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The message was clear: When Jack returned, he’d be armed.
“Put it down, Van Nyes,” Rollins drawled, a hint of South Texas still in his voice. “Alberts, put that coffee on.” He turned to one of the doors across the room. “We got company, Sanchez, get your ass out here.”
The door opened a few seconds later, and Sanchez strolled out.
Small black eyes, a bullish build. His South American features were actually rather nondescript, but the cruelty in his black gaze was clear.
“Bridger,” Sanchez greeted him warily, his voice heavily accented, those black eyes gleaming as he eased into the kitchen. “Nice little setup you have in town. Pretty area.”
Sanchez was like a pit viper, striking without warning if a man didn’t watch him damned closely.
“It’s home,” Jack said with a shrug, accepting Rollins’s silent invitation to sit at the table.
Lucas remained close behind Jack but didn’t sit down. When the time came, they’d use the weapons the men had on them to take them out.
Carefully making note of the knives on both Sanchez and Rollins, Jack started mentally counting down his time to Hayes and Hank’s entrance.
“There was a team taken out night before last,” Jack told them as he sat back in his chair in feigned comfort. “Mick Candless’s team. You hear anything ’bout that?”
Rollins’s brows rose slowly. “All of them?” The speculative light in his gaze hinted at real interest rather than guilt.
“Got ’em all,” Jack said with a nod, lying. “Even the pilot and an unidentified female.”
“That be Coye’s wife,” Van Nyes spoke up. “Heard she had a little bun in the oven too.”
Fucker. There was no compassion, no regret in the other man’s expression or his gaze, but neither could Jack detect guilt.
He knew Rollins—if his team had taken Mick out, it would be hard to keep the pride out of his expression.
“One less group to compete with, I guess.” Rollins shrugged with a sideways grin.
“Where are your other men?” Sanchez was holding on to his suspicion, despite Rollins’s apparent lack of it.
“Waiting at the end of the road,” Jack informed him. “We came to talk, not to fight.” He gave the appearance of smiling with ease. “I appreciate you letting me know you were in town. Some groups might think it okay to conduct business here without alerting us.”
Rollins nodded with a grin. “Hadn’t heard there was a local group in the area,” he said. “We didn’t know till we saw you in town and heard gossip ’bout your woman. It was real amusing. Heard you got fucked over real good with those SEALs you liked to play with. You done with them?”
“What do you think?” he asked Rollins, his tone hard as he met the other man’s gaze with a flat stare.
Rollins chuckled ruefully. “Yeah, got wind you told ’em to get fucked.”
Van Nyes chuckled from his position behind Rollins. Lucas would have that gun, quick, Jack knew.
“Pansy-assed fuckers,” Van Nyes murmured. “Their commanders tell ’em to bend over, and they pull their ass cheeks apart for them.”
Just a few more minutes, and he promised himself he’d make Van Nyes suffer.
“You have a job here or just passing through?” Jack asked, tired of the bullshit. “Because now, if you have a job here, we need to discuss a few things. If you’re just passing through, then we’ll just go.”
That wasn’t going to happen, but Jack had planned for the answer he got.
“Rumor of a job, maybe,” Rollins answered, leaning forward in his chair, his gaze turning more serious now. “We heard something might be coming up and thought we’d stop in, since we were heading through this way anyway.”
Bullshit.
He had a contact, Jack thought, wondering who the hell it could be.
“You have an offer then?” Jack laid both hands on the table.
