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Curious, Aubrey said, “Why is he upset?”
Shrugging, she said, “It’s a Liam thing.”
Before she could inquire what that meant, Serena came up behind them. “Everyone’s in custody.”
“What about the guy in the attic?”
“They’re taking him to the hospital. He should be well enough to go to jail soon.”
“Liam looks rough,” Jazz said. “How badly is he hurt?”
“I asked, but you know the answer.”
Jazz gave a laugh. “Of course. The one we always get.”
Both Jazz and Serena said in unison, “It’s not Syria.”
Her knees like jelly, Aubrey sat down abruptly in a chair. There was a strange buzzing in her head.
“Hey, you okay?” Jazz asked.
“Yes,” she answered weakly. “Just a lot to take in.”
“Need some water?”
“No, I’m fine.” She gave both women what she felt was her very best fake smile. Jazz seemed to buy it but Serena looked both concerned and puzzled.
“What...” Aubrey cleared her throat of the sudden dryness and started again, “What does that mean, ‘It’s not Syria’?”
“They were on a mission together there,” Serena said. “All of them were injured. Liam, too.”
“So whenever any of them are hurt,” Jazz continued the story for Serena, “the answer we usually get when we ask about their injuries is—it’s not Syria.”
Syria.
Before she could parse the implications of that information, Jazz asked, “Do you want to try to talk to any of the women?”
Refocusing, Aubrey said, “If possible. I don’t want to cause more harm.”
“I’ll double-check with Tessa. See what she thinks. In the meantime, you want to go through the house. See the aftermath?”
Her eyes tracked to where Liam had gone. She definitely wanted to go inside the house, but her instincts told her to follow him.
Reading her intent, Jazz took her arm and tugged her toward the house. “I know you want to get his take, but it’s not a good time right now. You can talk to him on the way back home.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Liam stared into the night. The face reflected in the airplane window showed the grim countenance of a beaten man. Dark thoughts swirled in his head. He was done. He couldn’t do this anymore. Looking for Cat had consumed him for years. She was his first thought in the morning and his last one before he dropped off to sleep at night. When he wasn’t working on an OZ op, he was digging for intel, hoping to find some kernel of information he’d missed.
Giving up was not his way, but in this he had no choice. If he was going to have any kind of life—any peace at all—he had to let her go. She was likely dead. After twelve years of captivity and torture, how could she not be? It defied all odds that she could have survived even a few years, much less twelve.
So why did he feel as though he was abandoning her all over again? The darkness he’d felt the day he’d left the prison without her was once more washing over him. Once again his soul was ripped to shreds, and he had no clue how to stop the bleeding this time.
He saw the reflection of Aubrey Starr before he felt her sit beside him. Turning, he looked at her, really looked at her. She was attractive, there was no denying that. Soft golden hair, gray-blue, intelligent eyes, and a natural upward curve to her full lips as if she smiled often.
She hadn’t been a burden, not like he’d feared. She had, in fact, even made him smile a couple of times. There was just something refreshing and pure about her interest in their operation. Not self-serving but empathetic and caring.
Realizing he hadn’t been exactly friendly to her, he did his best to give her a welcoming look.
