Lennon appeared alarmed suddenly. “So…?”

“So, I think you’re stuck here, Fancy-pants,” Maisie said. Lennon turned quickly to Lopez.

“No,” Lopez said. “I’m going to put a team together and we’re going to try.”

Maisie’s mouth fell open. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I’m not scared of going into Spencer territory. We’ll be fine.” He said it with so much confidence that Maisie knew immediately he was lying. Maybe he was reluctant to tell the Americans that relations with the north were so bad he couldn’t transport Lennon fifty miles to the gate.

“Maisie, why don’t you go find Declan and get him up to speed?” Lopez asked. “Tell him to start thinking about who he wants to send. We’ll leave tonight or tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Declan was not going to be interested in transporting this dude anywhere, which Lopez must have known. She moved toward the door.

“We have a call scheduled with the FBI,” Lopez said to Lennon as Maisie opened the door. “They want proof you’re alive. And they have a few questions about your kidnapping.”

“Yeah, do you know who did this to you?” Maisie asked, pausing halfway into the hallway.

“I’m sure it was Howard or someone from his campaign,” he said.

“What? Isn’t that dude your president?”

He nodded. “We get a lot of threats. Everyone who runs against a Howard does, and I’m the quarantine zone point person for the campaign. They hate me a lot.” He said it like he was almost proud of it.

“Huh.” Maisie glanced at Lopez, who was focused on his phone. “Sounds like a real shitshow out there.”

“Well, Senator Pierce is ready to change all that. He’s running an honest, straightforward campaign that will—”

“Mr. Pierce, we can’t vote in here,” Lopez said, glancing up from his phone with an amused expression.

“Right. Sorry. Habit.” He smiled sheepishly.

Maisie lifted a hand in goodbye and walked out the door, closing it behind her. If Lennon was smart, he wouldn’t get his hopes up. The chances of a team making it to the northern border—alive—were incredibly slim.

—

Declan took the news about Lennon about as well as she’d expected.

“I am not transporting that little shithead anywhere,” he said, tossing a wrench across the garage with impressive force. Declan loved throwing things across rooms. It was his main hobby.

“I figured you’d say that.” She leaned against the side of the truck while one of the guys fished the wrench out of the corner and delivered it back to the toolbox.

Declan pushed his hands into his hair. He had great, thick hair. She used to run her fingers through it all the time.

The urge was very much gone now. In fact, if she got her hands on that hair, she might rip out a few strands.

“He didn’t say why he wants to get Pierce out of here?” he asked.

“Not really. He just said he wasn’t scared to go across Spencer territory.”