“Give them hell, baby,” she said. “And get our girl back.”
Chase started at that description of Sophie. Evie considered her one of their own, one of their little family of warriors. And why not? She’d been on a mission, and she’d helped retrieve information that might just give them insight into the heart of Grigori Androv’s operations.
“Not leaving until I put you in the car,” Matt said.
Evie rolled her eyes as she snagged her purse from the desk. “Then let’s go so you can get down to the real business of the evening.”
As they were walking out, she stopped and put a hand on Chase’s arm. Her eyes made him think of Sophie’s eyes. She had that same beautiful shade of violet, and yet she was completely different from Sophie.
“Good luck, Chase. I know y’all will succeed because it’s what you do—but when you get her back, tell her whatever it is that’s on your mind. The two of you—” She hesitated. “God, it hurt just being in the same room with you. I don’t know what that means, but I’m thinking it means something. Stop fighting it. Life is too short.”
SHE WAS DRUNK. Sophie held her hand up in front of her face and tried to focus on it. She shook her head, tried again. Her fingers still didn’t come into focus, so she dropped her hand and turned her head. The world rippled.
She was lying on a bed. A soft bed, really. She didn’t know how she’d gotten here. She remembered fighting with Chase…
Oh, Chase. Her throat ached at the thought of him. She couldn’t remember all the reasons why, though she tried to push past the fog and find the memories in the mistiness of her head.
She’d been arguing with Chase, she’d turned and walked away and—nothing. She’d woken up here, drunk.
But where was here? She tried to roll over, but she couldn’t coordinate herself enough to move.
She heard the clinking of glass in the background. A man’s laughter. A soft hand pushed her hair from her face and she turned toward it, trying to see who it was.
“She’s coming out of it,” a woman’s voice said.
“Excellent. She needs to be able to walk on her own by the time Mr. Rodriguez arrives.”
“She will.”
“But she needs to be quiet.”
“I’m doing my best. This is the first time you’ve ever wanted to sell a girl outside the auction.”
“Cannot be helped. I don’t have time to wait, and Rodriguez is ready to buy.”
“She’ll be ready, Mr. Androv.”
A pause. “One hour.”
“Yes, sir.”
34
Chase and his team, which now included Brandy and Victoria as well as Viking’s SEALs, were spreading out on the floor of the Walter E. Washington Convention Center in downtown DC. The center was jammed with technology displays, one of which was Zoprava’s booth where they touted not only their antivirus software but also their research into ways to guard against cyberwarfare attacks. They were setting themselves up as the company to turn to for solutions in protecting vulnerable networks against hostile incursions.
Ironic considering Open Sky was another of Androv’s businesses, but then most people didn’t know that. It made a perverse sense, however. One of the most notorious networks of hackers also worked for the man who wanted to sell you a defense against hackers.
Chase strode through the crowd, heading for the stage at one end where the speakers were scheduled to be. He spotted Androv in a gathering and hot anger roared through him. He increased his pace. A voice spoke through the mic in his ear.
“Easy, Fiddler. We have to let him lead us to her. No good making a greasy spot in the carpet out of him.”
Chase slowed. He knew his team leader was right. Tipping his hand before it was time was stupid. And he had enough experience to be patient.
He’d just never had to be patient when his insides were churning with this kind of fear. Not fear for himself, but fear for Sophie. He’d sworn to protect her, sworn he wouldn’t let Androv get her.
He hadn’t kept that promise, and it left a hollow in his chest. A big fucking hole that was so huge he felt like he’d fall into it if he looked over the edge. And keep falling forever. There was no getting out of this pit. No redemption whatsoever without Sophie.
He had to get her back. And then he had to tell her…
What?
Tell her fucking what?
This, dumbass. Tell her this.
About the hole. About the guilt. About the despair and anger and the way he hadn’t ever felt as good as he’d felt the few days he’d spent with her. Not at first, no. But when they’d talked, when he’d understood her, when he’d tasted her—hell, he didn’t want to stop tasting her. He needed more of that. He didn’t know what that meant, he just knew he did.