Cuff Lynx by Fiona Quinn Read Free Book Online

bed. Striker and I just stared at each other – no words at all.
    When the nurse came back in with a “Time’s up,” I left.
     
    “Her code name is Scarlet Vine,” Axel said from the driver’s seat. The red traffic light rocked in the wind. “It doesn’t surprise me she found some way to circumnavigate us. She and Striker are working a new case. He’s back undercover.”
    “But using his given name?” I asked from the middle of the back seat, tightly sandwiched between Gater and Blaze. We had dropped off Suz at her house, and I think exhaustion kept the guys from switching places for the short ride back to the Iniquus barracks.
    “They have a cover. I’m not sure what those theatrics were about,” Axel said.
    “Yes, you do,” Blaze replied. I could see Axel using the rearview mirror to focus on Blaze then back to the road.
    “Okay, here it is, Lynx.” Gater said. “Long before you were around, Striker and Vine were close.”
    “Jack and Suz kind of close?” I asked.
    “It happened a long time ago. And it’s over,” Gater replied.
    Not if you were standing in my shoes in the hospital doorway. Vine worked to entwine herself around Striker, pulling the slack tight. Priorities, Lexi. He’s alive. He’s going to fully recover. What else matters right now?
    Jack. Jack matters right now . I felt like I’d abandoned him by going home. But Colonel Grant ordered us to leave and get some sleep. Scarlet Vine was an issue for another day. She hit way too low on my priority list.
    “Axel, I’m still trying to wrap my brain around how this all happened,” I said.
    “Me, too,” Axel replied. In Strike Force chain of command, Striker was lead, Jack was second, and then Axel came next in line. I stood in no one’s chain. I only answered to the Iniquus owners - Elliot, Grant, and Spencer. “You need some shut eye,” Axel said. “We all do. We’ll work on piecing it together tomorrow.”
    “But it was too exacting. The placement of the D.O.A. boys—”
    “Tomorrow. I’m taking you back to the barracks. Gater’s going to sleep in Striker’s guestroom. I want him on hand if you need support. Blaze said he had an accident, and you took a tumble. How are you feeling?”
    “Numb.” I resisted laying my head on Gater’s shoulder. After what he’d been through today, it should be me taking care of Gater, and not the other way around. The light turned green, and we motored through the streets of sleeping DC. I closed my eyes to pray and send Reiki healing energy, once again, to Jack and Striker.
     
    Warmth. Skin on skin. A whisper in my ear. I came back from my meditative state and into the here and now.
    “We’re at Iniquus, Lynx. Do you want me to carry you up?”
    Gater. I shook my head. Gater lifted me down from the Hummer, guided me up to Striker’s apartment, and tucked me into bed. I rolled over, pulling the blanket over my head.
    Fuck today.

 
    Six
     
     
    T he next morning, Axel stood at the whiteboard in the Puzzle Room. Striker commanded our team like we were in the SEALs. After a mission, he broke down everything – what worked, what didn’t, where could we improve? During this meeting, he treated everyone on equal footing. There was no shame and blame, only data gathering and decision making about training needs.
    This was like any other post-mission debriefing, except Jack and Striker were still at Suburban Hospital. The doctors upgraded Jack’s status to stable this morning. He had passed the critical markers. Thank you, God . And they were optimistic that Striker would be released in a day or two.
    I watched my team cobbling together at least the beginnings of a theory. How in the world had this happened? It was as if Strike Force was involved in a historical reenactment where both sides had scripts they were supposed to follow. As if we had faxed over our plans, right down to the timeframes and schematics. How did the D.O.A. have those men so precisely placed? The only thing I