Aine’s face hurt from the fake smile she had plastered on it.
“I love this little house,” said Tara, rummaging around in the kitchen. “The main house is nice, but this is…cozy.”
Aine turned around and rolled her eyes. She loved Tara, but cozy had never been her style. She thought the woman was going to have a panic attack when Pen volunteered the two of them to share the bedroom with twin beds.
“It’s only fair. We’re crashing the party, so to speak.”
They’d all agreed that Alegria should take the master bedroom when she arrived since she was still recovering from surgery.
“The woman was shot,” Pen said to Tara when she protested. “When you get shot, you can take the big bedroom.”
The memory the three shared of being kidnapped and held hostage, sat far too close to the surface, although they never spoke of it. Aine wondered if Alegria had been part of the team that rescued them. Probably, which meant they should thank her, but she doubted any of them would bring it up—especially not Alegria herself.
“What time is dinner?” Tara asked.
Aine checked her phone. “Twenty minutes.”
“Should we walk over?”
“Sure,” she murmured, stealing a quick glance of the only photo she had of Griffin and then wishing she hadn’t. It only made the pain in her chest hurt worse.
“What is all that?” Pen asked, pointing to the pile of packages from their afternoon shopping spree.
“Most of it belongs to Zary. We took her shopping today so she could get Christmas gifts. She’s never done it before.”
“Given Christmas gifts or gone shopping?” asked Tara with a smirk.
“Celebrated Christmas.”
Aine told them Zary’s story, leaving out the part about her being the one who’d tracked her, Tara, and Pen to Washington where they were being held hostage by Armenians who wanted to lure her father out of hiding. She also left out the part about Zary being her and Ava’s half-sister—until Tara opened her big mouth again.
“She seems weird.”
“Tara,” admonished Pen.
“What? She’s—”
“She’s my sister, and she isn’t the slightest bit weird. She’s led a life none of us can imagine the horrors of, let alone ever be as badass as she is.”
“Wait. What?” said Pen. “She’s your sister?”
“That’s right, and the night we were rescued, she was kidnapped in our place.” That wasn’t exactly accurate, but it was close enough for her to make her point.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to touch on a nerve.”
In that moment, Aine hated Tara. She wasn’t apologizing for what she said about Zary; she was being sarcastic—one of her friend’s worst habits.
Every condescending thing that had ever come out of her mouth roared to the surface of her memory. “You’re such a bitch,” she said, storming out of the guest house’s front door. It wasn’t like her; Ava was usually the one to call people out on their shit. In the world of good twin, bad twin, it was Aine who soothed hurt feelings and helped mend fences.
It was cold outside, and in her haste, she hadn’t grabbed a jacket. Aine picked up her pace and was almost to the main house’s back door when she heard voices.
“No leads at all?” she heard Gunner ask.
“None. Which is why the team is going in.” That was Razor’s voice.
“I know I act like I can’t stand Striker, and sometimes he annoys the shit outta me, but he’s one of us and I respect him. Those Somali bastards can be worse than ISIS.”
“I agree. I respect him too. As far as the Somalis are concerned, they operate without a plan. They kidnap without realizing who they’ve got and then issue ludicrous ransom demands. Remember a few years ago when a group of them kidnapped that journalist along with an Asian fisherman? They demanded twenty mil each. The fisherman’s family couldn’t have had more than twenty bucks.”