Finn (32 page)

“Max!” Presley flies into his arms, and he spins her around as she squeals. “It’s so great to see you!”

Jealousy spikes in my blood, and I have to take a few breaths to remember he’s my best friend. He makes eye contact and takes pleasure in seeing me tense. His head drops to her shoulder, and he hugs her tight, watching me the whole time.

There’s a low growl that escapes my throat, and the whole room looks at me. I don’t try to hide my aggravation.

“Chill out, I haven’t seen her since our camping trip. Can’t help if she missed me.”

“I did. I missed you a lot. And Winnie, yeesh! She asks about you all the time.” Presley moves back a bit, but wraps her arms around his waist with another squeeze.

“Presley, come here.” My voice is husky. Max starts to chuckle, and she gives me a dramatic eye-roll.

“Ignore him. I do.” She steps away and goes to hug Abbi, Ember, and Harper. Then she drops to the floor, petting Blade. He whines in her hands, and I actually find myself relating to a fucking dog.

Tripp and Reese come in next, holding hands, and Max gives me a sideways glance. I tried to explain that Tripp had a girlfriend, but he had to see it for himself.

Cruz appears from the kitchen with a tray of drinks, and Alex hands out beer. Robbie sits in his chair, pulling Ember into his lap. She gives him a look, and he whispers something in her ear, making her face turn pink.

I tag another chair and pat my knee for Presley. She sits and nestles her body into mine warmly.

“So, we invited you all here tonight because we found out the sex of the baby this week.” Ember starts to glow. “You are our best friends, and we wanted to share with everyone together. Our parents and Raven already know, but we swore them to secrecy until tonight.”

Presley shoots up and starts to bounce on my lap. “Oh my gosh, this is great.”

The room starts to buzz.

Tell us!

Don’t keep us waiting.

Is it twins?

Robbie moves his hand to Ember’s small baby bump and looks directly at me. His face tells it all. I know. Deep in my soul, I know exactly what he’s saying with only one glance. Max hisses beside me, seeing the same thing I do.

Ember’s eyes brim with tears. “We’re having a little girl.”

The room explodes; Presley leaps up and rushes to Ember’s side. The other women do the same, and I sink back into my chair, feeling Robbie’s pain.

A little girl…

A beautiful little girl…

A precious, innocent, little girl who will love her daddy like crazy….

There’s an ache in my chest, and I look back at my best friend, who’s panicked as all the women flank him and Ember. She’s glowing, but he’s wide-eyed and pale as they ramble over each other about showers, themes, and nurseries.

I take in the scene and start to laugh; it’s loud and boisterous, and soon, I’m not alone. I give Alex a pointed look. “You got anything stronger than vodka in this house?”

“Absolutely.” He goes to the kitchen and holds up a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label.

I jerk my head in approval and motion with my chin to the others. Robbie dislodges from under Ember and follows.

Alex hands out highballs with the scotch, raising his glass first. “To Robbie, Ember, and that precious baby girl.”

We all touch glasses, Robbie gulping the entire thing in one swallow. “I’m fucking screwed.” He runs his hand along the back of his neck.

“Yep,” I agree as he gives me a dirty look.

“Ember’s ecstatic. Thad and Chloe are going crazy.”

“You’ll be an excellent father.” Gabe slaps him on the shoulder.

He edges his glass forward for Alex to give him a refill.

We change the subject to Max’s new assignment in Quantico, when a shrill alert starts to beep on my phone. Robbie’s does the same thing. Max stiffens at the familiar drone.

This is the EMOP warning. This is the distress call. This is James’ private signal that something is wrong. All hands on deck, it’s time to prove why we’re the people to call when things go down.

I look behind me at Presley sipping her drink and listening attentively as Ember’s hands fly through the air. I catch Robbie’s eye, and we communicate non-verbally.

The shit has hit the fan, someone is in danger, and it’s time for us to do our job.

Finn

T
he intensity in the office is at an all-time high. Men and women move around with hushed voices, and TV monitors stay locked on every news station, local and national. So far, nothing about the DeSantis family has been mentioned. Only our group and the team in Louisiana know that the DeSantis children and Mrs. DeSantis were taken at gunpoint last night.

The sun has already risen, when one of the technical assistants comes in with fresh coffee and boxes of food. There’s a team of us who have been here all night, going through every detail of Governor DeSantis’ life as far back as high school. The EMOP is in place, and as outlined, James was on a private plane out of Nashville within an hour of being notified about the kidnapping. He landed in Baton Rouge before midnight, and so far, we’ve had several conference calls with no real updates.

The kidnappers have been silent, which is unnerving, but our shred of hope lies in the fact that the nanny was taken as well. She’s kept her cover in place without any suspicions as far as we know. Her background and reputation as an operative has James confident everyone is okay.

