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“So killer clowns are a no-go, too?” I purse my lips in thought. “Needles?”

That seems like a stupid guess given the tattoos on his neck, a canvas without an inch of space untouched. But I’ve heard that people with fear of needles can still get tattooed because their fear is only of beingpiercedwith a needle.

“I like pain, princess. Just like you.”

“I’ve never told you I like pain.”

“You’ve never had to.” He chuckles. “I can read you like a book.”

Another point I want to challenge him on, but I’m not ready to admit defeat yet. “Snakes? No, you look like the sort of psychopath who had one in his childhood bedroom.”

Moose laughs deeply, and I don’t know if it’s because I called him a psychopath or because he is one. “Wrong on both accounts. I’m not afraid of snakes, but that doesn’t mean I want to own them.”

“Spiders? Cockroaches?”

“Why would I be afraid of something I can crush under my boot? No.”

I’ve been asking him these questions like he’s a normal person, but Moose isn’t normal just likeI’mnot normal. He’s a man with abandonment issues. “Knocking up a one-night stand? Commitment?”

“I’m not afraid to commit to the right cause. And children don’t scare me.”

“But what about the idea of being responsible for a child?” I argue. “It’s objectively different.”

“No. I think I do a good job at this whole ‘protection’ thing, don’t you?”

I laugh so loud the woman in front of me turns to glare at us. Moose disarms her with a brilliant smile while I clap a hand over my mouth until the humor subsides. “You aren’t seriously telling me that you following me around is like being a father?”

Moose shrugs. “Just call me daddy.”

It takes a minute for the joke to sink in, and then I punch him in the shoulder, the both of us laughing together this time. “Not even if I liked you.”

Chapter seventeen

Remy

“Why me?” I ask as Kent and I approach the small silver car. “I have no military background, no tactical experience. Wouldn’t Rich have been better suited for this?”

The trees billowing around us sing a sad song, a haunting melody that whistles through the branches. The sun is bright in the clear sky, and the air smells like the fields of wildflowers surrounding us. It betrays nothing of the horror show that awaits us on the other side of all the brilliant colors.

“That’s why I chose you. Rich has a hard time hiding who he is.”

“And me?” I laugh. “If Davos knows I’m coming, wouldn’t you think his people know who to keep an eye out for?”

“No.” Kent assures me. “I promise you that even if they recognize you, these guys will think you’re here to partake.”

I won’t tell Kent, but I’m afraid of what we’ll see when we get in there. I’m even more afraid of what we mightnotsee.

If Davos had warning, who’s to say he didn’t have the place cleared and the captives moved? The devastation of another failure is more than I think we can bear, and this time, I have the senator waiting in the wings. If this mission is a bust, I’ll lose the trust and belief he’s placed in me. He doesn’t seem convinced that Lauren was taken for a purpose, but even if Claire isn’t his daughter, he’s willing to help for her connection to the woman he clearly never stopped loving.

The window rolls down a sliver as we approach the passenger side, and the man in it cranes his neck to look out at us. “Michael?”

“John Smith?” I ask, certain that this is the guy just by the way he looks at us… like we’re the hope he hasn’t dared to have.

“I—You’re him?”

“We’re here to help.” I assure him. “But you’re a big part of this. I need you to play it cool. Do what you always do.”

John Smith, which is certainly not his real name and just a pseudonym to try and protect him from our judgement, nods and unlocks the doors. I slip into the front seat while Kent slides into the back and leans into the center between us. The two of us switched into a nice set of suits before we got off the plane, and we look every bit the part we’re here to play.