Page 49 of Rogue Mission
“En route,” Evan responds tersely. “ETA twenty-two minutes. Any other updates?”
A beat passes. He’s speeding up, the engine growling louder as he asks, “How long since you’ve heard from them?”
My stomach clenches. “Who is he talking about?” I ask quietly, hating how my voice shakes.
Camile glances across me to Allison as her brow furrows.
“Well, it sounds like,” she whispers, “he’s talking about… Justice and Beast.”
I’m not sure what is worse, getting shocked in the stairwell—or this.
Evan completely blocks all questions for the next twenty-two minutes, even when Camile and Allison team up on him. They might as well be talking to a brick wall.
It’s not until we get to the new safe house that all hell breaks loose when Allison confronts Truck.
“What’s going on?” she demands as soon as he unfolds his tall, muscular body out of his Agile Security & Rescue vehicle.
“I need all of you in the house. Now.” He crowds her, herding us all toward the front stoop of the modern home.
“We’re a team now,” she says to him, even as she lets him guide her to the doorway. He’s scanning around the house as he enters a code, uses a digital palm reader, and gives a voice command.
Allison, blocks his path, raising her chin. “We’re a team. That means you talk to me.”
He growls something, shoves open the door, and forces the three of us inside. “Stay here. I’m clearing the house.”
Two of the man are in a tense conversation in the yard.
“This is bad. I feel it in my gut,” I say to Allison.
“I have to agree,” she replies. “But try not to get too freaked out, things are always happening with this kind of job.”
Well, I’m not used to it.
Knowing I’m perfectly safe with all of the Agile team around, I push between them and jog across the lawn toward the boss.
I want answers.I’m going to the guy who will know them.
He looks up from a laptop he has perched on the hood of the truck when I reach them. Neither of them looks happy. That alone makes my spine tighten.
“Have you heard from Justice and Beast?”
Marshall studies my face for a beat, assessing something before he clears his throat.
“No. In fact, they’ve been in a crash. I’m waiting on more information, but according to the police reports, it’s definitely our truck—but both men are unaccounted for.”
No. This is impossible.
“Oh God,” I wheeze, and I must sway because Evan grabs my arm to steady me.
“Let’s go inside. We can update everyone at once when the property is secure. I don’t like you being outside,” Marshall says, scanning the road we used to come into the property.
“What does that mean, unaccounted for? Are you saying they’re missing?”
As I wrestle my arm free from Evan, they share a look that pisses me right off.
“I’m not some child to be coddled. What happened, where did they go, and how could this possibly happen?”
“They were going to Westerly’s headquarters when?—”
