She glanced at her notes. “I found nothing actionable. No indications anyone connected to Baghdad has the resources, access or interest to target you now.”
Lex looked around the room. “Which leaves the stronger probability that Summer was always the intended target.”
A heavy silence settled over the room.
Pope exhaled slowly.
Only Carson had read his file. But if he was part of the team he needed to be open with them and answer the questions clear on their faces.
He braced his forearms on the table, head bowed as the old guilt that landed him on this ranch in the first place clawed up his spine. “I was guarding a diplomat at an embassy in Baghdad.”
Every gaze focused on him.
“It was a dinner meeting. The man started gasping for air.” He swallowed as his own throat constricted with the memory. The room blurred as the old helplessness burned his chest.
“I tried to save him. But he died.” His voice pitched low.
Nobody moved or spoke. Pope stared at the windows but didn’t see the mountains beyond. “Later, the wife shot herself.” His jaw locked hard. “Left two kids orphaned.”
The silence afterward hung heavy.
Denver finally leaned back slowly in his chair. “I’ve heard similar stories from my time as a SEAL.”
Pope looked over.
Denver nodded grimly. “Lex is right. There could be political fallout. Family left looking for somebody to blame.”
Lex scribbled notes quickly now, her expression solemn. “I’ll start pulling embassy personnel records, studying surviving family connections, behavioral patterns, online chatter. I’ll compile a profile and see what fits.”
Carson nodded once. “Good.”
The meeting dissolved after that, conversations breaking into smaller groups as they grabbed coffee or checked phones.Pope stayed seated another minute, trying to shove Baghdad back into the locked place inside him where it usually stayed.
Then he got up and headed for the Stockyard. Summer was there. And she’d become his only peace.
The familiar warmth and noise of the bar wrapped around him the second he stepped inside. Country music rolled through the lunch rush and customers laughed over chicken wings and beer.
He picked out Summer across the room, carrying drinks to tables. The warmth from the lights highlighted the shine of her hair. The second she noticed him near the doorway, her expression softened in the way that did dangerous things to his chest every damn time.
Pope settled onto a stool near the end of the bar, keeping one eye on the room.
“You okay?” she asked quietly when she passed him.
“Yeah.”
Not entirely true. But being near her helped. It felt like he could draw a full breath again after the meeting.
A familiar voice sounded farther down the bar.
“Well damn. Didn’t know the Black Heart Ranch let their guys stop working long enough to enjoy a beer.”
Pope looked over and recognized the truck driver.
Gary Crowe lifted his beer in greeting. “Good to see ya, cowboy.”
Pope thumbed his hat in greeting. “Back for the auction?”
Gary nodded. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