However, the Governor is not faring well. He’s already explained to us that he’s willing to concede to any and all demands within his power, including dropping out of the race. No one has argued with him; our concern is the wellbeing of those being held.

I take my coffee outside and dial Presley, needing to hear her voice. She left me a message last night that Tripp brought her back to our condo, and she was staying there. With all the shit going on, there was comfort in knowing she was lying in my bed.

“’Lo…” Her voice is gravely and laced with sleep.

“Did I wake you?”

“Yes, but I’ve been waiting for your call. I didn’t fall asleep until after five this morning.”

“Sorry I couldn’t call earlier. We haven’t taken many breaks.”

“Can you tell me what’s going on?”

I briefly fill her in on the situation, leaving out any confidential details.

“What’s next?”

“We’re on stand-by, waiting for any news. Our team is still digging for enemies and radicals.”

“When are you coming home?”

“Hopefully, in a few hours. We’ll start taking shifts soon.”

“Should I be worried?”

“No.” The lie burns in my chest. It’s better if I don’t tell her the next stage of the plan unless it’s absolutely necessary. There’s an ache deep in my chest, knowing that if this gets ugly, I’ll be in the middle.

“Call me when you’re coming home. I miss you.”

“Miss you too.”

I end the call and try to finish my coffee, but it tastes bitter as I think about what could happen if James needs me.

Standing in my doorway, I watch Presley sleep peacefully on my side of the bed. The vision of her wearing one of my USMC t-shirts while wrapped around my pillow eases the wrenching in my gut.

Two hours. I have two hours to explain to her what’s happening and meet the team at the airport. Instead of heading to the shower and packing a bag, I strip and crawl into bed next to her, rolling us. Her warm breath tickles my chest as she burrows deeper into me. My arm starts to tingle with the loss of blood flow, so I adjust us gently, then run my hand up and down her back.

I allow myself a few minutes to soak in the closeness of our bodies before kissing along her hairline to wake her. “Presley, wake up.”

“Hmmm, noooo.”

“I hate to do this, baby, but we need to talk. Wake up for me.”

She shakes her head and gives a little grumble.

My lips travel down to her ear, and I nibble gently, whispering, “I have to go. I’d love nothing more than to strip you naked and sleep the rest of the day away, but I can’t.”

I know she’s awake when her lashes flutter against my skin. “When do you leave?”

“Soon.”

“When will you be back?”

“As soon as the motherfuckers are arrested.”

“Is this going to be safe?”

“Mostly, for me. I’m on the surveillance and sidelines.”

“Does that mean you’ll be leaving your guns here?” She lifts her face, eyes locking with mine, silently begging me to say yes.

“It’s smart to always be prepared.”

“That answer doesn’t ease my nerves.”

“Don’t work yourself up. I’ve told you before, we’re good at our jobs.”

“What happened? Why are you going now?”

My blood starts to boil, remembering the sound of Mrs. DeSantis’ voice on the recording as she begged for the bastards to leave her kids alone. She was a mother, scared out of her mind, and agreed to anything they wanted. Then there was a shot, followed by several screams. Our contact started yelling, confirming what we assumed. They shot Mrs. DeSantis.

Through the chaos, we knew she was still alive but wounded. The Governor agreed to withdraw from the Senate race and also resign from the governorship. His timing would stall several state bills up for vote in the election. Gun laws, drug punishments, and funds for public service agencies would all suffer.

Little did the kidnappers know, but this gave us an angle to work and research. We now had a list of groups that would benefit from this, and our search for the kidnappers was narrowing down.

I explain this to Presley, and her face goes pale.

“Can’t someone else do all this? What about local authorities and trained professionals?”

“I’m trained. Usually, you’re right. Local authorities would handle this. However, this is a James Hayes mission, and I’m on his team.”

Her lips begin to tremble. “Promise me, swear to me, you’ll be careful. You won’t put yourself willingly in a dangerous situation.”

“I’ll be careful.”

She swings her legs so she’s straddling me and lays her head in the crook of my neck. “I love you, but more than that, I trust you.”

I wrap my arms around her and hold tight. My mind spins with unknowns, the usual thrill of a mission gone.

Stepping off the plane in Baton Rouge, we’re whisked into cars and driven to the Governor’s mansion. James is waiting for us in a room he has taken over as the ‘Control Room’. Introductions are made, and Robbie and I stand against a back wall, waiting on an updated briefing. James’ strong, authoritative voice booms through the room. “We have identities and motives, so now, we need a lock on their location. This was instigated by a state-wide gang that pulls in illegal drugs and weapons. DeSantis stands hard on increasing port patrol and supported cuts in many areas of the budget. This particular gang took the biggest hit in merchandise after a huge raid last year. Their reputation and finances never recovered. This is pure old-fashioned retaliation and strong-arming.