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Elizabeth continued.
“The shrink needs to come here. Are you telling me he’s getting better?”
No one went there.
Why?
Because he wasn’t. If anything, he was slipping further away, and that was an issue.
That was her point.
“What if I make it up to you?” she asked. “You know…sweeten the pot to add a little perk to the insult I’ve clearly given.”
There really wasn’t anything that would make it up to them.
Their place was sacred.
They liked not dying and being ambushed, and that had happened there once.
They’d barely made it out.
The warehouse was gone, and all that was left was Chartres, the bunker, and their private home where they stayed on occasion in the heart of the French Quarter.
They’d just emptied the place out and were bringing everyone in.
Elizabeth was willing to bargain.
“I’ll get you a new location like the warehouse. I already have someone working on it. That will be step one.”
They were curious.
“And?” Zayn asked since she’d already promised that new location. It was going to take a lot to let a complete stranger into their home.
She whistled, getting her security’s attention.
When Ivan came in, he was carrying boxes of things, and he took multiple trips.
“I am not your pack animal,” Ivan said when he dropped the final case. “Hire someone to schlep your shit next time.”
She snorted.
“You’re cranky today. Go eat something before you let the hangry out, Toadstool.”
He flipped her off, making her laugh.
“What’s all this?” Zayn asked, curiously.
Elizabeth knew that when you put bait in a trap, it had to be the right kind of bait.
What did you give Marines?
Fire.
Power.
The jet with the things she’d asked Axelle to send had finally made it, and she was going to share.
“Something that might make you guys a little happier about having a therapist come here.”
