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“That’s what Jax said too, then all hell broke loose.” She let go of her hair and dropped her arms, letting her forearms and hands dangle between her knees. “What are you gonna do to get them back?”
“The feds and SFPD are putting out APBs on Ariel and Chloe. Juan is in custody but not talking. We’re going back through everything on Ariel Camino and his aliases to find where he might be hiding out.”
There was that word again—alias—the precise language that Jax had used and that all made sense now. Feb hung her head, more of the pieces coming together, all of it too heavy.
Brax coasted a hand across her back, over her shoulders. “We’re working on it, and my husband is upstairs now monitoring web traffic. Jax knows to get us a message in these situations.” He squeezed her shoulder and waited for her gaze again. “The question is, once they do, if we need your help, are you in?”
“So I just hit this button?” Feb lightly brushed the Return button on the far-right keyboard, one of three ergonomic monsters that glowed with rippling rainbow lights, all of them wireless and situated in a line on the wall-length desk below a massive bank of monitors.
“Yep!” said the preschooler with a headful of ginger curls beside her. “Then you on that screen.” Lily pointed to the eye-level monitor directly in front of Feb before flopping back in the gamer chair that was fourteen sizes too big for her. From her other side, Holt handed his daughter a crocheted blanket, a coloring book, and a box of crayons, like they’d done this dance countless times before. Same with the video calls, Feb guessed, given Lily’s precise instructions.
“Who do you call on this thing?” Feb asked.
“I call David every weekend.”
“Who’s David?”
Her freckled cheeks flamed as red as her ringlets. “He has red hair like me. Texas his other daddy now.”
Feb tried to make sense of Texas as a father until she recalled her conversation with Jax about the blue rose cocktail, particularly when and where Jax had first tried it. “You mean the family friend from Texas?”
“Marsh,” Holt said with a nod. “He lives in San Diego now with his husband, Levi, and Levi’s son, David.” He ruffled Lily’s curls. “Though we call other folks in Texas too, don’t we?”
“Mama Mila and Irina.” Clapping, Lily bounced in her chair, the crayons and coloring book forgotten, tumbling to the floor with the blanket. “Can we call now?”
“Nice try, princess,” Brax said as he appeared behind them and plucked Lily from the chair. She squealed in delighted surprise, wriggling in his arms until Brax situated her on his hip. “It’s only Wednesday. You gotta be patient.” She blew a raspberry at him, and Feb laughed out loud. Holt too as Brax blew one back at their daughter. “I’m gonna take her down for breakfast,” Brax said. “What can I bring you two?”
“Celia fed me already,” Feb replied. She’d fallen asleep on the living room couch in the wee hours of the morning, lulled to sleep by the rumble of voices across the foyer and the two massive cats who’d made themselves at home on her feet. She’d roused several hours later when delicious aromas—fresh-brewed coffee, cinnamon rolls, eggs and cheese—had started wafting from the kitchen. “And I’ve had enough coffee for a week.”
Holt laughed even louder than he had at his daughter’s antics. “No such thing in this household.” He tipped his head back to look up at his husband. “Refill, please?”
“Helena’s rocket fuel?”
“Big mug.”
Smiling, Brax leaned over and kissed his husband’s forehead. Lily mimicked him, dropping a smacking kiss on her father’s nose. “Anything else you need?” Brax said.
“Texas or Whiskey. Or Barbie.” More code names, Feb assumed, all above her pay grade, though the last one made her giggle.
“I’ll see who’s available,” Brax said before heading down the stairs from the third floor... Room? Command center? Lair? Celia had said Holt had an office upstairs, but this was more than a mere office.
Holt’s domain in any event, the middle Madigan’s fingers flying over the keyboard in front of him. He paused after an initial flurry of typing and reached for an earbud case. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
“Would you mind listening?” Feb asked, comfortable enough with the flannel-wrapped giant after the past half hour in his easy company. “After what happened with Juan and Chloe, I don’t know who on my team to trust. Maybe you’ll notice if something is off.”
“I can do that.” He shifted to the chair Lily had vacated, then used his mouse to drag his open windows of web searches and code to the monitors directly in front of him. His fingers flew once more, but the slight angle of his head, his lifted ear and split glance, indicated he was ready to be the impartial observer Feb needed.
She hit the Return button, joining the video chat she’d sent an invite for earlier that morning. Squares populated the screen, each one filled by a member of her kitchen staff. Everyone except Chloe and Juan.
And Jax.
Feb’s audio connected and voices erupted all at once. Chefs talking over each other, speculating, then lobbing questions in her direction once they noticed her join. She waved a hand, and the chatter quieted. “Can everyone hear me okay?”
A chorus of “Yes, chef” echoed back, and it was the first time Feb had felt like herself since she’d walked into UTT yesterday morning.
Holt chuckled beside her.
She swatted his tattooed arm, then smiled and turned her attention back to her friends and colleagues. “Good. First, I want to thank everyone for an amazing service last night. Until that alarm went off, we were kicking serious ass.”
