Nevada’s sunrise was still a few hours away. The air bit cold, and the only sounds were the soft rustling of horses snorting into their feed. The soldiers and assassins rotated caring for the horses they kept on the ranch.
Taking a sip of his hot coffee, Dave’s gaze landed on the interrogation building that came equipped with a few holding cells they used for questioning suspects.
They’d caught Franklin.
It was amazing that they’d all walked away unharmed for the most part.
He wondered how Titus was doing with getting information out of Franklin. He felt bad for Titus being caged up with the guy. That sick fuck was no prize, that was for sure.
It was a shitty job, but one only Titus could pull off.
Thankfully, they’d managed to get Franklin’s smartphone, and Sage had cracked it open late last night. He would go through all of the information today and hopefully find Tatum’s whereabouts in the info.
Shoving up from his seat, Dave made his way across the yard and into the building.
With a nod to the guard at the door, he walked farther down the hallway to the cells.
“Sir.” The guard farther in snapped to attention.
Dave stopped in front of the two side-by-side cells and gestured to the one that held Titus.
“Bring him.”
The guard snapped to, unlocked the cell door, and pulled Titus out by the arm.
Dave returned to the doorway and stepped outside. He walked over to one of the corrals and leaned his arms on the fence, cradling his coffee.
Titus stood silently nearby.
“You can go,” Dave told the guard.
“Sir?”
“It’s okay,” Dave assured the guard, and after a moment of hesitation, the soldier left them, returning to his duties inside the building.
The sun was starting to rise over the horizon.
An hour later, Stone rolled over with a low groan. He wasn’t as old as Dave, but years of work—the missions, the miles, the hits—had carved their share of aches into him.
He sat on the edge of the bed, cracked his neck, and pushed to his feet before heading for the shower.
Twenty-five minutes later, he had fresh coffee in hand and stepped out onto the front porch. The smell of breakfast drifted with him, rich and familiar. Inside, Cookie was in full swing, barking orders at the staff helping him feed the men in the house. The mess hall had its own crew—people Cookie had handpicked—to handle the larger crowds.
Dave’s office had been empty when Stone passed by, which meant he was probably outside making sure every order was followed to the letter. He worked too damn much.
What he should’ve done this morning was pull Dave back into bed and keep him there for a few more hours—just the two of them, warm, still, and talking with no world pressing in.
The sun was up, and it promised to be a hot day despite it being Thanksgiving Week.
The door creaked open, and Viper stepped out onto the porch, coffee in hand, a yawn cracking through his words.
“How’d you sleep?” Stone murmured.
“So-so.” Viper shrugged and leaned against the railing. “I just hope Titus gets something out of that bastard so we can put this to bed.”
“Yeah,” Stone said, taking a slow sip. “Doubt it’ll happen. He works for Tatum.”
Viper grunted. “Sage is digging into Franklin’s cloud account.” He dropped into the chair beside Stone, the wood creaking under his weight.
