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“Roger that.” Razor stood, picked up his computer, and walked over to where Striker was seated. “We’re teaming up on this one,” he said. “But it’s your mission. I’m number two.”
“Who’s on our team?” Striker asked.
“Your call, but for the time being, I say we put everyone on standby. Between the two of us, Monk, and Eighty-eight, we can handle
monitoring the surveillance. If anything changes, it’s easy enough to call in the cavalry.”
“Agreed.” If that was the plan, they didn’t necessarily need to leave Yachats, but Striker didn’t point that out. If only for his sanity, he needed to separate himself from Aine McNamara and the life she was making without him.
—:—
“How long will you be in California?” Aine asked Ava, who had just told her they’d be leaving in the morning.
“At least through Thanksgiving. Maybe longer.”
Their mother wouldn’t be back from her month-long cruise until the middle of December, and now Ava was leaving too and taking Sam with her.
What would Aine do with herself? Maybe she could start looking into the program at Oregon University she and Striker had talked about the night before.
Aine shook her head. What was she doing? They hadn’t talked; he’d dropped a handful of bombs designed to make sure she was aware that he knew what was happening in her life, including her relationship with Stuart.
“You’re going too,” said Ava, pulling diapers from a box and putting them into a suitcase.
“What do you mean?” she asked, bending down to pet Dasher, the dog Tabon had given her sister for Christmas.
“You aren’t going to stay here alone.”
“Why not?”
“Aine, come on. Be serious. Can you really be away from your nephew for an indefinite amount of time?”
“It didn’t sound like I was invited.”
Ava set a handful of diapers on the bed. “You’re always invited.”
“I wouldn’t make such a blanket statement if I were you. Tabon might not appreciate having his sister-in-law in tow everywhere you go.”
Ava shook her head. “He loves you.”
“Loving me and wanting me to be a constant in your lives are two different things.”
“Wait until he gets back. I’ll let him convince you.”
They both headed toward the nursery when they heard Sam wail through the baby monitor.
“You can get him,” said Ava, holding back.
“No, he’s your son. I’m sorry.”
Ava folded her arms. “I’m not being noble. I have a lot to do.”
Aine smiled and raced off to pluck her nephew from the crib. “Hello, sweet boy,” she said, lifting him into her arms. “Did you have a good nap?”
Sam was the most beautiful baby Aine had ever seen. He had his father’s jet black hair, and blue eyes like she and Ava had. At his last appointment, the doctor had told them that Sam was in the ninety-eighth percentile of both height and weight, which Tabon said was because her sister produced more milk than any mother in the history of the universe.
Ava had swatted at him when he said it after they got home, and pretended to pout. When Tabon had put his arms around her and nuzzled her sister’s neck, Aine walked out of the back door of the house to give them some privacy.
She didn’t begrudge Ava any happiness, but there were times she was envious. Tabon more than loved Ava; he worshiped her, and she felt the same way about him.
