He looked at his watch. “A little early to be playing Wonder Woman, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, but whatcha gonna do? The bad guys don’t keep office hours.”
“The blow to your cheek…” He twitched his head this way and that as he ran an assessing look over me. A retired SEAL, there wasn’t going to be much that was missed by his scrutiny. “Did you take any other hits?”
“Just the one. Beefy fist, though. Had I not rolled with the punch, I would have face-planted.”
He frowned. “You called Dr. Carlon?” Dr. Carlon was a traumatic brain injury specialist who treated both of us for our ongoing issues with head traumas—Reaper sustained his from his time with SEAL Team Six. Me, well, I got mine from dodging criminals.
Dr. Carlon was cutting edge with her approach and one of the kindest, most accessible people that I knew.
“I called her first thing after the situation cleared. If it’s an emergency, go to the ER. Other than that, she can work me in on Monday afternoon.”
“Too long.”
“I’m not going to the ER for a swollen cheek.”
“I’m not going to lecture you, Lynx. But I am going to insist you take my appointment with her today.” He pulled his phone from the cargo pocket on his Iniquus camo pants. “I’ll call and tell the receptionist that’s the plan. I can wait until Monday for my checkup. You can’t.”
I touched my throbbing cheek. “Are you sure?”
“I insist.”
“I insist, too,” Kate said. “You know what we’ve been through with Reaper’s brain injuries. You do not want his experience. It’s a terrible way to live, for everyone involved.” She sent a glance toward her husband and swallowed. “You just don’t want that. Take the appointment.”
I nodded. “What time?” I still had the CIA and FBI…
“Four-thirty,” Reaper said. “And I can see you’re mentally checking your to-do list. But this takes precedence.”
“Four-thirty. I can do that. Well, you’re right. No matter what was on my agenda, I would move it for this.” I touched my heart. “Thank you so much.”
“And now that I’ve buttered you up with my doctor’s appointment,” Reaper said, “we have an ask.”
“Sure.” I started climbing the stairs to give Little Guy a kiss.
“We were hoping you’d watch the baby tomorrow night,” Kate said. “Reaper and I are getting some things together for Gator and Christen’s wedding.”
“Oh, that’s an easy yes. Tomorrow is the neighborhood parents’ night out.”
When I was first hiding from the serial killer, I bought my house. It felt safe to live across the street from my dad’s good friends, the Murphys. Dave Murphy was a detective with the D.C. P.D.
It felt safer knowing someone I loved was nearby.
This was a working-class neighborhood. The parents were in jobs that didn’t allow for frills and extravagances. While they might come up with the money to pay for a movie or dinner out, add in the cost of a babysitter, and that was prohibitively expensive.
Once a month, I have a neighborhood sleepover. All the kids come and camp out on my living room rug or under a blanket fort made with my dining room table. This gave the parents a reliable night that they could depend on to relax. The following morning, we had a potluck brunch and hung out together. It was really lovely. I looked forward to my time with my neighbors, whom I regarded as family.
I petted a hand over Little Guy’s silken strands of hair. In his sleep, he was making a silly smile, drunk on his baby formula.
Though he was five months now, Little Guy had never been to one of the sleepovers. Kate wasn’t quite ready for that yet. Even being right next door, she was still a mama bear and didn’t like to leave her baby with anyone other than Reaper, so Kate’s leaving the baby with me was a big deal.
“We won’t leave him all night,” Kate qualified. “We thought we’d work on the wedding list and then get some dinner out. Home by nine.”
“It’s fine. No worries.” My cheek throbbed when I sent her a smile.
“Thank you,” Kate said as she made her way through her front door.
“I’m calling Dr. Carlon now.” Reaper looked down at his phone screen, scrolling with his thumb as he moved through the screen door and out of sight.
“Thanks,” I called after him.
I checked my phone for the time. It was insane all the things that had happened and how hours on my clock didn’t seem to keep up with the frenetic happenings of today.
I had an hour before Striker would pick me up for the CIA.
Could I get myself spiffed up enough in that time that he didn’t freak out?
Hmmm. Doubtful. But I’d try, starting with a shower.
.
***
When I was Spyder’s mentee, one of the things that Spyder had impressed upon me was that I should maintain a low profile. No one should be able to trace my professional life back to my personal sphere.
Stakeouts, placing surveillance, interacting with the crime players, I should always be incognito.
This morning, I had sort of complied with Spyder’s directive. It had been my intention to play it very low profile. I was just going to slip into a back booth, pretend to play on my phone, and get a lay of the land. Gathering a few impressions of Modesty, Destiny? This would mean I could bring my observations to the FBI with me.
Still, I wasn’t sure I’d connected with the right person.
I guessed I’d find out this afternoon at the FBI.
With my hair in hot curlers, I studied my face. Yeah, I thought that the makeup lessons Spyder had given me would mostly hide this.
Spyder was a skyscraper of a man, thin like a flagpole. His gorgeous skin
