Judging by how clearly I can hear Beau, they heard every cry and moan.
Splashing water on my face, I groan, scarcely believing just how wild things got as I pull on the clothes I bought at the general store, scrape my hair into a ponytail and head out, bracing myself.
The room next door is unlocked. When I step through, one of the men I saw Beau speaking to yesterday is sitting on the edge of the bed lacing his boots. He looks up and grins. The other is at his laptop while Beau is leaning against the wall with a coffee in one hand, looking infuriatingly well-rested for a man who didn't sleep much.
"Tripp,” one says by way of introducing himself. “Welcome to the team,Red," Tripp says, a broad grin pushing up the corners of his dark moustache.
I falter midway across the room, and heat floods my face.
Please tell me Beau called me that, and he didn’t hear it through these flimsy walls.
Beau crosses the room before I can respond, cups my face with one hand and kisses me, a proper kiss, right here in front of his colleagues, like he's making a statement. When he pulls back, his thumb traces my jawline, and his eyes hold mine for a second longer than necessary.
"That’s Van.” He points to the other man, who merely nods a hello, very deliberately not looking at either of us, before he goes back to typing rapidly. “Coffee's on the dresser.”
I’m not sure I’ll be able to stomach it, but I move to the side and pour myself a large mug.
Van clears his throat. "So. The plan."
Beau walks me through it while I drink what’s practically tar at this point. The screens are set up on Van's desk, feeds from cameras Tripp planted during his scouting run. Multiple angles of a warehouse on the outskirts of town, a parking area, two entrances. The fight ring itself isn't visible yet but will be once the doors open and the crowds start filing in.
I have to hand it to these guys, the set-up, what they’ve done in such a short space of time, it’s impressive.
"Tripp and Van go in," Beau says, pointing at the screen. "They're unknown faces, unlike me, and they’ll blend in. They’llkeep eyes on the crowd and look for Dimitri. I stay here on comms and extraction, ready to go in if we get any inkling Amber is there, or to follow him when he leaves."
I study the layout, the entrances, the sightlines. Then I look at Van, who’s struggling to get to his feet, shifting his weight off a bad leg as he leans over to grab a donut.
“Or, I could go.”
Beau’s mug stops halfway to his mouth, which sets in a hard line, eyes narrowing. Immediately, he’s shaking his head. “No.”
“Surely it makes more sense for this genius to stay here on the screens. What if Dimitri gets by you, and we need to track him through traffic?”
“He won’t.” Beau pushes to his feet.
Van's jaw tightens, but he doesn't bullshit us. "We all know I’m not as fast as I might need to be. The leg's been a bastard this week." He turns to Beau and shrugs, unoffended by the reality of his limitations. “Your lady’s got a point. She can go in on Tripp’s arm. I can follow him on traffic cams…”
Tripp’s nodding along, clearly having no objections to this change of plan.
“He’s not going to get past us…” Beau insists, a vein starting to bulge at his temple.
"You can be ready to come in if we find something." I keep my voice casual, like I'm thinking out loud rather than pitching. "You'll only be minutes away.”
“Minutes might be too long.” The silence that follows is instant and absolute.
“Beau…” I reach for him, tension radiating from him enough to make the room feel suffocating.
"No." Beau's voice is flat as he steadfastly ignores my fingers curling into the sleeve of his dark shirt. He looks down at me again, giving me an imploring look, pleading with me to do as I’m told. "I said no. You stay in this room."
Van and Tripp exchange a look. Beau’s decision making has shifted from tactical to personal, and everyone can feel it. He’s not being objective or rational, letting his emotions dictate the plan.
"Can you give us five minutes?" I smile at Van and Tripp with a brightness I don't feel before turning to Beau. "Come on, let’s leave them to get ready to go."
Beau frowns. “Why?”
Rolling my eyes, I tug on his arm. “Humour me.” I make a face that suggests I have something I need to tell him in private. He’s not happy, but he comes along, looking to Tripp and Van for permission.
“Take your time.” Tripp stands, waving us away. “I’ll finish loading up.”