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The woman who had been wearing purple at the previous meeting fell into step with Lark. “How are you doing?”
“Uh. Fine.” She didn’t want to chat—she needed to get out of here, and fast.
The woman walked beside Lark, forcing her toward the refreshment table.
“Let me grab you a coffee.” The woman placed a cup in Lark’s hand.
Crap. She didn’t want coffee and new friends. She needed to get out of this place.
The woman smiled at her over the rim of her own cup.
Lark gave her coffee a quick sip. The liquid was lukewarm, as if it had been sitting out for a while cooling off.
Then a strange feeling hit her.
Her head swirled, and her fingers went lax around the cup.
Strong hands gripped her and swept her off her feet. Lark tried to struggle, to scream, and nothing came out. People grappled at her body. She felt something snap. The wire? Oh god, they’d cut the wire.
“This can’t happen here.” The male voice was muffled.
Another voice came faintly, but she made out the words. “Get her out during visitation hours.”
The fog swallowed her. Her mind drifted for long minutes.
When she came back to herself, quiet surrounded her.
Hmm.Whatever she was lying on…was kind of cozy.
ChapterSeventeen
Clay planted a hand on Quaide’s chest and shoved him hard. His friend rocked and shuffled back a step but came right back at him harder.
“Get the hell out of my way, Livingston. She’s not answering—something has to be happening in there!”
“Give her another minute.”
“It’s already been five since we lost contact!” His shoulder smashed into Quaide’s as he circled him and took off in quick strides to the doors of the church hall.
Quaide leaped in front of him, barring his way. “Don’t make me take you down, Lexis. Give her a chance. For all you know, she just can’t respond with so many people around.”
Clay’s nostrils flared with a puff of air. Thatwassomething Lark would do.
He pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand and depressed the comms device in his ear that linked him to Lark.
“Lark. Answer me.”
Dead air was his only response.
Clay narrowed his eyes at Quaide. “That’s it. I’m going in.”
Without another moment’s hesitation, he surged around his buddy and rushed to the door. Sentry was still only a team of one. Two if he counted Lark.
Fuck, this entire op had been sinking since the minute she showed up on his doorstep. Together, they’d been paddling long and hard to stay afloat, but fact was, he needed to get them both off the ship. To hell with blackwillow73 and all the other crap going on with the FBI behind the scenes.
Nothing mattered but getting Lark out of danger and to safety. Maybe the Wynton Ranch back in Montana could use another female ranch hand. The WEST team members owned the ranch, and he had every confidence that she’d be safe there.
He pictured Lark on a cattle ranch, red curls mashed beneath a cowgirl hat that more than likely Corrine Wynton would lend to her. Lark wouldn’t like hiding from the world, but she’d cope. She was a survivor.
