Lori rolled her eyes. “Et tu, Brute?”

“I don’t like the quiet.”

Reed did a double take to make sure he saw who said those words.

Yep, Neil.

“Says the man of so many words,” Rick teased.

“He’s plotting something.”

“That’s two sentences in less than a minute. You feeling okay?” Reed asked, his words dripping with sarcasm.

Neil stopped him with a stare.

“I say we send somebody in.”

“Do you have a death wish? Petrov doesn’t play by any rules,” Reed said.

“He has a point, Neil.”

“We sit and do nothing?”

“Lori’s spontaneous trip this weekend can be one of many to keep her out of harm’s way.”

Reed looked up. “Where . . . ah, where did she go?” God, he hated being on the outside of her life.

Neil and Rick exchanged words with their eyes.

“Fine. Is she okay?”

Another pass of body language.

“Any more from Sasha?” Rick asked.

“That woman is mist. You feel her in the air but can’t see her.” Reed’s only saving grace in the entire situation was that with all the contacts and toys these men had, they had yet to find Sasha either. He couldn’t help but think the only reason he was still in the mix was because the woman had the propensity to contact him. “You can bet one thing about her. She’s the nail in Petrov’s armor. If he learns of her, he’ll either use her for his own gain or eliminate her.”

“You think she has something on Petrov?” Rick asked.

“Not sure about that, but my guess is she has information he wants.”

And no matter what Reed thought of the woman, she didn’t deserve to die.

“My guess is she knows that.”

“Hence the mist,” Reed said. “Much as I want to find the woman, I’m afraid that will just lead Petrov to her. And my karma can’t take any more women hating me.”

He was pretty sure Neil cracked a smile.

It was brief.

Rick looked at his watch. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he asked Neil.

His eyes shot to the clock in the hall, he muttered something, and double-timed his step out of the house.

“What fire makes that man move so fast?” Reed asked.

“His daughter has a ballet performance this afternoon.” Rick raised his hand about three feet off the ground. “Adorable. Gwen would have his nuts in a vise if he missed it for anything but life or limb.”

“Gwen?” Reed asked.

“Gwen’s the wife.” Rick stood. “Which reminds me of mine. And as great as your company is . . . there is someone much prettier that needs my attention.”

Reed was surprised they left him in the Tarzana home alone. Even if all the rooms were wired, and someone, somewhere, watched. Since he’d only really seen the downstairs, he took his time looking around. Upstairs, there was an office and two bedrooms.

The hallway walls were trimmed with black-and-white images. He recognized Sam center stage in one wedding photo, and then again in another with the same groom. “You must be Blake,” he said to the image. There was a picture of a German shepherd among the photos of the people. He recognized the former governor and his wife. Neil was hard to miss, but the expression on his face was one Reed never thought he’d see. He was staring down at a runway ready blonde. “Damn, Neil. I’m impressed.”

On the other wall were several different couples, a few group shots. Reed found the reason for Rick’s hasty departure.

Inside the master bedroom were full color canvas images of children. From the oldest kid in their early teens to babies. This wasn’t a family of blood, there were too many differences in the faces. No, this was a collection of friends.

He sat on the edge of the bed and tried to figure out which kid belonged to who. And like the old posters of hidden pictures, Reed’s eyes blurred as he imagined what Lori’s children would look like.

Then he woke up.

He ran his hands over his tired eyes and worked his way home. Before leaving his car, he dialed someone who wouldn’t shovel shit over him, someone he could trust to give him real advice.

“Hello.”

“Becca?”

“No way . . . my brother is calling me? You never call.” His sister did that fast-talking thing that made his head twitch. “Wait, is everything okay? You’re not sick, are you?”

“Lord, woman, you sound like Mom.”

“Is it Mom?”

“Can’t I just call to say hi?”

Becca paused. “Not unless you’ve turned over some kind of new leaf.”

His sister knew him well. “I need some advice.”

“Oh my God, you’re sick.”

“I’m not sick. Geez, paranoid much? You’re the older sister, I need woman advice. Mom would just tell me I’m perfect, and if anyone knows I’m not, it’s you.”

“Wow . . . hold on.” His sister moved the phone away, he heard the small voice of his nephew. “No, honey, it’s Uncle Reed. Go help your sister clean up the Play-Doh. Okay . . . sorry.”

“How are they?”

“They’re great. You’d know that if you visited once in a while.”

“I haven’t been good company.”

“Like that’s ever changed,” she teased. “Now what is this about a girl?”

The sobering current of his relationship with Lori spilled out, minus any incriminating details. And when he was out of words, he finished with . . . “I want her back.”

Becca paused, and then laughed. “Wow. There is screwing up, and then there is what you did.”

“Becca.”

“Okay, all right. You need to stack the deck . . . you are going to need her friends behind you or you’re not getting anywhere.”

“What about her brother?”

“Please, if someone did this to Rachel, you’d tie the man up in Times Square and throw rocks at him.”

The repeated image of fire ants made an unwelcome appearance.

“Fine, her friends.”

“And if this woman grants you five minutes, you need to make damn sure those minutes count. This does not sound like a woman who grants second chances. You’re going to have one shot, so make sure you know exactly what you’re going to say to make her stick around and listen.”

He could do that. “Right. You’re right.”

“One more thing.”

“Yes?” he asked.

“Flowers die, chocolate is fattening, and jewelry is a rich man’s gesture.”

“I’m not a rich man.”

“It might mean something, then. Could go either way.”

Reed smiled at the image of his pragmatic sister sitting in a room full of Play-Doh and cookies while she delivered advice.

“Love you, Becca.”

“Love you, too, pipsqueak. Good luck.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Reed answered his phone without looking at the number.

“The favors keep adding up, Reed.”

He dropped the fork that was halfway to his mouth. “What the—”

“Warehouse.” Sasha rattled off an address as he scrambled to find a pen. He wrote the information down on his hand.

“Is it Lori?” he asked.

“Her brother. Who all of you overestimated to be able to fend for himself.” Reed’s brief relief was followed by renewed panic.

“Why Danny? He doesn’t know anything.”

“Leverage. Desperate people do desperate things. Might wanna hurry. Petrov’s men are coming for the woman holding him, but will think of him as collateral damage and take the shot without asking. Bring backup. I draw the line at killing anyone for a job.”

“How many men?”

“She has two, I count three of Petrov’s goons. None of these men have tasted a carb in five years.”

“Stay out of the way.”

“Ahh, you care.”

He hung up in reply.

He walked right up to the terribly hidden camera in a vent, stared at it, and read off the address. “I don’t know what you guys are made of, but now is the time to bring it. They have Danny.”

And Reed was out the door.

His phone rang as he peeled out of the parking lot.

“Talk to me.”

“Sasha’s tip. They have Danny.”

“Who?” Neil asked.

“I’m guessing the woman Sam met with and two of her players. Minimum of three coming in to take her out.”

“And Dan?” Neil asked.

“She wants him alive. I doubt the others will care once bullets start flying.”

“We’re en route. You need to hold back.”

“The hell I will.” If something happened to Lori’s brother . . .

“Reed.”

“Bite me.”

“Fine, then at least duck.”

Lori and the girls were a tad cooked after the three-hour flight. The weekend had been exactly what she needed. Good friends, great conversation, and reflection did the job of refocusing her attitude.

They were waist deep in a conversation about the best series on Netflix when Cooper turned off the freeway after a brief conversation on his phone.