and pushed through several hangers. “This is Shannon’s stash.”
Sasha looked down at what she was wearing, then back to the closet. The blue jeans were stylish enough. “You sure?”
“Of course. You change. I’ll grab a laundry basket.”
After sliding into jeans and an olive green short-waisted sweater, Sasha checked her appearance in a mirror. Not her normal outfit, but it worked. She turned to look at her back and grinned. Even her skinny butt looked good in denim.
In the laundry room, Trina stuck around and helped.
And by helping, Sasha meant did the work. “Wade and I hope you’ll consider coming over for Christmas. We’re going to California for Thanksgiving, since Lori will have the youngest babies. I know Reed and Lori would love to see you.”
“Reed mentioned it.”
“So you’ll come?”
“We need to clear up all this before I can even speculate where I’ll be.”
Trina’s face told Sasha that she knew the chances of her showing up were slim . . . even if everything going on in her life at that moment was in the past. As a polite woman, however, she didn’t say a thing.
With the washer doing the work, they walked back downstairs, where Sasha planned on making a quick exit to find Neil. Talking about babies, cooking, and laundry was not in her skill set, and all the domestic stuff was weighing on her.
They found Claire sitting on the floor, her legs stretched out in front of her, and Lilliana curled up on her shoulder, fast asleep.
Both Sasha and Trina stopped in the doorway to stare.
Claire held the baby while quiet tears slid down her cheeks.
“What’s wrong?” Trina asked softly.
Claire bit her lips and tried to talk. “I-I don’t know how any mom can walk away.”
While Sasha stared, Trina moved in and knelt down to her level. “Oh, honey.”
Sasha realized then that Claire had been abandoned, not orphaned. The results were the same, but the trauma was completely different.
Claire started to cry with shuddered breaths.
A knot in Sasha’s throat caught.
“Here, let me take her.” Trina reached for her daughter.
Once Lilliana was on her mother’s shoulder, Trina offered to help Claire up with a free hand.
Once on her feet, Claire walked straight to Sasha and placed her tear-streaked face on her chest. Claire’s arms wrapped around her with a sob.
For a minute, Sasha just stood there, unsure what to do. No one had ever thrown themselves in her arms and cried before. One look at Trina and Sasha closed Claire into an embrace. One that sparked more tears.
It took a lot of effort to hold back emotion.
Sasha couldn’t remember the last time she’d let that emotion happen, but it sure wanted to now. “Some people suck,” she told Claire.
“Yeah.”
The door leading from the kitchen to the outside opened and AJ walked in beside Wade.
Both men stopped when they saw the crying teenager.
AJ stepped forward. “What happened?”
Claire sucked in a breath and pulled away to collect herself. She looked up at Sasha with a brave face.
“Just a little female bonding,” Trina announced.
Claire smiled through her pain.
“C’mon, Claire, help me put Lilly down for her nap.”
Claire jumped at the opportunity to leave and Sasha was faced with the men alone.
“Is she okay?” AJ asked.
“She’s fine.” Sasha turned and wiped away a single tear that had managed to escape the jail she’d put it in.
Chapter Nineteen
AJ had never been in a war room before, but he was fairly certain the space Neil and his band of merry men congregated in resembled one. The night before, he’d met Cooper and Isaac, two of Neil’s security guards. Jeb was Wade’s personal bodyguard, who lived onsite and had joined them that morning. Two more men AJ hadn’t been introduced to were brought in to relieve the man at the front entrance, as well as one on the far end of the property where deliveries were made for the working ranch portion of the estate. From AJ’s count, there were eight armed guards onsite, not to mention the ranch hands, who had been told that there was a viable threat and they needed to report to Jeb or Neil if they saw or suspected anything.
They had taken over the guesthouse, moving living room furniture aside to make room for fold-up tables and laptop computers. The kitchen table was littered with pictures and information that eventually made it up onto the wall. In the center of the data sat an image of Amelia. Subject zero. Unlike anyone else on the wall who had died, the guys in