“Yes. Standard GPS chip.”
“And it’s under your skin?”
“Below my left scapula.”
“Can you cut it out?” Jay asked, smoothing his palm down the length of her spine, the motion meant to soothe his nerves as much as hers.
“Probably,” Jamie replied. “But I’ll need to see it first.” He stepped back, and after pulling his mask down under his chin, he shucked his backpack, laying it on the table. “Do you have something on underneath your sweatshirt?”
She lifted her head, sucked her lip between her teeth, and nodded.
“Good. Can you take it off so I can see what we’re dealing with?”
“Uh…” She hesitated, her gaze sweeping to where Roman stood and then back again.
Jay stepped to the right to block the asshole’s line of sight. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Bec. Doc can work around it.”
“No. It’s okay.” She turned her back to him and pulling on the cuffs of her sleeves one at a time, she freed her arms and shoved the baggy fleece-lined hoodie up over her head.
Her shiny black hair fanned out over her shoulders, and the sight of the familiar tattoos covering her arms damn near brought him to his knees as the taste of bile rose to the back of his throat.
A trauma response.
One that had nothing to do with his girl, and everything to do with her sister.
Yeah, he’d known they were there. Had mentally prepared himself to see the lifeless garden covering her upper body. Still, his heart hammered against its cage, his pulse skyrocketing as he fought to keep his composure.
“You okay, Jay?”
“Yep.” He nodded, signaling to Jamie he was fine.
He wasn’t fine. But they needed to get the fuck out of here. He’d deal with his own demons when he had Becca back at the lodge in Montana. Chip-free, safe and sound, and surrounded by his family.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Chin tucked to her chest and hands pressed to the boardroom table, Becca kept her gaze locked on the fake wood grain swimming in and out of focus in front of her. She didn’t need to lift her head or look over her shoulder to know Jay had reacted poorly to the sight of her inked skin.
Identical to Maya’s in all ways but one, she couldn’t blame him.
“I’m going to feel along your shoulder now,” the medic said, right before his hand landed at the top of her blade, and she flinched. After seven years alone, she wasn’t used to being touched so much. Not by anyone. Not with kindness, care, and consideration.
Nik being the sole exception, and even then only in rare circumstances.
A tight knot formed in the center of her chest at the thought of him. Was he alive? In hiding? God, she hoped so. She wanted him locked in a room somewhere safe and out of harm’s way.
At least until Jay’s team left the island—with her in tow—because these guys?
Not messing around. Not with Volkov’s super soldiers. Bodies had littered the hallways. Two more going down in rapid succession as their group made their way here. For what? For her?
No. She shook her head. For the key to Dominion.
“You alright?” Doc asked as he smoothed the pads of his fingers along the bony curve of her scapula, his pressure light over the fabric of her black camisole.
“Yes, I’m fine. It’s just a little lower.”
“Yep, there it is,” he agreed, finding the small lump on her back and feeling around it. “Odd placement for a GPS tracker.”
She shrugged. “After I dug out the first two, Volkov had one of his men put this one in a location I couldn’t reach.”
