Blake answers the door, and I blink. His long dark hair is not long anymore. “Who are you and what did you do to Blake?”
He laughs a low deep rumble. “Kara says it gets in the way, so I cut it.”
“I’m not going to ask for details,” I say. “But I think it looks good. Can I visit with Kara?”
“Kitchen,” he says, backing up as I enter their gorgeous, recently remodeled, apartment. The floors are a shiny dark wood. The ceiling is covered in closely linked wood beams, while thicker wood beams support the structure. The kitchen island is made of the same wood as the floors, with a contrasting black flecked countertop. I find Kara behind that island, her dark hair piled on top of her head, and flour all over her face.
“Did you come to save me?” she asks.
I step to the opposite side of the counter as her and study the explosion of powdery substances all over the counter, and a bowl that seems to hold thick dough. “I didn’t know you baked?”
“I don’t, but Lauren has a big trial and she needs cookies for her kiddo’s St. Patrick’s Day party and it’s not even St. Patrick’s Day. I told her I’d help.”
“Just order them from a bakery.”
“It’s for tomorrow.”
“The grocery store bakery?”
“I looked,” she says. “They’re sold out. Apparently, everyone thought of this but me. What was I thinking?” she asks herself, trying to stir the sticky dough. “I’m the one you ask to do a self-defense class, not bake cookies.”
I laugh. She’s right, she is. She’s beautiful and sweet, but oh so tough and just as dangerous as any man on the Walker team. She’s a rock star.
“Slice and bake is an option,” I say, eyeing her work in progress. “Because what you have in that bowl is not edible.”
She stops fussing with the dough and eyes me. “Slice and bake. You’re brilliant.” She calls out, “Blake!”
He appears almost instantly and she gives him a pleading look. “Can you go grab slice and bake cookies?”
“If it will end this baking nightmare, hell yes.”
“And icing,” I say, glancing at Kara. “Unless you have icing?”
“I have a recipe,” she offers.
“The cookie icing is best,” I say, “but cake icing will work if needed.”
Like the devoted husband he is, Blake rushes for the door.
Kara sets the bowl in the sink. “I didn’t know you baked.”
“I fake bake. My mother was an officer in the Army. Baking wasn’t her priority.” I quickly change the subject. “Kara, I need to know about Max and Kelly.”
She grabs a napkin and wipes her hands. “I don’t know them at all. I mean, Kelly stayed with me a few days when Max was missing, but she took off to find Max. Why? Are you inviting them to the wedding?”
“No,” I say, and pause because that’s a reality here I hadn’t thought of before now. Max and Kelly weren’t invited to the wedding. If Savage called Max a true friend, they would be. “No, but Savage just took off to do a favor for Max.”
She frowns. “What kind of favor?”
“He said a pick-up and drop-off. Something to do with someone hunting Max and Max can’t do it.”
She tosses the napkin down. “Right before the wedding? And I didn’t know they were that great of friends. That is something we do for our inner circle.”
“They aren’t,” I say. “But Savage says Max saved his life. I called Adam. He was going to ‘handle it,’ he said. I don’t know what that means.”
“It means the dumbass loyal beast of a man of yours isn’t alone. Adam wouldn’t let him go alone. Let’s drink wine and wait on Blake. He’ll get to the bottom of this.”
I sigh and give a tiny nod, but while she heads to the bar for the wine, I reach for my phone and walk to the floor-to-ceiling windows in their living room, where I dial Savage. He doesn’t answer. I dial Adam next. He too doesn’t answer.
Kara appears and hands me a glass. “Anything?”
“No,” I say. “I assume they’re both on a plane.”
“I texted with Blake. He says Savage, like the rest of the guys, pay for personal use of the planes. He booked a flight into Tennessee and then to Colorado and then back here. Blake assumed he was taking you somewhere.”
The doorbell rings. “I’ll be right back,” Kara says, hurrying to greet her visitor.
I stare out the window, without seeing the Hudson river below, trying to be comforted by the fact that Savage’s route matches what he told me. But why wouldn’t it? He doesn’t lie to me. Savage told me the truth, and nothing but the truth. In other words, he doesn’t really know what he’s getting himself into. Of that I’m certain.
I consider calling my father, who’d been the entire reason Savage had gotten involved with Tag. Savage wanted to please him, but no, I’m not risking my father making a call, or poking the wrong bear, that turns attention onto Savage. My father got in too deep with Tag as well, and saw friends where there were enemies. These war games get dangerous and dirty quickly.