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That was easy. “I love her.”
He nodded. “Why?”
“What?”
Ian’s face didn’t change. “I asked you, why,” he stated again. “Why do you love her?”
There was a list of reasons. Because she was strong and brave, faced down the man I’d followed for the entirety of my adult life and was constantly pushing him to his limits despite his gruff attitude. That she cared about the three of us fucking assholes with her entire being. Because when I looked at her, my chest squeezed, but it didn’t cause me any pain because she brought me something I’d never thought I’d have. Peace.
“Because,” I murmured, “she’s Mare.” It was simple, and I could only hope that he understood. I’d fucked up, yes, but that didn’t mean I didn’t love her.
Ian nodded. “And do you think blaming yourself is going to help you get Mare back?”
I frowned. “Excuse me?”
Ian dropped his arms and took a step forward. “I thought the question was pretty clear,” he said. “Do you think throwing yourself a pity party and acting like a teenage girl over the fact that you made a mistake will get our girl back?”
“I’m not throwing myself a pity party,” I gritted out.
“Oh no?” He arched a brow in challenge. Fucking prick. “You could’ve fooled me. What the hell have you been doing in the time since she was taken?”
“I told you what happened,” I pointed out. “As soon as it happened, I was debriefed.”
He nodded. “Yes, and then what did you do? You sat down and proceeded to think about nothing but all of the ways you fucked up. Did you think I brought you back here to yell at you?” he asked.
I shook my head, turning my cheek as I answered. “I thought you came back here to punch me,” I admitted.
“I don’t think I need to,” he replied. “I think you’re internally self-flagellating, and that’s not going to help us at all. If you love our girl the way you say you do, then get off your ass—stop feeling fucking sorry for yourself—and do something about it.”
“What can I do?” I ground out because there was no way in hell Iwasn’tgoing to help Mare. We’d vowed to take care of her, and we would keep that promise to our dying breath.
“Wolf’s going to find out about the assassin her father’s likely sent, and he’s got some of his contacts looking after Perelli. Archer’s onto his hacker friends, trying to track down some sort of payment—because you know there’s got to be something.”
I nodded, my mind working. Find the money, track it back, find the assassin, find Mare. That was the line we could follow, where Wolf and Archer’s hackers came in. But where didIfit?
“Guys!” Archer’s voice called us out into the living room, and after exchanging a tense look, Ian and I followed the sound.
Archer stood up, away from the table with the remote to the television in his hand as he stared at the flat screen TV mounted on the wall of our living room. The camera angled across a local area. The street was familiar to the three of us as we watched a pair of paramedics wheel a gurney towards the back of an ambulance. Unfortunately, however, whatever they’d found—or rather whoever they’d found, wasn’t alive. The sheet was drawn up and covering the person’s face.
I frowned at it until the screen flashed back to a news anchor, and a picture popped up in the corner. “Is that…?” Holy shit.
“We’ve just been informed that Charlotte Matthews, a woman who was reported missing by her boyfriend several days ago, has been found dead,” the woman in a blue pantsuit was saying.
“That’s…”
“The girl from Brutello’s,” Archer said.
I shot a look his way. “You don’t think…”
“The man has killed before,” Archer clarified.
“He knew who Mare was. He had to know. Perelli would’ve given him a photo of her. Even if it’s been five years, he would’ve recognized her.”
“Unless…” I turned to Ian, waiting when he didn’t finish his thought.
“Unless what?”
“Unless we’re dealing with something else,” Ian said. “What if we’re dealing with an actual stalker? We knew the feds had been watching her, trying to learn anything they could use against her father, but that stopped when she entered the protection program. The flowers? The angry notes? That’s not the behavior of a normal hitman; those fit a different kind of enemy.”
Then that changed everything. That changed every single piece of this puzzle.
I sucked in a breath and turned back to the television. The camera flipped back to the paramedics as they got into their vehicle and drove away, and all I could think or say was … “Fuck.”
