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“And without evidence of a crime crossing borders, Interpol won’t get involved?”
“Even with evidence the organization doesn’t always get involved.” He presses the elevator button. “It’s the way of the world. Politics are always at play.”
When I return to the room, Max has claimed the chair beside Sloane, and Sage stands at the end of the bed with a look of confusion. Dark circles below her eyes highlight her exhaustion, as I’m sure the extended travel is catching up to her. Her fingers are freezing, something she assures me always happens in hospitals.
“What’s going on?” I ask as I reach for those iceberg hands to warm them.
“Max is insisting I leave.”
Sloane’s eyelids are closed, and resting against the pillow, she gives off the appearance of sleep, but she says, “Max says she hasn’t left the hospital room since arriving. Take her back to the hotel. Make her rest, shower, and eat.”
“You don’t get to tell me—” Sage interrupts.
“Have you been taking your medication?” Sloane asks, eyes still closed.
“Yes,” Sage bites out. “You can’t kick me?—”
“Talk to the hand,” Sloane says, palm up, eyelids closed. “You’re not getting sick or worn down on my watch. With luck, we’ll fly home soon. You need to be rested before we board a long flight. It’s important for your immune system.”
Up until this moment, my feelings toward Sloane had been lukewarm at best. But her insistence that Sage leave and rest, well, it alters my opinion of her. Warmth may flow beneath that dark-haired, brash exterior after all.
Taking Sage back to the hotel to take care of her is exactly what I want to do. There will be time to review the case information and explore next steps. At this point, my priorities align with Sloane’s. Caring for Sage is my highest priority.
CHAPTER 40
Knox
Six days later
The broadleaf maples lining the street are haphazardly dipped in bright red and yellow, but green prevails as the dominant color. There’s a chill in the air in the morning, and in the evenings, the distinct scent of wood-burning fireplaces permeates the air. Fall is coming to the mountains.
Sage and I arrived in Asheville four days ago. We’ve been staying in her friend Jimmy’s guest room. The fire department salvaged the walk-out basement and much of her home, but the extensive damage requires that her house be demolished and rebuilt. Insurance will cover the expense, but it will take at least a year, if not a year and a half to rebuild.
It wasn’t easy for her to tour the charred remains of her home, but Jinx, her cat, returned within minutes of her arrival, as if he’d been in the woods on lookout. Her neighbors kept him fed by putting food out in bowls, and now that she’s returned, she’s taken over the duties. She considered taking him back to Jimmy’s, but decided he wouldn’t be happy with the arrangement, so he wanders his territory and shows up each day Sage returns with food.
Sage has worked the last two days, and I’ve patrolled the parking lot and surrounding area, but I’ve done so without her being aware. There’s still a chance this isn’t over.
I’d like to believe she feels safe, but she repacked her black duffel bag and replenished the cash in the side pocket. When I asked her if she was scared, with a timid smile, she answered, “No. But when Sam comes home, he’ll be happy I listened to him and kept it on the ready.”
I didn’t argue. But Jimmy and I locked eyes over her head. One day, she’ll accept the truth, and Jimmy and I will both be there for her. I’ve decided Jimmy is an all-right guy.
He hooked me up with a guy who owns a property on Sage’s street. The man has been using the home for rental income, mostly on Airbnb. A former vet, he was stationed at Fort Bragg for almost fifteen years. Proof it’s a small world, he knows my dad. And he offered to rent the house to me and Sage. It’s a cute two-bedroom craftsman, but most importantly, the proximity to Sage’s house will make for easy monitoring during the rebuild. It’s possible Jinx will make the move too.
At least, I believe this option is ideal. After work today, Jimmy is going to drop her off. We shipped her car back, but it won’t arrive until next week, so she’s been hitching rides to work with Jimmy, and I’ve been using a rental. My car remains back in Santa Barbara, but if she agrees to moving in together, I’ll ship my stuff out East.
I’ve thought about all the reasons she might say no. She’ll say it’s fast. It is. She’ll question if I’m suggesting this out of fear someone might come after her. I’m not. Knowing Sage, she’ll try to tell me I can do better with a—to use her words—healthier person. I can’t, and I don’t want to.
Being with her is where I am meant to be at this point in my life. The years climbing the ranks, deployments, and operations were all bound to end. Those years ended, I’ve transitioned, and now this is where I belong. Now that I’ve found her, I have no intention of ever letting her go.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Seeing it’s Max, I sit down on the front porch of the rental to keep an eye out for Jimmy driving up with Sage.
“Mad Max,” I say in greeting. “How’s it going?”
“I might kill her.” I snort. “I’m serious. She makes me want to strangle her.”
“What’s she doing now?”
Max and Sloane didn’t return to Asheville with us. Sloane got it in her head that she needs to find her boss. That her boss might be in danger. That if her report caused all of this, then her boss had access to it. Max argued that her boss is probably the one who hired Anton Solonov. They agreed to disagree. But when she made it clear that she and Sage would get to the bottom of it, he balked. Like the good friend he is, he volunteered to join her on her fact-finding mission, insisting that Sage needed to get home.
