AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Even the man who’d fostered him and given him the place hadn’t known about the tunnel, and until this mission had come up, Jack hadn’t told another living soul about it.
Dawson had been trying to buy it for the past several years, though, just as Crossfield had been after the farm. Multiple letters, messages given to those they knew he was sure to see when he visited home.
He showered quickly and dressed in his normal evening wear: jeans, T-shirt, boots, and leather biker chaps. He pulled on his leather vest as well. Bending, he tucked a weapon in the holster built into the side of his boot. Small, compact, it hid easy but got the job done. He slid his Ka-Bar in the holster built into the inside of his vest, along his side and just under his arm.
The weapons wouldn’t be detectable by the naked eye, but within easy reach. He was starting to suspect it would be best to stay armed at all times. Something he hadn’t looked forward to.
He didn’t wear jewelry; he wore nothing flashy. His size and his obvious strength were flashy enough. There was nothing he could do about it, so he’d learned to accept it instead.
Dark was just beginning to fall when he started the bike and pulled from the back of the house. Glancing along the narrow back road, he saw an unfamiliar gray pickup, its windows tinted, parked at the upper end.
Could be another resident’s company car, he told himself. He’d check the bar parking lot before he and Poppy left.
If it was there, then he’d check it out.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
There were two things Jack noticed when he entered the bar. Well, three actually.
The first was Poppy sitting at the usual table with her friends, this time only two of them, the schoolteacher and the boutique owner.
She wore jeans and boots and a lacy white top, with all that fabulous hair pinned in a messy pile atop her head.
She looked good enough to eat. Something he intended to do once he got her back to her house.
Her expression was shadowed with suspicion as she watched him, her gaze dark with it. Yeah, he had to agree with Kira now: She knew. And he prayed she didn’t ask him about it, because he wasn’t going to lie to her. If she was smart enough to know, and courageous enough to ask, then she’d get the truth.
The second thing Jack noticed was the pair of SEALs from his former team in a shadowed booth, sipping beer and eating nachos.
They were in jeans and work shirts, the construction kind. A little ragged and unkempt, but unmistakable; he knew them like most people knew family. Hell, they’d been his family for years.
The little hand signal the one facing the door gave warned Jack to keep his distance. That told him they weren’t there for him. At least, not yet.
The third thing he noticed was that Ian and Kira sat several booths down from the SEALs, their four cartel bodyguards in one of the booths between them and the SEALs.
Fuck.
So much for a meet later.
“Lucas, you and the others stay close,” he warned the man who’d taken the unofficial second-lead position in their little group.
“Gotcha,” Lucas muttered under his breath, and he and Hayes and Hank moved to the table between Poppy and her friends and the two SEALs.
Homeland Security made a show of keeping Ian and Kira under investigation, and Diego Fuentes was serious about ensuring his only son was protected at all times. It got crowded around Ian in public sometimes, Jack thought.
He strode across the bar to where Poppy sat, the remains of her dinner pushed to the center of the table.
The small group was more subdued than normal, though the other two women didn’t seem suspicious, just following Poppy’s lead perhaps.
“Hi, Jack,” Lilith greeted him.
Tonight, her eyes were a navy blue, though her hair was still purple, blue, and pink. Dressed in a flowy soft dress and heels, she was pretty, but nothing compared to his Poppy.
The same could be said for Erika. The teacher’s short-sleeved gray blouse was paired with jeans and sneakers. Casual, relaxed.
“You need to cheer Poppy up, Jack,” Erika told him, her tone a little too sincere. “She’s in a mood tonight.”
“I’m not in a mood,” Poppy informed her friend, her tone disgruntled. “I told you, I’m just tired.”
