Sitting two seats down the table from Addison, Devon watched
her process the information that her brother was alive and being held captive.
Everyone at the table remained quiet, even Angie, whose ADHD usually resulted
in her talking to fill the silence. She still shifted from foot to foot, pain
and empathy etched on her face, but she stayed quiet.
The urge to push back from the table and gather Addison in
his arms was almost overwhelming. It wasn’t his right or his place and she
didn’t seem the type to accept such overt, public comfort. Not from a virtual
Knowing that didn’t help tamp down the rage burning inside
him. His palms itched to touch her—had itched to touch her since the moment
he’d walked into the conference room. A strand of hair had fallen at her
temple, and he wanted nothing more than to cradle her head, push that lock of
hair away from her temple, and tell her it would be okay. Take all the hurt and
pain she desperately tried to hide and promise her he would make it okay. They
were going to help her and get her brother back—whatever it took.
Addison rubbed her hands against her forehead twice before
lowering them to the table. Her cheeks puffed out as she blew out a breath
before sipping her coffee.
“So, they’re in Crimea?” she asked.
“We believe so, yes,” Graham said softly.
“How did they get there from Syria?”
“We’re not sure how the events in Syria played out, but they
were probably moved overland to the Black Sea,” Paige said. “Crimea is a hotbed
for black market activity.”
“If the military isn’t going to help, what about the State
Department?” Addison asked.
Graham shook his head. “They have no presence in Crimea and
they’re prohibited from traveling there, so there’s no help on that front.”
“Then what?” Her voice caught at the end, and Devon clenched
his jaw, watching her struggle to stay calm. “What good is knowing he’s alive
if there’s no way to get him?”
Searching the room as if looking for an escape, or a
lifeline, her gaze found his. If he could only touch her, but he wasn’t close
enough. All he could do was convey his support through his gaze and provide a
Paige did what Devon couldn’t—wrapped her hand around
Addison’s. “We’re going to get him, Addison—him and Michael.”
“We who?” she asked.
Finally, Devon had something to give her—a promise he swore
not to break, no matter the cost. “Us. TLC. We’re going to get him.”