Page 6 of Girl Lost (The King Legacy #1)
THE DRIVE FROM STRYKER’S HOUSE to the Kingdom MMA Gym took fifteen minutes , but Luna needed another fifteen to work herself up to go inside. Which was stupid. She’d walked into the apartment of a Pakistani arms dealer without backup—she could go into the gym and face her friends.
She could do this.
Some of her best memories were at this gym.
Luna smiled to herself. She’d had fun in the ring with the others.
The way Corbin used to wrap her hands before sparring, his touch gentle, his gaze warm.
How he’d stood up for her against some tweakers who’d tried to steal her backpack, his fists clenched, his jaw tight.
She’d felt safe with him, a feeling she’d craved after years of chaos and uncertainty.
They’d whispered secrets in the halls, shared dreams under the watchful eyes of Stryker.
Her smile faltered. She’d loved him. Thought he loved her too. They’d planned their future. A small house with a porch swing. A dog. A life far away from Millie Beach. A family. They were supposed to raise their daughter together. Be the kind of parents they’d never known.
A childish dream. A dream shattered when Corbin decided he didn’t want to be a father. Those were the kinds of thoughts that had kept her awake most of last night.
It didn’t matter. She’d moved on. Corbin didn’t want to be a father? Fine. Then he didn’t need to know that Stryker had promised to help her find their daughter.
That had been the other thing keeping her from sleep. Good thing she didn’t need much.
Luna flinched at the sharp tap of knuckles on her window, then smiled. A lot could change about a person from age thirteen to thirty-six, but she’d know that brilliant smile lighting up those dark, almond-shaped eyes anywhere.
Victoria Crew.
Except, no one dared call her Victoria unless they wanted a hard jab to the nose.
Tori whistled as Luna climbed out of her car. “Oooh whee! Look at you, girl!” Tori’s arms went out for a hug. “You’re lookin’ fiiiiiine, Mommie.”
Tori was a beautiful blend of Greek and Korean, but any time she set foot near the gym, her accent turned Puerto Rican. A token of her childhood upbringing in a foster home located in the Miami neighborhood known as Little San Juan.
Much like herself, Tori had always been a chameleon.
Hard-nosed and professional when the situation called for it, but she could turn on the charm in a blink.
It was how she was in the ring too. Coming at you hard and fast one minute, then loose and playful the next.
It threw her opponents off trying to keep up.
Luna grinned and hugged her friend for the first time in forever. She stepped back and made a show of looking Tori up and down. “Whoa. Girl, you’re lookin’ pretty hot yourself.”
Tori flicked the ends of her hair. “Different, huh?” She’d added chestnut highlights and cut it shoulder-length with chunky layers, giving her a trendy, tousled look.
“First time I’ve cut it in ... well, ever.
You remember the waist-length black curtain, right? This is new, like, a few weeks new.”
“Beautimus.” Funny, she’d always envied Tori’s long black hair, but this new look? It had attitude. Just like Tori.
Tori’s wide smile lost some of the brightness. She clasped Luna’s hand and squeezed it. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”
Luna didn’t like the knot that formed in her stomach. She owed her friends an explanation, but now wasn’t the time. “I talked to Jett. Stryker was kidnapped and he said—”
“I know. Jett called right after he talked to you. Blade caught the case. Harlee and I already started investigating. Unofficially, of course.”
Tori started walking and Luna followed, heading for the entrance. Tori kept talking. “Jett can’t make it. He’s in some sort of sensitive intelligence-sharing discussion.”
Luna’s heart sank a little. Hearing Jett over the phone had her longing to see him.
Tori said, “Harlee’s using Jett’s software to sift through the data he’s sent. We’re waiting for something to pop.” She talked like Luna hadn’t been gone for years.
“And Stryker’s computer?”
“That was easy. His password is literally ‘password’ with the ‘at’ symbol for the a .” Tori rolled her eyes skyward. “Ay bendito. The man hasn’t logged in to that machine in weeks.” She pulled open the door and held it for Luna.
Inside, the familiar thuds of gloved fists striking heavy bags and the sharp aroma of sweat and musk brought memories crashing back.
Nostalgia hit hard. Things were the same, but different.
She glanced around the room, half expecting to see Stryker on the mat with his training pads up, taking punches.
“Bigger, right? A few years ago, Stryker did a massive remodel. We have triple the square footage. Finally added both training rings.” Tori gestured to the square boxing ring and a hexagon cage with steel panels and vinyl-coated chain-link fencing for mixed martial arts fighting.
