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“Start from the beginning,” Rowe said with a gentleness that surprised Noah.
JB took a deep breath, held it for a second, and slowly released it. “Chris Perkins and Paul Grimes were part of the team that Noah headed up. After Noah retired from the Army, the three of us kept in contact.” JB’s eyes darted over to Noah, and there was no stopping the stab of guilt.
No, he hadn’t tried to keep in contact with anyone from his Army days. At the end of his career, his head had been a mess. He wanted to block it all out and then shortly after he got out, he discovered that Rowe’s wife died. His thoughts had been a black quagmire, and he didn’t feel good about reaching out to former friends who were still stuck in dangerous war zones.
He should have done so later, and there was no excuse for it.
“I got out almost two years ago. Then Chris and Paul followed not long after. We didn’t talk a lot. Mostly emails and some texts here and there. Less than a week ago, I got a weird email from Chris. He’d just gotten a job at a security company in Alexandria, Virginia. He was asking about Dave Johnson. He was sure that Dave was one of the guys that got killed in the Afghanistan ambush. He was asking for one of us to see if he was listed among those killed or captured. Wanted us to send him a pic of the guy.”
Noah straightened in the chair he’d been sitting in, a chill running down his back. The cold streak hit him anytime anyone mentioned the Afghanistan ambush. It had been a terrifying close call for his team. At least twenty-seven lives were lost that night, not counting the three men who had been taken prisoner. Last Noah had heard, their bodies were never recovered, but it was widely believed that the men were dead.
“I replied that it was likely that the guy just looked similar. Paul said that he’d dig around and see what he could turn up.” JB paused and pressed the heel of his palm into one eye, rubbing it. “I’ll admit that I didn’t give it much thought. Every time I think of that damn ambush, I keep thinking that it could have been us. I didn’t want to dig into it. Two nights ago, I got a call from Paul. It went to voice mail. I was out and didn’t have the ringer turned up loud enough.” Noah swore he could see a light blush steal across the man’s cheeks. He had no doubt that JB had been out having a drink and trying to get laid. Nothing wrong with that. With a face like his, Noah was confident that he didn’t have to work too hard.
Reaching over to the nightstand between the two beds, he picked up his phone and pulled up the voice mail. He turned up the volume and Noah stepped closer as he pressed play. Paul’s terrified voice filled the silent room.
“Fuck! JB, pick up! You gotta run, man. Grab your bugout bag and go dark. Chris is dead. Three are after me. You need to find Keegan before it’s too late. Warn—”
There was a loud shot and then the phone clattered. Noah’s knees gave out at the sound of Paul’s low, pained moan and the rasp of fabric rubbing against grass. He found himself sitting on the end of the bed. Rowe’s strong hand wrapped around the nape of his neck, and Noah could finally breathe again. He reached up and gripped Rowe’s wrist, using it to keep him grounded as he listened to two more shots. The sound of gravel crunching under booted feet whispered across the line. The recording stopped as if someone had hung up the call.
JB put his phone on the nightstand, his hand now shaking, while Noah roughly wiped the tears burning his eyes. Chris and Paul had been damn good men. They’d never hesitated to jump into a fight and they’d always had his back.
Clearing his throat a couple of times, JB continued. “I tried calling Chris but got no answer. Yesterday, I actually managed to talk to his wife. She said he died in a car accident. The day after he sent the email.”
Rowe’s hand tightened reflexively on the back of Noah’s neck, and he instantly wanted to pull Rowe into his arms. The man had already lost Mel in a so-called accident.
“After listening to the voice mail and not being able to reach Chris, I did what Paul said. I grabbed my bugout bag and just started driving. That first day, I didn’t even have a plan. Last I heard you were in Cincinnati, but I wasn’t sure if I should reach out to you. If this was about that stupid email, then you were safe because Chris didn’t include you on the original email. But if this person was taking out the old team, then you were a target too. I didn’t want to bring these fuckers to you, but if you needed to watch your back and didn’t know…”
