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Sasha squeezed her eyes shut. “And the Hawkeye agents at the Santos property?”
“One injury on our side. Two dead on theirs.”
Thanks to Gregorio.
If she lost him, she’d never recover.
She cut off that train of thought. He was going to make it, if only through the sheer force of her will.
“The rest of the Argentum thugs?” she pressed, proud that her voice remained steady.
Hawkeye’s expression tightened, and Stryker shifted, his easy charm replaced by coiled tension.
“Gone.” Hawkeye’s response was clipped and succinct.
Sasha gripped the coffee cup harder, the heat now burning against her palms. She shouldn’t be surprised. Argentum didn’t generally leave loose ends. “And no leads on Felix Santos?” She was guessing not, if he hadn’t contacted his wife.
Hawkeye and Stryker exchanged glances.
“None,” Hawkeye said finally.
“If we don’t get to Santos first—”
“There’s no we in this equation,” Stryker cut her off, his voice gentle but brooking no argument. “You need rest.”
“You don’t understand. My office manager might have been killed over this. And Gregorio…” Not to mention the injured Hawkeye agent who’d been on surveillance.
Frustration and fear crystallized into determination. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, ignoring the way the room tilted. “I need to—”
Stryker moved faster than she would have thought possible. His gripped her shoulders with surprising gentleness despite the absolute authority in his hold. The warmth of his touch seeped through the thin hospital gown, steadying her even as she tried to shake him off.
“You,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous level, “are running on adrenaline and determination. And considering you collapsed less than an hour ago, you’re not going anywhere.”
Sasha set her jaw, meeting his gaze with stubborn defiance.
But Stryker didn’t back down, his hands remaining steady on her shoulders until some of the fight drained from her. Only then did his grip ease, though he stayed close enough to catch her if she tried anything foolish.
“Call your parents,” he said, his voice gentling. The sudden shift from command to compassion caught her off guard. “They deserve to know what’s happening.” A shadow of understanding crossed his features. “And they’d want to be here. For both of you.”
She swallowed hard and looked away, unable to hold his knowing gaze. Stryker knew both of them from their time at Hawkeye, and he’d heard every word she said to Gregorio in the SUV.
Still, the thought of calling home made her chest tight. Stryker was right—her parents needed to know. But calling them meant her sister would hear about it too. And they’d find out about Gregorio. “It’s complicated.”
“Avoiding it won’t make things easier.”
Her fingers clenched in the thin hospital blanket, and she twisted the fabric until her knuckles went white. “Fine.”
Stryker nodded, satisfaction flickering in his eyes. “Good.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Because you’ll need clothes anyway. That hospital gown isn’t exactly your best look.”
Before she could summon a suitably scathing response, the door swung open again. Inamorata entered, her movements efficient and purposeful.
“We got a hit on Santos’ location.” Ever efficient, she spared no greetings, no preambles.
Sasha jerked upright, every nerve suddenly on high alert. Stryker’s hand returned to her shoulder, steadying rather than restraining this time.
“Traffic camera caught him near Salt Lake City.”
Finally.