Page 12 of Tango (Hunt Brothers Search & Rescue #4)

Tucker

A lice Sterling is absolutely stunning .

The pictures of her online and that brief interaction we had at her parents’ house did not do her justice, and as I stand here in front of her, I have to actively remind myself not to stare. Because—she’s breathtaking.

She’s on the shorter side, nearly a foot shorter than my six-foot-two.

Her obsidian hair is long and wavy, falling all the way to her waist. I honestly have no clue how she managed to hide that underneath the baseball cap she’d been wearing when I found her in that basement.

Or how I failed to notice the length of it when I’d been standing feet away from her in that living room.

Her eyes—a crystal blue—are so pale they don’t seem real.

And then there’s the spark in her soul. The fight that has been evident since the moment we met.

“We can take it,” I tell her, clearing my throat in hopes of pulling my attention away from the dark-haired beauty and placing it firmly in the present where it belongs.

I’m here to figure out whether or not I believe Alice Sterling is a murderer and a thief, or if she’s just someone in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“I’m assuming you already know my background.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“Your parents passed away when you were young; you were adopted by the Sterlings when you were thirteen. Graduated high school as valedictorian, excelled in college, degree in cybersecurity. How am I doing so far?”

“You forgot that I prefer crunchy peanut butter to creamy and can’t stand marshmallows.” Her tone is annoyed, and it only amuses me further.

“I’ll be sure to bookmark that for later, though the marshmallow thing is crazy.

” I cross my arms. “Walk us through what happened the day Ramiro died.” I settle back in a chair, ready for the story.

Tango sits beside me, his gaze firmly on Alice.

He’s likely assessing the situation just as I am, waiting for a command.

Dylan remains standing, not at all unusual for him, and Delta leans against him—something the animal does whenever he senses Dylan’s fight response triggering.

Which, unfortunately, happens fairly frequently.

Alice remains close to the door, a quick getaway her main focus at the moment. Not that I can blame her. If she is innocent in all of this, then she’d be foolish to trust us after everything she’s been through. Even taking into consideration my role in rescuing her parents.

“Ramiro was always the more social out of the two of us. I focused pretty heavily on my job, and that was it. I’d hang out with him, but aside from that, I wasn’t big on company socialization.”

“Any particular reason why?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I’m not a people person. I’m better with computers.”

“Except with Ramiro,” Dylan comments.

“Except with Ramiro,” she repeats. “He was just different. Focused at work, and fun outside of it. He pushed me out of my comfort zone, and I enjoyed it.”

“Were you two romantic?” A tendril of completely unnecessary jealousy snakes through me. Likely just because she’s a beautiful woman, but it’s unwanted, so I shove it aside.

“No. He wanted to be, but I just didn’t see him as anything more than a friend.”

“I’m assuming he wasn’t happy about that?” Dylan asks.

“Not at first, but he got it.” She narrows her gaze. “Is this my story or your interrogation?”

“Both. Continue,” I tell her as I withdraw my small notepad and pen from my front pocket.

“Anyway, Ramiro called me out of the blue and told me that he needed to talk to me right then. He said we had to meet and it couldn’t wait until Monday morning.

It was Saturday,” she adds. “I was on a date, but it wasn’t going well, so I told him I got called into work and asked that he drive me home.

He did, and Ramiro was sitting on the steps when he dropped me off. ”

“I’m assuming he didn’t care to see you get out of another man’s car,” Dylan says dryly.

“To be honest, I don’t think he even saw me get dropped off. It wasn’t until I was right in front of him and I’d said his name twice that he even looked up. And even then, he seemed surprised I was back.”

“Did he appear to be visibly upset too? Or just distracted?”

“Both? He seemed upset and super distracted by whatever it was.”

I make a note on my notepad.

“What did he want to talk about?”

She starts to cross her arms but hisses in pain when she moves her injured arm. I note the way she favors it. She was shot, I remember, mentally kicking myself for that not being the first thing I did when we got here.

