Page 22 of Doyle

“Feels like it, the way Sebold ordered him around.”

“He loves Jamal. He’ll protect him.” She looked away, a sort of fury in her expression. “We need to call the authorities.”

“I don’t know what they can do,” Doyle said. “S-7 is heavily armed, and the small police force is afraid of them. We could try to get some outside help, but...”

“What about you, Mr. Navy SEAL. Can’t you help?”

Stein cocked his head. “You heard the heavily-armed part, right? I will try to figure out something, but I am not a one-man army. I was part of a team.” He glanced at Doyle, his mouth tight, and looked away.

Huh.

Clearly, Stein had thoughts he wasn’t sharing.

“We can’t just let them steal from us and kidnap—or coerce—our children. If we don’t stop them, who will?”

And maybe it was her words—almost the same ones that Juliet had spoken so many years ago:“If we don’t go, who will?”—or possibly the look on her face, the anger, desperation, horror?—

But just like that, the swell of grief rifted over him and his knees buckled. Doyle turned, covered his face with his hands.

Deep breaths.

Silence.

“Bro?” Stein said.

“Yep,” Doyle said.

The waves hit him less often these days, but when they did, they could still take him down.

He put his hand on the wall, trying to find himself. Looked at Tia. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and then we’ll figure this out.” He glanced at Stein. “You think Declan and his guests are safe?”

“They’re locked inside his compound. I can check everything on my phone.”

“You mind hanging out at the monastery?”

“No problem.”

He opened an exam-room door and flicked on the light. A metal table sat in the middle of the room. He helped Tia onto it.

Stein stuck his head in. “Quick patrol, then I’m locking down the convent.”

“Monastery. Go.”

Tia wore what an expression of what looked like relief on her face.

Oh. Yeah.Stein had that SEAL charisma that women seemed to like.Whatever.If they really knew the man...

Aw,that wasn’t fair. Stein was a great guy. Just came with baggage.

Shoot,so did he.

He found gauze and butterfly bandages and chlorhexidine in a cabinet, put them on a tray, and snapped on gloves. Then he found a swab and started to clean her wound.

Just a nick on her throat, but an inch higher and...

“I’m okay, Doyle.” She caught his wrist. “If it weren’t for?—”

“Stein, I know. He’s Superman.”

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