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“With you,” he responds.
“Negative.”
Dead air.
“Gentian?”
“I don’t know, sir. No one’s seen her. Last we knew, she was locked in her bedroom with you.”
No trace of irony. No hint of teasing. If he had even one whiff of either, he’d have his ass handed to him.
And he knows it.
“She’s gone, Gentian. Find her.”
“Yes, sir.”
The instant flurry of activity in the house matches my organs. They rearrange themselves inside me as I assess the situation, which is pretty fucking simple.
Lindsay stole my gun and ran away.
Doesn’t get much simpler than that.
Last night was the first time in four damn years that I slept. Actual REM sleep. The night those bastards tortured us was the first night of my new life.
A life without sleep.
And last night?
I slept like someone who had finally come home.
“Jesus,” I mutter to myself. “Great job, Drew. She totally snowed you.”
I have to hand it to Lindsay. She fooled me. I believed her act the entire time. She managed to outwit us all.
Damn smart woman.
Damn dangerous, too.
A thousand points of information flood my mind. My job is to sort out the unimportant details, laser in on what’s significant, and create an instant plan from that.
Only one man is better than me in a situation like this.
Lucky for me, he’s a phone call away, and on my payroll.
Speed dial is my friend.
“ ’lo?” Mark Paulson’s sleepy voice answers the phone, and before I can say a word, he goes into full alert mode. “Paulson here. What do you need, Drew?”
Now that’s a soldier.
“My detail stole my weapon and escaped.”
Silence.
Yeah, I’m going to pay for this by being mocked for years.
“She what?”
