated to Germany years earlier, after an undisclosed incident.
Stop this.
You can’t stalk someone just because you’re jealous.
But it wasn’t just jealousy. And this was part of what made her a good psychologist, and a good researcher. Once she took hold of a problem, she had to uncover the truth. She had to know.
An old report from a global human rights NGO working in Syria gave her the answer she was looking for. Zahra was referred to by her initials throughout most of it, but her full name slipped through a couple of times.
Reka read the report quickly, then clicked on to find out more.
There was no mistake.
Zahra had been raped by a US soldier in Syria. She’d been hurt badly enough that she’d had to be evacuated to a German hospital.
Reka sat there for a long time, too stunned to even close the browsers she’d been looking at.
Ash
Ash opened the door and walked into the studio, using the towel around his neck to wipe sweat from his forehead.
He was feeling strangely optimistic. He’d had a good workout, and his knee wasn’t even hurting anymore.
He stopped short as he caught sight of Reka sitting at the kitchen table, staring blankly ahead, her cheeks so pale they looked bloodless.
He checked his phone surreptitiously.
Has something happened?
Did I miss something?
But no, there were no messages on his phone, and in any case, she seemed to be staring at something on the screen—on his laptop screen.
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking up at him through dazed eyes. “I didn’t mean to snoop.”
He approached slowly and turned the laptop to his side of the table, taking a quick look at the open browser. He clicked into Gmail and saw the picture of Zahra’s little girl.
Fuck.
So this is how it ends.
Reka would get up and leave, and he'd be all alone again. Though it made sense, though he’d been expecting it, the thought that it would happen like this, that she would leave thinking him capable of such a heinous crime, filled him with intense sadness.
He would have liked to tell her himself. To explain what had happened, so she could make up her mind what to believe.
But you didn’t tell her.
You had the chance to tell her, but you chose not to.
Because you were a coward.
He sighed. It was too late now, anyway.
“Now you know.”
Reka stared at him.
“Now I know?” she repeated slowly. “That’s all you have to say? Every minute that goes by, I know less about you, it seems.”
“Now you know what happened,” he said, waving at the laptop as if it contained the secrets of the universe.
Reka shook her head.
“Yeah. No.”
She stood up to face him, looking up into his eyes.
“That’s not how we’re going to do this. This is what we’re going to do. You're going to sit down and tell me what really happened.”
He sat slowly, dumbfounded, because her tone left no room for argument, and because he was so fucking tired. “What do you want to know?”
“Tell me what really happened. Because nothing in the world would make me believe that you, Ash Gunner, raped that woman.”
He let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His hands shook. Tears filled his eyes.
“I know you didn’t rape that woman, Ash,” Reka repeated.
“You do?” he asked, still afraid to believe.
“I know, because I’ve seen the kind of man you are. So tell me what happened. Tell me why you went to prison for this.”
He looked at her, amazed. She’d already put a lot of the pieces of the puzzle together in her mind, it seemed.
“It’s a long story.”
“We have time.”
So he did. He told her the whole story. Half-way through, she got up and brought him a paper towel, which he used to wipe the snot and tears from his face. And this wasn’t the first time he was telling the story—hell, he’d already told Dark almost everything—but telling Reka was somehow different.
Cathartic.
Reka didn’t say anything until he was done. Then she took one of his large, calloused hands in her own smaller hands.
“Thank you for telling me,” she said.
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” he asked. He waited for the other shoe to fall, for her to tell him that she didn’t want to see him again. That even if he wasn’t a rapist, he’d still carry that on his shoulders for the rest of his life.
“What do you want me to say, Ash? That you found yourself in a shitty situation and did the best you could? I think you know that already. That it’s thanks to you that woman and that little girl are alive today? You know that, also. That the shame you’ve been hoarding is untenable and unreasonable?”
He flinched.
His head was spinning.
“Maybe that part you didn’t know. But it is, Ash. It’s unreasonable. And I’m going to make sure you understand that.”
“I … I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “We’ll figure it out together.”
“Is that all? You’re not leaving me?”
Reka got up and sat on his lap. He held her to him, her slight weight firm and solid.
“I guess there is one more thing,” she finally said.
Ash forced a neutral expression onto his face. Whatever she had to say, he would take it.
“I didn’t mean to snoop. That’s not who I am, and I’m sorry.”
He let out a choked laugh.
“It’s okay,” he said quickly.
“We’re okay?”
“We’re okay, but I’m not letting you go,” he said, standing up with her in his arms. She made a small sound deep in her throat and tightened her arms around his neck.
“Take me to bed,” she said, her voice tickling his ear.
He was about to do just that when there was a knock on the door. Ash put Reka down and opened it to find Rogue standing there.
“Great. You’re both here,” Rogue said. There was no judgment in his tone. “I have good news, but please don’t get too excited,” he added quickly, seeing Reka’s expression. “Reynolds managed to get the satellite in place. It caught a view of the garden, just as Afsan led a woman matching Chloe’s description into the house.”
Reka’s lip quivered.
“How did she look?”
“She was walking. She looked okay.”
Reka breathed a sigh of relief.
“What happens now?” Reka said, wringing her hands together.
“Trust us, Reka,” Ash said, speaking for the first time. “We’re on it. This is what we do.”
Rogue nodded. “Get some sleep. We’ll all meet at eight a.m. in the conference room.”