“Let me look at your arm,” I tell her, pushing up from my seat and setting my notepad down on the table.

“It’s fine. I just rewrapped it.”

I eye her. “I’m good with injuries in the field.

” My gaze nearly shifts to Dylan, but I keep it trained forward.

Many of the wounds I’ve dealt with were his.

My stomach still churns when it slips into the forefront of my memory.

Even after we’d rescued him, he’d been a man with a death wish, running into situations without thinking them through.

“Fine. But you’re wasting your time.” She pushes off the door and heads into the kitchen, taking a seat on one of the barstools.

“Noted. So what did Ramiro want to talk about?” I wash my hands then head back over and start unwrapping her arm.

“He said he believed someone in the company was using their access to remove certain protections.” She speaks through gritted teeth, clearly in pain with every slight movement.

I remove the wrapping then gently pull the gauze pad away.

The skin surrounding the bullet wound is an angry shade of crimson.

The edges are swollen, and upon closer inspection, I see a glint of glass buried in the injury.

No bullet though. And from the angle, I’d say it just grazed her.

My guess is the glass is what’s causing the infection. The wound can’t heal.

“Have any run-ins with a pane of glass?” I question, momentarily shifting the direction of our conversation.

“Maybe. Why?”

“There’s a chunk of glass buried in your arm. It needs to be dug out before the injury can heal properly.” I raise my gaze to her pale one and note that her face has paled even more. “Dylan can hold you, so you don’t move.”

“Not necessary,” she retorts. “Do what you need to do.”

“It’s going to hurt.”

“I’ll survive. Probably. But if I pass out, you do not have my permission to take me to a hospital or anywhere outside of this cabin, capisce?”

“Capisce,” I reply with a smile. “Though, I guess you wouldn’t really know, would you?”

She glares at me. “You’ll regret it if you do.” She takes a deep breath and faces forward. “Do it.”

After reaching into my field pack, which has an excellent arrangement of first aid supplies, thanks to my little sister, Doctor Lani, I retrieve a pair of gloves and a pair of pointed tweezers.

Dylan moves closer, likely to steady Alice in case she starts having issues once I’ve started trying to remove the glass. Depending on how deeply it’s embedded, it could be just as painful as removing a bullet.

“Okay. Ready?”

“Ready.” Alice shuts her eyes tightly and holds her breath.

“It’s important to keep breathing,” I tell her as I gently grip the backside of her arm. My entire hand wraps around her upper arm, so I’m able to use my thumb and fingers to gently pull the skin apart just enough to get a better look inside.

“I’m. Fine,” she hisses.

I look up at Dylan and give him a slight nod. He moves in behind her. We’ve seen it in the field: The injured person will start holding their breath to try to keep the pain at bay. Then, to compensate, their breathing becomes rapid and shallow, they hyperventilate, and they pass out.

“Here we go.” As carefully as I can, like a real-life game of Operation, I guide the tweezers into her injury.

She hisses again.

The glass is deep enough that I have to move past some tissue before closing the tweezers around it. “I’ve got it, okay? Going to pull it out now.”

Alice doesn’t respond, just offers a single nod. She’s breathing again, taking deep, steady breaths.

Keeping the balance of moving quickly but also doing what I can to avoid damaging the tissue any further, I pull the glass free. The shard is far larger than I thought it would be, nearly a quarter inch long, and shaped like a dagger.

Alice sways in her seat, and Dylan reaches out to steady her with gentle hands on her shoulders.

“I’m good. Sorry.” She takes a deep breath. My twin releases her. I glance up at him, noting the darkness in his gaze. Physical touch—aside from occasional hugs from our parents and siblings—always brings that darkness back.

It costs him greatly every time he has to step outside of his carefully crafted bubble.

After grabbing a fresh piece of gauze, I press it to her injury. “Hold this with your good hand.”

She does, and for a brief moment, her fingers brush mine. A shiver runs through me, desire that hits me so fast I’m sure I imagined it.

“That’s huge.” She studies the glass, pale gaze widening.