Wide-open ceilings exposed steel beams painted black to match the walls.
On the second floor, a horizontal mirrored window looked out over the gym.
Stryker’s corner office was gone, replaced by heavy bags of all shapes and sizes suspended from a rack made from steel beams. Treadmills, cardio, and weight-lifting equipment lined the wall on her right.
“Stryker turn this place into a fitness club?”
“Are you kidding? This is the place where fighters become warriors!” Tori flexed her bicep. Luna didn’t miss the baseball-sized knot that bulged out. “The men and women here are either in the Warrior program or they have a badge. Same as always.”
Stryker started the Warrior program as a mission to get delinquent kids off the streets and into the gym. Luna remembered how he’d marched into courtrooms, convincing judges that these troubled teens didn’t need juvenile detention, they needed structure. They needed purpose.
And so the program was born. Instead of sending kids like her to juvie, the courts began placing them with Stryker. His approach was simple yet effective. Martial arts training alongside law enforcement officers. Breaking down barriers one sparring match at a time.
Luna could still picture the separate dormitories he’d set up—boys on one side of the building, girls on the other.
Those plain rooms had been the first stable home many of them had ever known.
Including her. The rules had been clear.
Finish high school, attend church services, and put in cleaning hours at the gym. No exceptions, no excuses.
But Stryker had given back more than he’d demanded.
Food when they were hungry. Clothes when theirs had worn thin.
A place to sleep when home wasn’t safe. For Luna, it had been the first time an adult had ever followed through on their promises.
The first time someone had expected something from her and believed she could deliver.
They passed two sweaty men grunting and grappling on the floor mat and paused to watch. “That’s Chief Inspector Wilkins and Agent Jones,” Tori said.
“Wilkins has nice moves.”
“Another day I’d have you teach him a thing or two.” Tori elbowed her.
A few rounds of throwing a guy around could help clear her head, but she wasn’t here to relive her glory days. She’d come to do what CIA operatives did best. Recruit assets and collect intelligence. Even if that wasn’t her job anymore.
She jogged up the gunmetal gray stairs behind Tori. Their shoes clattered on each grated stair. They headed down a short hallway and hooked a right.
“This is the new office. It’s shared with all the trainers.”
The darkened office wasn’t what Luna had expected.
It looked more like the analyst room at Langley.
Each of the four desks had multiple monitors with some running video footage of the gym.
The hexagonal ring had cameras from every angle, and Luna imagined the trainers reviewed the fights for improvements.
The room was empty except for a woman sitting behind an ultrawide curved display.
“Brought you something.” Tori hoisted herself up onto the small conference table and sat with her legs pretzeled.
Harlee Bay swiveled in her chair and pinned Luna with a look somewhere north of the Arctic.
Aside from the sleeves of tattoos high on both arms, a scar cutting through her eyebrow, and a general air of menace, Harlee hadn’t changed much.
The Kingdom MMA Gym logo, a roaring lion wearing a gold crown, emblazoned the front of her tank top.
Luna wiggled her fingers in a wave. “Hey, Harlee.” Well, that was pathetic.
“Hey.” Harlee was on her feet, crossing the room. “Missed you round here.”
They hugged, stilted and awkward. Harlee avoided eye contact, glancing at Tori, her computer, the floor. Everywhere but directly at Luna. Frosty reception aside, it was good to see her friend. Were they friends?
Harlee wore her blond hair pulled into a chignon with stray tendrils falling around her heart-shaped face. She’d grown to somewhere around five-ten, and her athletic frame was firm and toned as ever. Tori and Luna used to envy Harlee’s six-pack abs.
Harlee swiveled her seat to face the screens and began clicking the mouse.
The monitor had several windows covering every inch of the screen.
A terminal window ran lines of code while another window flashed through photos one after the other.
Harlee had paused a video at the moment the Taser hit Stryker.
She peered over Harlee’s shoulder. “What’s all this?”
Harlee didn’t look at Luna. “While you were away, our boy Jett developed this software.”
“Facial recognition?” She wasn’t sure how that would help since the men wore masks.
“It goes beyond that. Pulls video from any camera connected to Wi-Fi for biometric surveillance. It’s military grade. Used by the NSA. It sees everything.”
Luna’s heart did a little stutter. “Jett created this for the National Security Agency?”