Page 27 of Fully Loaded

Sonofabitch.

He unbuckled his seatbelt, crouched next to Dani, and cupped his hand over her wrist to shake her. Soft snores breezed through her lips and he stopped. He gripped Sven’s phone more tightly and stood. This was important, but it could wait. He wouldn’t wake her.

“Brock?”

Regret clawed at his insides. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

She rubbed her eyes with her palms and then groaned. “Ugh. I forgot I’m wearing makeup.” She sat forward and wiped her fingertips beneath her lids, where her mascara had smeared. “What’s up?”

He returned to his position on the floor and glanced at the passengers around them. Two were asleep, the others had their faces buried in books or devices.

“Remember the tattoo we talked about?”

She pursed her lips and lifted her gaze. “Oh, yeah. Sven’s?”

So much for discretion. “Yeah, let’s keep it down though.”

She grimaced. “Sorry, my brain doesn’t work right after I’ve been asleep. You should know that,” she said with a chuckle.

The reference to the soft, silly moments of their past made his heart swell. He’d always teased her for being a sleepy mouse for damn near an hour after waking up.

“What about it?”

He forced the image of the tousled blonde hair and sleepy aqua eyes that he’d once cherished waking up to every morning from his mind and coughed until the thickness in his throat moved.

“I think it’s gang or cult related. Look at this.” He held the device below the window and low enough that nosy passengers wouldn’t see. “Right here.” He pointed to the guy’s arm.

She took the phone, zoomed in on the image, and stared at it for several moments. “I don’t see one on . . . him though.”

“This photo was taken four months ago. So he would have gotten the ink between the time of the photo and the time he called you to come to Geneva.”

She scrunched her face. “I’m not sure that’s anything concrete. I mean, I can see the connection, but we didn’t see all of his tattoo, and this guy’s is half hidden as well. How can we be sure it’s the same?”

“I saw his.” He stretched across the aisle, pulled a pen from his bag, then took the book from her lap. “Mind?”

She shook her head. He found a blank spot on one of the pages and, propping the book on her lap for a somewhat steady surface, began to sketch the tattoo from memory. “The little bit of his tattoo that showed creeped me out enough to peel down his collar and look.” He drew the pentagon first, then the animal head, then added the curls to the tips of the star.

Dani’s breath hissed through her mouth. “What is that?”

“I have no fucking clue,” he said.

She swallowed hard. “We need to find out. I mean, if it’s any kind of organization, it has to be documented somewhere.”

He clicked the pen and scoffed. “Any ideas?”

She tapped her chin. “I think I know who we can call.”

“I don’t think this is such a good idea,” Brock said, his tone whiny. Dani took a huge bite of the salad she’d grabbed at the Zurich train station. They had a forty-minute layover. She couldn’t remember what the next stop was, but they had three before they reached Paris.

“If Milo trusts him, we can too.”

Brock clicked his jaw and she shoved another bite of salad into her mouth. “I’ll call him.”

Looking affronted, he clapped his hand over his phone on the table. “I can do it. Milo texted me his number the other day. You eat.”

He stood and paced to a less crowded area of the food court. Unable to stand the suspense, Dani looped her bag across her chest, tucked her water bottle under her arm, and carried her salad to stand next to him.

“—yeah, that’s right. It’s all over the news.” A beat passed. “No. As of right now I haven’t been tied to anything.” He relayed more details, and Dani watched as he curled his lip or rubbed his thumb and forefinger together with every answer.