“A little.” Grant’s smile broadened. “We told her to save all her ideas for her own wedding. We’d be happy to help her then.”
Hank chuckled. “And how’s that going? Has she met her match since she moved to San Antonio?”
Grant shook his head. “Not yet, but Avery’s sure it’s only a matter of time.”
“Is she adjusting to her new position with the San Antonio Police Department?”
“She is, and she’s glad to be close to her mother and done with Nebraska winters.”
Hank drank more of his beer before he spoke again. “I had ulterior motives for bringing you up here to Montana when you’re settling into life in Texas.”
“I figured as much,” he said. “Are you letting me go from the Brotherhood Protectors? Because if you are, I’ll be fine. I’m sure I can sign on with a local police department or go to work for the feed store as a stock boy.”
Hank’s brow creased. “What are you talking about? I didn’t bring you here to fire you. I brought you here to listen to a proposal.”
It was Grant’s turn to frown. “Proposal?”
A large black SUV pulled into the yard behind the house and parked. Five men then emerged, each dressed in black and wearing sunglasses.
“Ah, perfect timing,” Hank said.
“Were you expecting a visit from the cast of Men in Black?” Grant asked, a little uneasy with the lack of information he had on this proposal.
The men climbed up onto the porch and shook hands with Hank.
“Let’s go to the war room,” Hank said. “We can make introductions there.”
Grant followed Hank into his house to a door on the far side of the great room. He bent to the biometric scanner as it read his retina. A lock clicked, and the door opened.
The men descended into the operational center of the Brotherhood Protectors.
They gathered around the conference table, all taking a seat before Hank began.
“Gentlemen, thank you for coming all the way to Montana for this meeting. We could have conducted it in D.C. or in San Antonio, but I felt more confident of the security we have in place here. Given the current situation in our country’s capital, I felt it best to bring our discussion here.”
Grant leaned his elbows on the table, all ears, his curiosity piqued.
Hank looked around at the men gathered. “Most of you know each other as you’ve worked together in the past.” He nodded toward Swede. “Axel Svenson is my right-hand man, jack of all trades and our go-to person for anything related to computers, the internet and mining critical data. He’s prior service Navy SEAL, has served with valor and I’d take a bullet for the man.”
“Back atcha,” Swede said.
Hank turned to Grant. “Grant Hayes is a highly decorated Navy SEAL who worked for the FBI as a profiler for several years and is now working for the Brotherhood Protectors. His combat skills are as impressive as his investigative acumen. You can count on him to have your back in any situation.”
Hank drew in a breath and launched into the next portion of his introduction. “The other men at this table are former members of a secret government organization established by a previous president called Stealth Operations Specialists or SOS.”
The men Grant hadn’t recognized all gave a silent nod.
Hank continued. “They too come with impressive records, to include spec ops deployments, Federal assignments like FBI, CIA, DEA and more. They believe in our country and the constitution but aren’t afraid to bend rules if innocent lives are at stake. Like the Brotherhood Protectors, they’re loyal, skilled and you can count on them to have your backs.” He looked to the men at the table. “Did I describe it right?”
The oldest of the men, with a square jaw and short, salt and pepper hair, gave a brief nod. “That’s right.”
Hank dipped his head. “Thank you. And folks, this is Royce Fontaine, the leader of SOS. He’s agreed to stay on as the lead should you decide to join forces with us. Brotherhood Protectors will provide the technical support you need and backup if more resources are required.”
He nodded to the man on his right, who had dark hair and even darker eyes. “Nicolas St. Claire has been with SOS for two and a half years, having been recruited from service with the FBI.” Moving around the table, Hank waved toward the next man. “Logan Rourke, aka Rogue, former Delta Force Sniper with a number of high-value targets both in the Army and as a member of SOS.”
Grant read that as assassinations. Okay, he didn’t want to get on the wrong side of that man.
“Don’t worry, you can trust him to have your back,” Royce said, “not shoot you in the back.”
