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Oliver pulled his phone out of his pocket and frowned at the screen. Maxwell watched the man’s eyes track back and forth. His brows rose and his jaw dropped. Finally, his eyes widened and his head snapped up.
“Sir? Sir, she just texted…”
Maxwell grinned.
The game was on, now.
Wednesday. Safe House, London, UK.
Jessica stared at the phone screen, willing a message to come to her. She’d grabbed her phone off the table while everyone was talking.
Following their escape from the recovery center, Robin had picked up the device for Jessica. She’d mostly set it up, but hadn’t put her work things on it. Just in case. She was extra glad for that given how she wouldn’t have been comfortable handing her phone over to the others after Samuel’s abduction otherwise.
She leaned her hip against the bathroom vanity and bit her lip.
It was silly to think that sending a message would garner an immediate reply, but she stared anyway.
Fucking hell.
Someone tapped on the bathroom door.
“Jess?” Harper called out.
She sighed, pocketed her phone, then opened the door.
“Hey, I’m going to grab something to eat. Want anything? Coffee? Tea?”
“Hot chocolate if it’s an option.” She forced herself to smile. “Thanks.”
He stared at her a moment longer. It was unusual seeing him this serious. Usually, Harper had a smart-ass remark for every occasion. The fact he wasn’t making comments only underscored how dire this situation was.
“I know Logan said he wants you to stay here, but did you know there’s a little rooftop garden?” He thumbed over his shoulder. “Could be good for you to get some air.”
“Thanks.”
“Okay. I’ll be back soon.”
“Great.”
He stared at her a moment longer before turning and heading out of the bedroom.
She could hear the low voices of the others in the main room. Very soon most of them would leave to head out to look at things and hope for an answer to fall into their laps.
It was maddening.
She paced the bedroom, frustrated with the lack of direction or activity.
What were they all even doing?
Jessica yanked her phone out of her pocket—again—and looked at the screen.
Another phantom vibration.
Shit.
She turned and paced toward the windows.
What if there was no answer? What if this was it?
