Page 16 of What Remains

“Well, my source is solid,” she insists as if I’ve challenged them at any point. I haven’t. Might start questioning them soon, though. “We’re close to finding out the truth, I can feel it.”

“Close feels a lot like nowhere.” I swap my glass for my hat and stand. “I’ll check the hangar. Try and see what the package is before I’m airborne tomorrow.”

“Don’t give up,” she says softly, using a tone I rarely hear from her. “Have some faith.”

“Yeah, well, I’m fresh out of that.” I park my hat on backward, swing open the door, and leave, not slowing until I hit the airstrip, the cicadas screaming every step of the way.

Inside the hangar, I pour another whiskey from my stash and wait, pretending to tinker with the plane. I do my best to silence my mind, to not think about Zoey’s question—the real reason I’m here.

To avoid Gwen.

I can’t help but wonder how that op went last month. Has she gone out again? What was her Christmas like? She kiss anyone on New Year’s Eve?

Is she dating that hacker now? Julian’s thirty-five, so he’s closer in age to her. It sure as hell seemed like he was into her while they chatted online the past few years before meeting in person. Not to mention how he looked at her on the op we worked together—the mission Julian’s family dragged us into that brought down my bird.

That last thought has me adding more whiskey to the glass.

She was mine to protect, not mine to have. Not allowed to be jealous. So what if she’s dating him. It makes sense. They’re practically cut from the same nobility-rich, cyber-loving cloth.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, and it takes the growl of an engine outside to snap me back to where I am.

A cargo plane descends, kicking up dust and leaves.

Please be a crate. Anything but human.

Jezebel arrives shortly after on an ATV. She’s flanked by her guards, headlights slicing through the dark.

My stomach drops when the plane door opens, and two men drag a woman out.

She has on a prison-orange jumpsuit and a black hood covers her head, but her blonde hair is visible. Wrists and ankles bound. Probably doped up.

When Jezebel yanks off the hood, my world—every sound, breath, including my heart—stops. The glass falls from my hand and hits the concrete, but I don’t hear it break.

Nothing exists past this moment. Not my mission. Not the jungle. Not Jezebel. Just her. The “package” I’ll risk everything to save.

I don’t know what they want with her, but I know one thing. There isn’t a chance in this lifetime or the next I’ll fail Gwen again.

CHAPTER 5

Gwen

It’s the hangover from hell coming off the drugs these bastards gave me.

My brain’s buffering, running on corrupted code. I can’t see anything clearly, let alone use logic and reason to try and make sense of my surroundings.

I shake my head, like that’ll magically help me recalibrate, but the world continues to glitch. Blurry frames skipping and jump-cuts spliced by whoever’s directing this nightmare. All I can hear is the faint hum of the engines from the plane behind me.

I stretch open my mouth, forcing a yawn, hoping it’ll help my ears. No relief, but the little dots in front of my eyes are finally going away.

And great, there’s an unmasked woman in front of me. She’s saying something, but it might as well be in a foreign language, because my hearing is still working on a different frequency.

I truly have no clue how these arseholes pulled off one of the greatest heists of the century by stealing me, and I haven’t had time to think much about it because of the stupid drugs. Not until now.

After being thrown into the SUV, I was drugged and woke up on a yacht. The kind of yacht that has a helo pad. From there, I was flown to a private island that had its own landing strip, forced to board a plane, and now . . .

Where the heck am I?

The woman before me is letting me know she’s a green-eyed brunette in her forties, so there’s no way she plans on letting me see my family again.