Hyper Lynx (The Lynx Series Book 6) by Fiona Quinn (ebook reader for pc and android TXT) 📗

you driving until Dr. Carlon checks your head,” Striker said. “It would be terrible if you passed out and hurt not only you but innocent people who are driving with you.”

Wow! When he said that, it was like a bolt of lightning between my eyes.

There was a long-ago memory that was clawing its way up my nervous system, trying to find the light of day.

“What was that look about?” Striker pulled his safety belt in place.

I waggled my hand over my shoulder. I was indicating that the “essence of parents” I felt hovering over there had spiked.

Yes! Yes! Pay attention was the impression I was picking up.

I wished I had the right vocabulary for this sensation, experience…

Pay attention to what?

I didn’t offer Striker anything else by way of explanation. “It’s fine. I agree. No driving until my head is deemed safe.”

He nodded. “Once we’re done at the CIA, we can grab something quick to eat at a drive-through, a late lunch. Then I’ll drop you at FBI headquarters. From there I’d like you to take a car service to Dr. Carlon’s office. I’ll meet you there at four-thirty.

I pressed my lips together.

“Is that sour look for me?” he asked.

“No, I’m mad as hell at the CIA for not facilitating my divorce from Angel. I’ve been seething about it all day. You’d think that they’d do this for the child of a former CIA officer if not for the justice and correctness of it. Maybe some atonement of the pain they inflicted on me and Angel’s family.”

“They’re stopping you from moving forward with your life.” He glanced back to make sure the street was clear, then pulled out and started us down the road.

“Yep. And you, too.”

“I don’t care about a wedding, to be honest, Chica. Those vows are in my heart. Heck, I’ll tattoo them across my chest if you’d like.”

“Seems extreme.” I brushed at my skirts.

“I imagine that seeing our friends marrying this year—Deep and Grace, Gage and Zoe’s wedding in June—and now standing up with Christen and Gator makes this more upsetting. As for me, I don’t need to make my vows in front of anyone but you. They’re already my bond. And I don’t need a piece of paper saying we belong to each other. We belong. If you wanted, we could just create a contract and sign it. We could even go through the mechanics of the wedding if our friends and family want that. It could just be a ceremony without the legal ramifications of you being married to two husbands.”

“I don’t lie. That would be a whopper if everyone thought we were legally married, and we weren’t.”

He turned the car right and let his eye graze over my face before focusing out the front window again. “The only place that it might make the slightest of differences is when we have kids. And we decided to wait five years and then see if it’s good timing for us. Most importantly, of course, is your mental wellbeing. I’m worried that these circumstances make you feel caged in.”

“Exactly. A prisoner of circumstances.”

“Understood. And I agree. It’s not fair that the CIA hasn’t followed through. The problem is, even with all of our contacts and Iniquus’s network, we can’t leverage those connections because we can’t tell anyone this is happening.”

I adjusted the seatbelt strap over my chest. “Do you think it has anything to do with retribution?”

“How do you mean?”

“Spyder and I were working to take down the Hydra. Lots of Assemblymen wound up in prison. High-level Assemblymen who might still wield power from behind bars. Or have friends who want to pile on because they’re mad.”

“They shouldn’t be able to connect your name or even Iniquus to that data dump to the press that started the ball rolling. If retribution were at play, I’m not sure how we’d be able to tell or what we could do about it.” He reached over and took my hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed my swollen knuckles.

“The biggest problem today is this chip I’ve got on my shoulder. I need to leave it behind when we walk into Langley. I’m not going in as Mrs. Sobado, the wife of a black ops officer. I’m going in as a representative of Iniquus. I need to keep those roles clear.”

“You’re going to do fine. Hey, after we leave Dr. Carlon’s, why don’t we get a bouquet and go visit your mom. Sunflowers were her favorite, right?”

“Yeah.” My face crumpled.

He remembered my mom’s favorite flowers. Striker was an amazing guy. My guy. My heart and soul. Not being married to him felt like things were just dangling, unfinished. The constraints made by the CIA’s inaction were like a paper-thin popcorn hull that wedged into my gum line, and I couldn’t pry it out. So there it was, rubbing and irritating me. Constantly.

Striker drove quietly while the emotions flooded through my body then receded. “I’d like that. Thank you for remembering.” I finally managed, referring to his suggestion about taking flowers out to the cemetery.

“Of course.”

I rubbed my eye. “I still don’t know why you can’t go to the CIA on your own.”

“Like I was telling you this morning before your coffee kicked in, my take is that your reputation proceeds you. I’m guessing here, but I’d bet that the CIA officers’ expectation is that when you come in and look over their materials, you’ll pronounce some grossly obvious answer. I’m sure they’d rather that beat down be confined to their top three officers.”

“Let’s say that’s exactly how things go. How would your being there help them?”

“I’ll probably be just as stunned by what you come up with as they are, so I’ll be sitting there with my mouth hanging open in awe along with them.