“Nein!” She turned to Signe. “Füttere keinen Hund!”
Right. Don’t feed the dog. She held up her hands. “Entschuldigung.”
The woman gave her a look, shook her head.
Yeah, that was familiar too—the look her grandmother had given her when she’d discovered Caesar. Tried to shoo him away.
Caesar kept coming back.
Not unlike Ham.
“Lucky dog. He picked the right girl to follow home from school.” Ham’s voice, whispering in her ear so many years ago when he’d found her in Chechnya. “He wasn’t the only stray you took in.”
Oh Ham. If only he knew.
Now she was the stray.
And he was the one calling her into the light.
Signe dug into her jacket to grab her wallet, and her hand closed around her phone.
It was an errant, forbidden impulse that made her draw it from her pocket.
Two missed calls.
Breathe. Only one person had her number. Well, two, but either voice at the end of the line could be lethal. For them.
For her.
For any hope she might harbor to keep everyone safe.
She pulled out some euros and left them on the table.
Then she got up and headed back to the hostel.
But on the way, she stopped in the middle of the bridge and dropped her phone into the water.
CHAPTER THREE
IT WAS THE HELPLESSNESS, the not knowing, that was driving Ham crazy.
That and the hum of frustration right under his skin that buzzed, kept him from sleeping.
He needed answers. Confirmation of his suspicions.
Some way to fix this.
Because his nightmares were playing out a scenario in his head that had the woman he loved—yes, he would always love Signe Kincaid—running around Europe with the Chinese or the Russians chasing her, the NOC list in her hand.
So he’d never been so glad to get on a plane. Because Ham couldn’t get his conversation with White out of his head, either. Crazy hope had lit inside him that maybe—please—White’s request had something to do with Signe.
Which would only mean, of course, that Signe was in trouble. That dragged up visions of her body washing up in some murky canal.
She hadn’t answered the phone. Twice on Sunday morning, and then five more times during the last twenty-four hours.
Ham wanted to throw something against a wall.
“Would you like a drink, sir?” The flight attendant stopped by his row on the morning flight to DC.
“Coffee, please,” he managed, without the growl he felt in his throat.
She filled his cup and set it on the tray. She posed the same question to Orion, who sat next to Ham, but he had his earbuds in so Ham nudged him.
Orion pulled them out. “Coffee.”
She filled a cup and he took it, turned back to the window.
So maybe they were all grumpy this morning. All but Jake Silver, who’d shown up wearing his earbuds and a grin.
Apparently, things were going well with Aria. Finally. Ham had invited her on the trip, but the pediatric cardiothoracic doc had surgeries scheduled. Still, Jake seemed a little less at loose ends, a little more focused since Aria had walked into his life and stayed.
But that’s what happened when you found the one your soul loved. You felt complete. As if the world had steadied beneath your feet.
Ham drew in a breath, tried to ignore the deep ache inside.
“Maybe your wife is still trying to protect you.” Garrett’s words stirred in his head.
That wasn’t her job. He was supposed to protect her.
He glanced over at Orion. “You okay?”
Orion nodded, his jaw tight as he stared out at the clouds.
Yeah, sure he was.
Ham didn’t have to do the math—Jenny had turned Orion down. Which made no sense to Ham, but then again, he was batting zero in the understanding-women category lately. They’d returned from dinner out on Sunday afternoon and Jenny had driven back to Minneapolis in her own car, while Orion rode with Ham. Orion said exactly nothing for two excruciating hours.
They arrived separately to the airport this morning too, and Orion barely spoke to Jenny, although she’d tried to engage him in conversation.
Nope. Orion could be stubborn when he wanted to be, and he’d walked ahead of them, bought a cup of coffee and sat three seats down from Jenny and Scarlett as they waited for the flight. Jake had shown up late, of course, wearing headphones, probably listening to a podcast, and now sat next to the women, watching a movie.
Once they got working, maybe things would work themselves out. Depending on what White said, Ham had planned a few days of urban SAR training with Pete Brooks, who ran point on one of the Red Cross SAR teams. Pete wanted to connect them with a K9 handler to familiarize the team with working with rescue dogs and some new tech they were utilizing.
It only made Ham think of that mangy dog Signe had loved so much.
Aw, shoot, he’d loved Caesar too.
Now Ham’s thoughts were back to Signe, and how when she believed in something—like rescuing a drenched dog—she went all in, refusing to give up.
“More coffee?” The flight attendant leaned over him with a tray of coffee cups. He took one. Nudged Orion.
Orion took two and set them on his tray.
“Need me to open a vein for you?” Ham said.
Orion looked at him, his eyes a little cracked with red. “How long is this field trip?”
“Fundraiser’s tomorrow night at the Patriot Hotel. Then we’re going to do some urban K9 SAR training for a few days.”
“Yippee,” Orion said. He looked back out the window. But not before his gaze fell on Jenny, sitting with Scarlett.
“Okay, buddy. What’s going on between you and Jenny?”
Orion sighed. “She said no.”
“I got that part.”
“It gets better.” Orion’s mouth tightened around the edges. “She practically shouted it for the entire town to hear. ‘No, I won’t marry you, Orion.’ Then she ran out of the joint like I was some kind of a jerk. I caught up with her at the car, and she was crying so hard she couldn’t talk, and when I tried to comfort her, she pushed me away like I really am a jerk and . . .” He shook his head and glanced at Jenny again, so much pain in his expression Ham had to look away.
How well Ham knew that expression. “So, she didn’t give you a reason?”
“Nope. We went back to the Marshalls’, she packed and left for Minneapolis. I tried to call her, but she didn’t pick up.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Maybe there’s nothing you can do.”
Orion shot him a look. “Yeah. How are you doing with not being able to fix things between you and Signe? Having fun yet?”
Ham said nothing as Orion stared back out the window.
The sky over Reagan airport was overcast and dour, rain spitting down. Ham ordered an UberX and they drove inside the Beltway to their hotel, just off the National Mall.
The Patriot Hotel, circa 1847, was a grand twelve-story building with white columns and had so much history embedded in its gilded walls, Ham felt as if he’d walked back in time. He stood outside the golden-hued reception area with more two-story columns and grand chandeliers and inhaled the sense that the place held a thousand secrets.