“Maybe,” Alex answered, certain he’d just entered the seventh level of Dante’s Hell.
“Well, giddy-up, then. What’s taking you so long? Move it, you damn dummy!”
God, help me to not kill him before we get home. Or after. Or ever. God, just please help me, damn it.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jameson heard the stealthy footfall outside the safe house a split second before Eric’s cell rang. Jameson was in the corner of the couch under the window opposite the intruder. Until that cell interrupted, he’d been discussing what happened the previous night with Eric and Harley, as well as what supplies came with the safe house. Sounded like Alex had thought of everything. Except how to make Maddie believe in herself.
She’d excused herself from the conversation, said she was tired, and had gone back to bed. He didn’t blame her. Yesterday had been a son of a gun. As brave and ferocious as she’d been last night, she’d reverted to her timid, self-effacing alter ego today.
“Guys,” he breathed, pointing to direct their attention. “Someone’s out there. North side. Six feet to the left of that window—”
“Already got eyes on him. Single male. Can’t be more than twenty-years-old. Checking the meter,” Harley murmured from the same location. “There’s another kid across the street. They’re going from house to house. No problem.”
“You’ve got eyes on him?”
“I do. Windows are lined with UV blocking solar tint. I can see out; he can’t see in. His company’s mini-truck’s parked on the curb.”
“Relax,” Eric assured. “All windows are bulletproof, and the walls are lined with reinforced steel. Besides, no one knows where we are.”
Jameson’s sixth sense flared. That prickly feeling he was missing something persisted. “Something’s still not right,” he growled as he pushed off the couch, moving quickly to Maddie’s room. He didn’t need his cane to get around in close areas like this house, but skimmed his fingertips along the hallway wall as he went.
Eric was instantly on his feet. “Fan out,” he ordered as he headed the other way. In the kitchen, he called, “Only vehicle on the street is the meter reader’s truck. There’s another parked a few doors north of us. Same logo.”
Harley was checking the bedrooms. “Clear,” he called from his room, then another “Clear,” from Eric’s.
Jameson cocked his head, listening earnestly for the sound of breathing as he opened her bedroom. “Maddie?” he asked as he stepped quietly inside, leaving the door open behind him. He knew the moment he said her name. “She’s not here,” he called out. “Window’s open.”
That brought Eric and Harley into her room. Harley went straight to the window. “No, no, no. Damn it. That woman’s smart. She jury-rigged a bypass to the security strip.”
“Why would she do that?” Eric asked.
“She did the same kind of thing last night,” Jameson replied, his heart pounding as he realized how fervently she accepted responsibility. “Once she found the overhead vent, we had a plan for her to run get help while I created a distraction. But after she cleared the farmhouse, she changed her mind. She said she couldn’t just run away and leave, that she had to save me. That was when she found Agent Morozov, worked her magic on him, saved his life, then started the fire that drew everyone out of the farmhouse.”
“That fire is how Adam, Eric, and Hunter found you,” Harley said.
“And Morozov wouldn’t be alive today if she hadn’t changed the plan like she did,” Eric added.
Jameson turned in the direction of his new teammates’ voices. “She always wanted to be a jarhead. She wants to serve. That’s what she’s doing now.”
“By running away?” Harley asked.
“She’s not running away. Not Maddie. She’s doing what every damned SEAL I’ve ever known would do. She’s going after Lucy Delaney.” He cocked his head, listening to the purr of a light-duty truck engine turning over. “How many trucks did you say, Eric? Two? Want to bet there are others canvassing the neighborhood, and she’s inside one of them right now, on her way to Boston?”
“But we don’t know where Delaney is in Boston,” Harley muttered. “Or if she’s still there.”
“I’m having a serious talk with that woman when we catch up with her,” Eric growled, then turned his head and said into his cell, “Boss. Damn it. Hate to have to tell you this, but Maddie fled protective custody about an hour ago. She said she was tired and was going to take a nap, but she bypassed the window security tape, and Jameson thinks she’s headed to Boston to go after Lucy Delaney.”
Everyone in the safehouse could hear Alex’s explosive, “What?!” followed by a string of vehement expletives, some so anatomically impossible they were laughable. Then a terse, “Is she armed?”
“Yes,” Eric reported evenly. “Nine-millimeter SIG, standard TEAM firepower. Two mags, courtesy of us wanting her to be able to protect herself.”
Jameson ran both hands over his head, wishing he were telepathic and could reach out and touch Maddie, wherever she was.
“Son of a bitch,” Alex hissed, his tone as sharp as before. “I… I can’t get away. Not right now. Son of a goddamned bitch! First Pops Delaney. Now Lucy Delaney. What the hell is Maddie thinking? She’s my Protocol Officer, not one of my snipers!”
“Understood. Never mind. We’ll take care of it,” Eric promised. “No worries. Already got a plan. We’ll find her.”
Dead silence hung between their pissed-off leader and his agents—for a couple seconds. Until Alex growled, “You’re damned right you’ll find her. You lost her. Do it.”
“Copy that,” Eric answered smartly.
But Alex had already disconnected.
“Hey, guys…” Harley muttered, a boatload of hesitance in his tone. “Alex told me something else when I talked to him earlier this morning. It’s private. He wouldn’t want me sharing details about his personal life, but there’s something else going on right now. I think you two need to know. It’s why he can’t get away.”
“Does it have to do with his father?” Eric asked. “Because you weren’t there
