Blue(82)

I try to keep my tone neutral, not accusatory. While I don't like what they did, I can't blame Tommie. She's loyal to Evan and would likely do anything he asked, without hesitation. He saved her from something so unmentionable, he won't even give me a clue.


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I like knowing he wasn't completely alone. I'd have preferred it to be me he leaned on, but I couldn't have done what Tommie did. She's a tech genius and was essential to his mission. Besides, having had time to digest that fact, I'm strangely comforted in knowing he was close by, even if I wasn't aware at the time.

She brushes a dark lock behind her ear, worrying her lip as she contemplates. Clearing her throat, she glances down at the screen before answering.

"Yeah, I did. I'm sorry." Her words and tone are genuine.

"I'm not angry. I'm glad he had you."

"If it's any consolation, I tried to talk him out of it. I really did. I also tried to get him to tell all of you." She looks at Tripp, who's sitting beside me and deeply interested in our conversation. "He didn't know it, but I was also prepared to bring you all in if shit hit the fan. I wasn't going to let him go down."

Standing, I round the coffee table and sit beside her. She raises her hand to the top of the laptop as if she's going to shut it, but hesitates. My eyes are glued to the screen where whoever has the camera strapped to them is running along between high, corrugated steel walls.

They come to the end, at what looks like an intersection, and I'm able to make out that it's a container park and they are running between shipping containers.

"Who is that?"

I have more questions, wondering who they are and what they're doing, but I bite my bottom lip and painfully swallow every single one of them because I know not to ask. She won't tell me, and my inquisition might push her too far. She may end this screening and leave me in the dark. If Evan knew I could see this, he would not be pleased, but I need it. If I can't be there, this is second best.

"Um, Carys, I don't think this is a good idea." Tommie's usually self-assured voice is unsteady.

Our gazes meet and it's no longer girlfriend to boyfriend's coworker; we're woman to woman. She understands what I need and she's torn between giving it to me and honoring what we both know Evan would want.

Tripp's now standing on the other side of Tommie and he, too, is intently watching the screen as we see this person stand beside another man in all black, including gloves and a balaclava on his head, with three holes for his eyes and mouth. I'm guessing it's Tango, one of Evan's men, based on the build of the guy.

"Please," I beg as Tommie begins to lower the laptop screen. "We won't say anything."

"Carys, Tommie's right, you shouldn't watch this." Tripp's tone is firm and while he's speaking to me, his eyes are as drawn to the screen as ours are. 

"No, please." My hand curls around Tommie's wrist to stop the closure of the laptop. "I swear I won't freak out or do something stupid, no matter what happens. Just please let me watch. It's killing me to be worrying and not know how things are going."

Perhaps it's the raw vulnerability, the nakedness of my heart that she sees in my face. I'm at her mercy, and maybe it's the heartfelt plea in my tone, but something stops her and she removes her hand. Tripp lets out a harsh breath on a snarl and my eyes flick to his, a silent warning in his gaze. He's not pleased with me, but too bad. I'm a big girl and can handle this.

"Fine, but no sound," Tommie grinds out, and then she takes my hand.

The guy's holding what looks like a drill or something and he's cutting the lock on the door, then two guys slink into the darkness of the container.

"What was that?"

"That was a cordless bolt cutter," Tripp says, running a hand through his blond hair.

"What are they doing?" I can't resist asking, although I know I shouldn't.

Tommie sighs. "Carys, I can't tell you-either of you, so don't ask. Just watch."

Like a young child always asking why, even after having received a response, I press. "Who has the camera on them?"

This time, she releases my hand and clasps hers together. Anna walks into the room and stares at the three of us sitting on the couch, eyes glued to the screen. Reading the room accurately, she silently slips in behind me and does the same.

"Please … " Tommie begins.

"It's Van," Tripp offers, attuned to Tommie's hesitancy.

Swallowing hard, I turn back to the screen as Anna lays her delicate hand on my shoulder and holds tight. As if we're at the movies, watching some action flick, there's utter silence as Evan and his men run between the containers, randomly opening some, and then two guys go into the darkness and come out a few minutes later.