Page 18 of Hollow Trace

Scout moved between him and Gus. “Quinn’s good.”

Gus clenched his jaw as footsteps approached from one of the hallways. “I suppose we’ll find out.”

Quinn frowned, glancing between them as another man walked into the fray, shaggy hair tousled about his head, his glasses not quite straight. He stopped, his gaze making the rounds before it landed on Quinn and froze.

The guy swallowed, looking as if he might bolt before he drew himself up — nodded. “Corporal Quinton Taylor.”

Quinn rested his hand on his Sig as he took a step forward. “You’re Dr. Darwin Oswald.”

Scout moved with him. “Quinn… Cool, remember?”

Quinn snorted, fingers still wrapped around the grip. “So, that’s a yes for harboring fugitives. Should I be worried about drugs, next?”

She palmed his chest when he took another step. “Everything will make a lot more sense after we explain the situation, so… Pull back.”

“Which situation is that? The part where you’re all dead, or the reason you’re hiding a man wanted for corporate espionage, aggravated assault…”

“All of it.” She kept her hand firmly on his chest, shifting to block out half of the room. “Let’s take this into the war room.”

He snapped his gaze down to her, his heart skipping at the sheer beauty of her face. The way her eyes gleamed almost neon in the bright light. For a moment, everything else disappeared.

He must have made some kind of noise because she smiled, inched closer, completely crossing that line he’d been thinking about outside. He swallowed, trying to drag his gaze away, until that damn rose-scented soap smothered his senses — took him back to those weeks they’d shared. The promises they’d made.

She lifted her hand, palming his cheek. “It’s going to be okay, but if we want to get Brea back, we’re going to need everyone’s help, including Darwin’s.”

He didn’t resist when she used her other hand to gently remove his fingers from his weapon. “You have a war room?”

Her smile flourished, and his damn heart kicked in his chest. “C’mon.”

Quinn walked with her, eyeing Darwin as the man shuffled into the room, taking the seat farthest from the door. Requiring Quinn to slide over the damn table in order to tackle him…. should it come to that. Scout tightened her grip on his hand, shaking her head as she all but shoved him into a chair.

He leaned back, their joined hands sharing the arm of one chair, the other resting on top of the table as another man jogged in. Gideon, he assumed. Quinn made a conscious decision not to tap his fingers on the surface as the general started talking.

It took nearly an hour to go through it all — the ambush on Scout’s team. The rescue. How Darwin claimed he’d been set up, along with all the ways they’d been trying to bring down Finch ever since. Everything but how this tied into Brea — how they were going to get her back.

Gus pushed his chair away from the table and stood, a scowl still shaping his lips. “Are we clear, now, Corporal?”

Quinn glanced around the table, then focused on the general. “First, it’s Quinn or Quinton. Hell, call me Taylor if that fits your military branding better, but Corporal makes it sound as if I’m under your command.” He sucked in a breath. “Second, while the history lesson was interesting, I’m more concerned with why these assholes kidnapped my sister and how the hell we’re going to rescue her.”

Gus’ jaw clenched. “In order to work through this new situation, you need to fully understand what we’re up against. So, I’ll ask you again. Are we clear?”

Quinn straightened, leaning forward. “Let’s see…” He motioned to Darwin. “Canada’s version of Dr. Strange, over there, created a super soldier serum, but his evil partner, Finch, stole it and weaponized it.” He paused, glanced at Darwin. “Real shocker there, by the way. Now, we’ve got a bunch of these mutant assholes running around who happen to be extremely hard to kill. And in order to fix everything, you all had to die and cops like me have been left to clean up your rather extensive line of messes. That about sum it up?”

“Taylor…”

Quinn pushed to his feet, missing the warmth of Scout’s hand in his, the moment it pulled free. “I get it. You made something that could revolutionize how soldiers are treated in the field. Be the difference between them making it back to base or dying, right there. Then, assuming everything you’ve said is true, some psychotic asshole went and turned it into the very thing you hate. I understand why you’re here, why you’re trying to keep this all secret. But my sister’s out there, having god knows what done to her, so I really need to skip to the part where we do something. Anything.”

The room fell silent, everyone staring at him until Scout stood, twisted to face him.

He pointed to Gideon. “You can access Finch’s network. Can’t you find out where that transport was taking them? Maybe who that asshole was that was obviously in charge?”

Gideon placed his hands on the table and stood. “I already took a cursory peek inside ORACLE, but there’s no record of anything other than a couple pings from a HELIOS watch, which stopped the moment you intercepted that transport. In fact, I’m not sure Finch even knows this… trial, for lack of a better word, is happening.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, but the usual channels won’t help us.”

Zadie scrambled to her feet. “If they start broadcasting again, we should be able to trace it.”

Quinn fisted his hands to resist pounding them on the table. “She could be dead by the time they do that. There’s got to be a way to track down who these people are….” He paused as a thought struck him. “Her race.”

Gideon frowned. “What race?”