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He nodded at the IV in her arm, then at her ankle, still propped on a pillow and wrapped so tightly it looked mummified. “You, on the other hand, don’t go ripping those IVs out just yet. Doctor’s orders.” He tipped his head to one side. “And mine. I’ll tell you everything I can, but you need to stay put.”
Sasha pressed her lips together, fighting back the sharp, irrational spike of helplessness that threatened to overwhelm her. She was supposed to be by Gregorio’s side, not lying here useless while he fought for his life.
“What about my office manager?”
He scowled. “Office manager?”
“Ashley Lakin.” Quickly, she brought him up to speed, telling him about the odd things that had happened at the office and her home, the way Ashley had been overly concerned about Sasha’s whereabouts this weekend, and the phone call that came seconds before all hell broke loose at the Santos home.
“She was trying to warn you?”
The thundering in her head became a hammer. She would never have believed that Ashley was capable of betraying her. But even then—
She choked on a sob. “And I’m convinced that was a gunshot that cut her off.”
“We’ll check it out.”
No matter what, Ashley hadn’t deserved to be executed.
The door swung open, the sound sharp against the backdrop of steady beeping from her monitors.
Hawkeye walked in, his presence filling the small room with quiet authority. His expression was carefully neutral, but she caught the flash of concern in his eyes as he took in her condition.
Sasha straightened despite the protest from her ribs, squaring her shoulders. To hell with being treated like an invalid. “Debrief me.”
Hawkeye turned a chair backward and dragged it next to the bed then took a seat facing her.
Sasha hated this. The feeling of being sidelined, being handled like she might shatter. She’d been on countless missions. She was a professional who’d seen worse.
But her heart had never been invested before.
She forced herself to breathe through the frustration, counting each inhale and exhale while she waited for Hawkeye to speak.
“FBI’s officially involved,” he said finally, watching her reaction closely. “We turned over the photos you took at the house.”
“And the burner phone?”
“Burner phone?”
“Yeah. It’s with my personal one inside my jacket.”
Stryker inclined his head toward a small closet.
“Mind if I get it?” Hawkeye asked.
“Please do.”
Her belongings were in a large, opaque plastic bag, and he dug through her jacket until he found the two devices. “The bigger one,” she said.
He pocketed the phone. “Good job, DiLuce.”
If she lost Gregorio, none of this would have been worth it.
“Org Crime is on the case. I’ll see they get it soon.”
Meaning after Hawkeye conducted their own forensics. Probably for the best. Bureaucracy moved slow, allowing Argentum time to plan and react. Hawkeye was able to act much quicker. “What else do we know?”
“Mrs. Santos is safe,” he assured her. “She’s still at the safehouse. Her husband hasn’t contacted her.”