Get it together, Tucker. “Yeah. Thick too.” I set it on a piece of napkin. “It’s long enough you likely scraped your bone too. You really need to be on antibiotics.” I reach into my pocket and withdraw my cell.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling my sister. She’s a doctor. I’m going to have her call something in for you.”

“Oh. Okay. Cool.”

I tap Lani’s contact then put it on speaker because I imagine it’ll put Alice at ease, knowing she can hear everything that’s being said.

“Brother mine, what can I do for you?” Lani greets after the second ring.

“I need some antibiotics called into a local pharmacy. You can put it under Dylan’s name.”

“Excuse me? Why do you need antibiotics?”

“Infected wound in an upper arm.”

She groans. “Please tell me neither of you got shot. You guys are magnets for bullets, and this is getting ridiculous. I mean, you’ve only been gone, what, twenty-four hours?”

“Hey, never been shot here, remember?” I joke.

“And it’s not for us. There was a piece of glass stuck in Alice Sterling’s arm.

About a quarter of an inch long and wedged close to the bone.

I’m worried the infection will be deep. I don’t want the prescription under her name just in case she’s being monitored. Same with mine.”

Lani is quiet for a moment. “Alice Sterling? You found her?”

“We did. And you’re on speakerphone.”

“Text me the location, and I’ll make the call.

Since I’m on speakerphone, I will also add this.

Alice, I don’t know whether or not you killed anyone, but if you hurt either of my brothers, I will personally hunt you down and make it look like an accident.

Got it? Cool. Love you guys, bye!” She hangs up without waiting for a response from Alice or us.

Dylan chuckles.

“I like her,” Alice replies with a grin. “Seriously, she sounds great.”

“She is great.” I text Lani our location then ask her to choose a pharmacy in the area.

“Okay.” Setting my phone aside, I reach into my pack and withdraw a bottle of sterile saline. “Can you grab a towel from the bathroom?” I ask Dylan.

He nods and heads down the hall, Delta on his heels.

“Not a big talker, is he?”

“No.”

“Kind of strange you guys are twins, given how different you seem to be.”

And because any answer I give will open a can of worms we’ve sealed shut, I don’t reply at all.

Dylan comes into the room with a towel. He offers it to me, so I gently lift her injured arm and slide the towel beneath it.

“You can remove the gauze.” She pulls it aside, and I rinse the injury with saline.

She hisses and shuts her eyes tightly.

“Sorry,” I mutter as I set the saline aside and pull out a bottle of Betadine. “This is going to hurt.”

“Because every moment leading up to this has been vacation,” she quips.

“Fair enough.” I gently dab the injury with the Betadine, carefully avoiding getting it directly into the wound. Then, I apply a patch of sterile gauze and lightly wrap a self-adhesive bandage around her arm. “Done.”

She gently raises and lowers her arm. “It still hurts, but it feels better. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” I head into the kitchen and dispose of the dirty gauze, bandages, and the piece of glass. Then, after washing my hands, I head back into the living room. “Now that your arm is probably not going to fall off, how about you continue?”

“Probably?”

“I’m no doctor,” I add with a shrug.

“Solid point, Mr. Hunt.” Alice takes a deep breath. “So as I said, Ramiro was distracted. He told me that someone was trying to steal information and we needed to patch it up.”

“Why was that shocking?” Dylan questions. “It’s your job, isn’t it?”

“Which is what I thought. But with how weird he was acting, I knew something else was up. He insisted I write something we could install directly into the system via the server room. He said it was the only way to protect what they were trying to steal.”

“Any idea who they were?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Though I now suspect it’s someone inside of Web Safe.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because it was a member of the security team who shot Ramiro. It’s not unusual for us to access the server room, yet he didn’t even bother asking why we were in there before he started shooting.”

I open my mouth to ask her for a name, but my phone buzzes, cutting me off.

Reaching into my pocket, I withdraw it. Dylan does the same with his, letting me know it’s a group text. Which means things just escalated.

I open the message.

Bradyn: Check your email. Now.