I thought back to how Damian Rivera had mocked Tucker by bringing up my mother. My memory seemed to confirm that the two of them had had some sort of relationship. I wondered exactly what had happened between them, what had gone so wrong that it had ended with my mother’s murder.

   But that was a question for another day. There was no more time to rest, so I threw off the blanket, swung my feet over the side of the couch, and got up, ready to start the day and face whatever new danger, despair, and heartbreak it might bring.

15

   Jade was still asleep, so I went into the kitchen and raided her refrigerator and cabinets, determined to make her a hearty breakfast. Even though she didn’t feel like it, she needed to eat to keep her strength up, and so did I.

   But the kitchen was depressingly empty, except for all the containers of take-out food in the fridge, including several from the Pork Pit. I opened one and sniffed the contents. My nose wrinkled at the sour stench. Even I couldn’t do anything with two-week-old baked beans, so I tossed them into the garbage, along with some old Thai food, a couple of half-eaten burritos, and a lasagna that was pea-green with mold.

   Luckily, Jade had some fresh eggs, milk, and cheddar cheese in her fridge, and I found a couple of potatoes tucked away in a cabinet, along with some dill weed and other spices. So I whipped up some cheesy scrambled eggs with a side of fried, seasoned breakfast potatoes.

   I was dishing up a plate of food for myself when Jade stumbled into the kitchen. She looked slightly less exhausted than she had last night, and her eyes weren’t quite as red this morning. She hadn’t been crying today. Yet.

   “Just in time,” I said, keeping my voice light. “Sit down, and eat up.”

   Jade staggered over to the table, plopped down, and stared with bleary eyes at the plate that I slid in front of her. “How can you even function without coffee?” she mumbled.

   I thought of my memory of Hugh Tucker and Mab Monroe watching my childhood home burn to the ground. “Trust me,” I muttered. “I don’t need a jolt of java to start my day.”

   I poured Jade a cup of the coffee that I’d brewed and set it in front of her. She leaned over and breathed in the rich fumes, waking up a bit more, before grabbing the cup and taking a sip of the hot, dark liquid.

   She gagged, almost spitting it right back out again. “What—what is this? Because it is most certainly not coffee.”

   “Sure it is. Chicory coffee. I had a bag of it stashed in the emergency supplies in my trunk. You were out of your regular brew, so I had to use it instead.”

   She frowned. “You keep coffee in your car?”

   “Sure. Coffee, granola bars, bottled water, knives, healing ointment. The usual.”

   “But why coffee?” she asked. “What kind of assassin emergency requires chicory coffee?”

   “Finnegan Lane.”

   Jade gave me a puzzled look.

   “You do not want to talk to Finn in the morning before he’s had his coffee. It’s like trying to communicate with a bear that’s just woken up from hibernating. Glares, grumbling, and gnashing teeth. It’s not pretty, not pretty at all.”

   I sat down with my own plate and nudged hers a little closer to her elbow. “Now, eat up.”

   Jade stared at the food. After a moment, she shook her head. “Sorry, but I just don’t feel like eating. Not when I know that Elissa is out there somewhere, that she probably hasn’t had a meal in hours . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she blinked back the tears in her eyes. “So what’s our next move?”

   “Our next move?”

   “Our next move,” she repeated. “I’m with you on this, Gin. Every single step of the way.”

   I shoveled some food into my mouth, giving myself time to think. Despite the few ingredients that I’d had to work with, the scrambled eggs were light and fluffy, with a sharp, gooey tang from the cheese, while the potatoes had the perfect amount of spices and crispy brown edges. Normally, I would have thoroughly enjoyed the food, but thinking about Elissa and what she might be going through made everything taste like burned toast—dry, brittle, and utterly unappealing. Still, I forced myself to take bite after bite. No doubt today would be another long day, and I would need all the energy I could get to keep going.

   Jade stared at me, wanting an answer, so I sighed and put down my fork.

   “I know you want to be there for Elissa. I know you want to find her more than anything else. I know that you would give anything for that to happen.”

   “But?”

   I let out a breath and made my voice as gentle as I could. “But we might not find Elissa. We might not find her alive. We might not find her at all—ever.”

   Jade flinched, as though I’d slapped her. She dropped her head, leaned back in her seat, and crossed her arms over her chest, as if she were trying to shield herself from the ugly truth of my words. After several long, tense seconds, she raised her head and looked at me again, tears shimmering in her eyes.

   “I know that.” Her voice was as soft and serious as mine had been. “I don’t like it, but I know it. I know that she could already be . . . dead.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she had to clear her throat before she could continue. “But she’s my sister, and if I don’t do everything that I can to find her, then I will never be able to live with myself. Surely you can understand that, Gin.”

   “I do understand that.” I gave her a hard, serious look. “But if you want to be involved, then you have to play by my rules, and you have to do what I say, when I say it. I might have to do some nasty things to find Elissa. Things that would turn anyone’s stomach. If you don’t want to be involved in those things, I understand.”

   Jade’s mouth tightened, and her chin lifted. “I don’t care who you have to hurt or what you have to do to them. I’ll stand right by your side and hand you the damn knives myself if it means getting my sister back.”