32
Ash
Ash lay in bed beside Reka, listening to her soft breaths and those cute, gentle snores that she probably didn’t realize she was making.
Watching her sleep was quickly becoming a favorite activity of his.
Not that Ash was going to be getting any sleep tonight. His mind was busy turning around everything that had happened.
When he’d walked in and seen Reka staring at his laptop, his whole world had collapsed on him. He’d never expected he’d get the chance to tell her everything, that she would listen, and that she would stand by him.
But she had.
She’d stood by him and asked nothing in return.
He turned to the second issue keeping him awake.
Afsan.
Ash hadn’t missed the look in Reka’s eyes or the quiver in her mouth when Rogue had mentioned the tycoon. And he wanted to kill Afsan with his bare fists, for putting that fear in her eyes.
Maybe you’ll get your chance.
His hands tingled as he thought of smashing his fists in Afsan’s face. It’d been a long time since he’d looked forward to something this much.
Moving slowly, so as not to wake Reka, Ash stood up. He was already wearing his jeans and T-shirt, so all he had to do was grab his boots, which he put on out in the hallway, on his way to the staircase.
He needed some air, and there was one door that wasn’t alarmed at night, because nobody could get in that way—the door to the rooftop terrace.
He pushed the door open and breathed deep. The cool night air was tinged with a harsher smell.
Cigarette smoke.
Rogue stood with his back to him, facing the city of Zurich. The red tip of a cigarette glowed in his hand.
Ash was about to retreat when Rogue turned around to look at him.
“You couldn’t sleep either, Ash?”
Of the whole team, Ash had always felt closest to Rogue.
Because he’s almost as fucked up as you.
“What are you doing up here, Rogue?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Rogue said.
Ash waved his hand in the direction of the glowing red tip. “Smoking helps you sleep?”
“No. But there are worse things I could be doing with my free time.”
Ash didn’t inquire. If Rogue wanted him to know more, he would tell him.
“I know why you can’t sleep, though,” Rogue continued.
“Really?”
“You’re still feeling responsible for leaving the woman behind.”
“I am responsible.” It had been his choice to leave Chloe behind. And he’d thought about it a hundred times since then. He couldn’t think of any scenario where he might have gotten to Chloe in time and still been able to get Reka out. But it had still been his choice.
“You’re not, actually.” Rogue turned to look at him. “We all are. Even if you and Griffin were the ones there, we all worked on the op together.”
“If her friend dies, it will kill Reka,” Ash breathed out.
“Maybe you should think of what it would do to her, if she lost you as well, before you go in against Afsan half-cocked, as you seem to want to do.”
Ash struggled against the urge to pound the man’s smug face.
“I’m not going in half-cocked. In fact, I’ve had an idea.”
Rogue chuckled, putting the cigarette out with his boot. He crouched, picking up the cigarette butt and placing it in a Ziploc baggie and in his pocket.
“Why do I get the feeling the rest of us are not going to like this idea of yours?”
33
Ash
The conference room door was already open when they arrived. The smell of fresh coffee and pastries wafted out.
Ash stepped aside to let Reka walk through. There’d been no question of leaving her behind. She’d already been dressed and ready, and standing by the door, by the time he came out of the shower.
Reka made a beeline for the table holding the refreshments. She hesitated between a croissant and a shiny horseshoe-shaped pastry, finally settling on the croissant. “Thank you,” she told Pascale.
The young man fairly puffed up in pride. “I drove over to a coffee shop. I figured we’d need some sustenance.”
“Okay, settle down, everyone,” Dark said. He turned to Rogue. “We know Afsan and Chloe were in the house yesterday, and we’re pretty sure they haven’t left.”
“Afsan’s jet is still in Bristol,” Carrie said.
“That means he could go somewhere on short notice,” Rogue said.
“It’s a risk we have to take. The jet is being readied as we speak. We leave tonight. Instead of flying to Bristol, we’ll land in Birmingham and drive up from there.”
“Reka,” Dark said. “You spent some time with him. Is there anything else you remember about Afsan that might help us when we find him?”
“I’ve told you everything I remember.” Reka scrunched her eyes. “He had … he had a copy of The Prince lying on his desk, in the library.”
Ash’s nails dug into his palms.
Pathetic asshole.
“That matches what we know of him. If you remember anything else—“
“I’ll be sure to let you know,” Reka said firmly. She looked at them each in turn, finally settling her gaze on Ash. “I’m coming with you tonight,” she said softly.
Because he’d been expecting it, Ash’s reply was instantaneous. “No, you’re not,” he said.
“I’m coming with you,” she repeated, ignoring Ash.
Let me count the ways you’re not coming with us.
“You’re not trained, Reka. Let us find Chloe. I swear we’ll—“
“He’ll want me,” she said quietly.
“What?”
“Afsan will want me. I’ve been thinking about him a lot. He was … proud of what he had going on in that horrible place. He won’t be happy he lost me. If you tell him you found me, he’ll want me back.”
Jesus.
That was a shit-for-brains idea if he’d ever heard one.
Ash barked out a mirthless laugh. “You’re crazy if you think we’re going to—“
Her finger poked him in the chest. “I like you, Ash, but you don’t tell me what to do,” she said fiercely, and damned if her snarl didn’t turn him on. “I am my own person.”
“Yes. You are,” he growled, doing his best not to get distracted by her words. “But I like you too. So I won’t let you hurt yourself.”
