Page 77 of Secret Mission

Leaning back, she takes a beat to search my expression. “The depth of your character makes it hard for me to breathe sometimes.”

Well. Hell. Emotion surges into my throat. “I’m not that complicated. But we’ve also got a lot to talk about, Doc.”

“Roger that.” The corners of her pretty lips tip. “I’m not sure why I said that like something you would like.”

Crazy how often she makes a broken man laugh. “Just fucking cute.”

This time when she pushes me, I let her.

“Come on. Let’s get the walk of shame part over. I’m okay now.”

Justice, armed and ready, has a sheepish look when we step out.

I throw him a keep-your-fucking-mouth-shut glare. “She’s on a mission to find out if her friend is okay.”

Justice makes a noise as his boots thump on the tile behind us. “Is she pretty?”

Allison doesn’t stop—the woman is a freight train blasting down the long corridor. But she’s quick with her reply. "Spoken like a true bachelor."

"Just making conversation." There's that playful lilt in his voice

“And she’s not blonde by the way.”

Justice wings a look at me, and I shrug. “So, I told her you have a type.”

“Dude, that’s guy convo.”

This time, Allison throws us both a glance over her shoulder. "Focus, guys. We’ve got our work cut out for us. We need to see your brother, find Rosalie, and figure out what my father is doing with that sample."

That freight train with the squishing boots and the cute ass is moving so quickly she almost collides with a nurse.

My alarm system goes into high alert. Hair disheveled, hands waving, the woman is breathless. “Mr. Reese! Mr. Reese!”

Pushing Allison behind me, I sandwich her between me and Justice. “Yes, that’s me. Is there a problem?”

“Is your brother in the room you were in?”

Fuck. Worry and anger coil up like a snake. No matter what this is about, it isn’t good.

“No. Why?”

Seconds ago, bright with exertion, the nurse suddenly has a complexion that matches the tile floor. “He’s not in his room. He wasn’t supposed to be up yet. And we can’t find him.”

Here’s the thing about Axle. He’s a wiley motherfucker. The bastard could have walked out himself as soon as his head cleared from the anesthesia. Or…

Justice strides to the window that overlooks the parking lot. “Do you think he’d leave?”

“That’s entirely possible.”

Allison, worrying at her lip, touches the woman’s arm. “Try not to be upset. These men can take care of any problem. Do you have a security office?”

“Si.” Pointing, she indicates a wing that we had not walked through. “There, at the end, near the parking area.”

I follow up with, “Do they have cameras?”

This genuinely perplexes the woman. Her shoulders lift. “Maybe?”

“This is Vandemora,” Justice offers. “If this were the States, they’d have cameras on the exits.”

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