One-Knight Stand (White Knights #3) - Julie Moffett Page 0,91

back to the farmhouse. When we arrived, everyone was sleeping except for Mr. Toodles, who greeted me enthusiastically. I took him outside for a quick potty break, hoping he wasn’t getting spoiled with all the attention.

After setting up the monitoring stations on our laptops on the dining room table—Mike’s for Remington’s car, mine for the burner phone, and Wally’s for Sampson’s car, Mike headed off to get more sleep.

I decided I needed some sleep, as well, so Wally volunteered to take the first shift.

“Are you sure?” I asked, leaning back in my chair and yawning. “You didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“You didn’t get any sleep,” he pointed out.

“I know, but my mom and all.”

Wally typed something on the keyboard. “You’re not going to help either one of them if you’re a zombie. Go to bed, Angel.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’m not tired.” He pulled his bloodshot eyes open wider with his fingers. “See?”

“Not funny. I need you at full functioning power, Wally. Not working at half brain. You’re that important.”

“Hey, I’m a fully functioning computer nerd. Trust me on that. I’d never risk the life of your mom, the cool woman who invited me to my first dinner at a girl’s house, aced the hardest trivia questions during our games, and makes the best tuna casserole and chocolate chip cookies in the world. I won’t fall asleep on the job. I’m good for it, so go to bed and leave this in my capable hands.”

Touched, I put my hand atop of his. “Thanks.”

He grinned, then shrugged. “Besides, how would it look in the movie version if I just went to sleep at the most critical moment of the operation?”

I smacked him on the shoulder, laughing. “You’re impossible. You know that, right?” Still, it was the first time I’d smiled in hours.

“Hey, I’m still trying to decide which handsome, buff actor is going to play me in the movie. I’m open for suggestions.”

I was considering some options when Frankie wandered into the dining room, rubbing her eyes, dressed in pajamas and a robe. “What time is it?” she asked me sleepily.

“Time to go back to bed,” I said. “You haven’t slept very long.”

“Are you coming to sleep?”

“Soon.”

But instead of going back to the bedroom, she joined us at the table, pulling out a chair on the other side of me. I was now flanked by Wally on one side and Frankie on the other. The original Scooby gang—the White Knights. How far we’d come in just a few months.

“Okay, what aren’t you guys telling me?” Frankie asked. She always seemed to know when people weren’t being forthcoming, something that would serve her well as a spy. “What happened, Angel? You look worried.”

I sighed, quickly updating her on Remington’s conversation with Sampson.

Frankie narrowed her eyes, frowning. “That man is so vile. Are you going to call Candace Kim at the NSA?”

“I think so. As soon as we have a location for my mom. I don’t see how I have any choice. I have to trust someone in the NSA. We need a freaking cavalry to pull this off. Let’s just hope the cavalry is on our side. I’m taking a really big risk.”

“It’s the right one to take,” Frankie said, and Wally nodded in agreement. “Your dad said he was going to trust her. So, you should, too.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I am.” Frankie put her hand in the middle of the table, and Wally put his on top of hers. “We’re in this together,” she said. “White Knights to the very end.”

After a moment, I added my hand atop Wally’s. “To the very end…wherever that takes us.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

ANGEL SINCLAIR

Both Wally and I ended up catching several hours of sleep after all.

Since there was nothing happening in either Sampson’s or Remington’s cars as the workday passed, or on the burner phone, Jax spelled Wally after about an hour or so.

At a quarter after four in the afternoon, Jax gently shook me awake. “Sampson left the NSA. He’s in his car now.”

I sat up quickly, shaking the last vestiges of sleep from my brain. Grabbing my sweatshirt, I followed him to the dining room. Everyone except Wally and Frankie was awake. Mike was sitting in front of the laptop monitoring Sampson’s car, and everyone was clustered around him. We would get periodic position updates from the tracking device, watching as his position changed with each update as he navigated through town. It was clear that, so far, it seemed he was headed back to