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with the judge advocate. General Gray and his wife still invite me to their Christmas parties. They like me. Maybe he’ll listen.”
    “Yeah, and maybe the Easter Bunny will deliver a gold egg.”
    Aspen glared at her friend. “I don’t need your negativity—”
    “It’s not neg—”
    “I know. It’s the facts.
Negative
facts, I’d point out.”
    Britt let her shoulders sag in an exaggerated way. “What about Austin’s fire buddy? He said he doesn’t remember this guy.”
    Aspen rolled her eyes. “Will was a player whose loyalties were with himself.” She sighed. “As much as I don’t want to put my last hope in this Mar-whatever guy, I will take him over Will any day.” When she’d hit S END on that letter, a thread of hope stitched up her broken, angry heart. She plunged her hand into the bag and drew out her wrist wraps.
    Warm hands cupped her shoulders, drawing Aspen’s gaze from the yellow wraps she secured around her palm and wrist. Compassion oozed from the milk chocolate eyes.
    “No.” Aspen stepped back. “Don’t do that.” She snatched the gloves from the bench and strode into the gym, acutely aware how much her best friend wanted to apply the brakes to this before they got started. But Aspen couldn’t—
wouldn
’t—let Austin’s name end up on some memorial wall. He wasn’t dead. She could feel it.
    Or…could she?
    It’d only been in the wee hours of the morning as she wept over his disappearance that she wondered if their twin connection was still alive. Was he still alive?
    Batting the gloves into a better fit, she crossed the open floor, passed the free weights, the ellipticals, and treadmills. At the speed bag, she warmed up. When a slow burn radiated through her muscles, she started for the ring.
    Mario straightened as she passed, stilling the kickboxing bag he’d just struck. He grinned. “Hey, beautiful. Ready for more?”
    Slipping in her mouth guard, she arched an eyebrow at him.
    He whooped.
    As she reached for the ropes to step in, Amadore, ghostlike man that he was, appeared out of nowhere. “You with us today, Angel?”
    With more conviction than she felt, she nodded.
    He pointed to Mario. “You hurt her, you answer to me.”
    Smiling, she nudged his shoulder then bent through the ropes. She strode toward the center and met her opponent. All six feet of the man towered over her five-foot-five frame. Muscles rippled beneath his dark skin as those eyes—Timbrel called them lady-killers—sparkled back at her. In the center, she bumped gloves with Mario, their official start signal.
    He threw the first punch, launching them into a rigorous workout. Though they were well matched, he always seemed determined to bring her down. She enjoyed the challenge. Much like this new venture of hers—finding her brother. Bringing him back. Darci insisted Aspen had gone one too many rounds in the ring and incurred T BI traumatic brain injury, to attempt this. But like Aspen, Darci’s mind and heart raced at the thought of doing something everyone else said they couldn’t.
    Would the guy come? Though she wasn’t a former intelligence operative like Darci or a borderline Mensa like Khaterah, Aspen had been gifted with an insatiable thirst for truth and justice. But without this guy, without Dane Whatshisname—who named their kid after a dog, anyway?—she could hang up this plan. He had been there. He knew her brother. Knew the location. The terrain. And he still had connections with the military. Desperately needed connections to get them in and out of Afghanistan. Besides, going in with a team of men alone…well, even Aspen wasn’t that stupid.
    Black slammed into her face with a resounding thud.
    Aspen spun away, stumbling.
    Mario cursed.
    “Hey,” Amadore’s shout sailed through the cavernous, split-level gym. “What’d you do?”
    “Nothin’,” Mario said.
    Aspen sniffled, smelling and tasting the metallic glint of blood. She wiped the warmth from her upper lip and