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“For now.”
“Is she unstable?”
He’s really asking whether she’ll shoot anyone on our security detail.
“No. She has a specific target.”
“More than one?”
Damn, he’s smarter than he looks.
“I suspect she’s going after her attackers from four years ago.”
“I sure would.”
That’s the first hint of unprofessionalism out of him.
“What you would or would not do if you were in the client’s shoes has no bearing on what you’re going to do right now, Gentian.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Expand the perimeter search. Disable all vehicles on the grounds. Check for hitchhikers. Call gun stores and alert them to anyone buying bullets that match my weapon.”
Someone speaks into his headset. Gentian murmurs back, then tells me, “All vehicles accounted for.”
Cold steel shoots through my gut. Good news.
“Then she’s on foot. Get as many guys in the field as you can.” I ignore the shoreline below. No way she got her hands on a boat. She knows how to jet ski and that’s it. Lindsay wouldn’t --
Wait.
The Lindsay I knew four years ago wouldn’t.
The woman I’m dealing with now?
Who the hell knows.
“Done.” Gentian speaks into his earpiece, then turns to me and asks, “Do we inform Senator Bosworth and Mrs. Bosworth?”
That cold steel in my gut turns into hot metal.
I rake my hand through my hair. My fingers smell like her. Smell like sex and fun and smiles and groans. Like freedom.
Like reclaiming.
And she fucking threw it away for revenge.
“Sir?”
I shake it off. “No. Not yet. Containment on all levels. Get her roped in, get this situation under control, and we’ll reassess if we can’t locate her quickly. Timeline silence.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And I want tails on all three of the targets.”
“Already done.”
“Add one more each.”
