"My boss used every contact we have to make sure we wouldn't be making a catastrophic mistake," Doyle said. "Granger's clean. The threat is real. And it's from the corridor we interrupted."
"Was it your idea to bring in me and the Aegis network? Or was it your boss'?" Sterling asked.
"I floated it, but he was already looking at different security companies. There's a big one that has branches between Idaho,Utah, and Tennessee, but my boss wasn't thrilled with some changes they were making."
Sterling nodded. "Neither were some of the men and women working for that organization. Some of them have moved over to our network."
"That's one of the reasons my boss liked this partnership," Doyle said. "He's heard nothing but good things about Aegis. And you."
"And what does he know about me?"
"He worked JSOC before he went private," Doyle said. "Maybe you've heard of him. He was a Ranger. Name's Nolan Rutgers. Code name: Mr. Rogers, and he knew about The Librarian."
"I've never worked with him, but I've heard about him." The world of covert operations was a small one. "Is he like how everyone described him?"
"Let's just say I wouldn't want to be interrogated by him," Doyle said. "I've never seen anyone use politeness as a psychological weapon like he does. And it works. I've watched him break targets just by offering them tea and asking about their families. It's weird."
"I heard he used to saylet's go say hello to the neighborsbefore an ambush."
"He still says strange shit like that." Doyle nodded. "He'd really like for you to consider teaming up with us for this job."
"Can I take this?"
"Of course." Doyle pushed aside his coffee. "Talk it over with your team. Poke as many holes in it as you want." He leaned back and smiled. "You always did like to poke holes in everything."
Sterling chuckled because that was still a true statement. "If I decided I want to take it on, I'd have to run it past my boss, Buddy." Sterling picked up his sandwich. "But he's on hishoneymoon another full day. Nothing happens without his sign-off."
"The job's not until next week. Take your time," Doyle said. "Anything else?"
"Not right now."
Doyle stood as Heather appeared at the end of the booth with a paper bag and a fresh coffee. He took both.
Sterling cocked his head. "You ordered to go."
Doyle shrugged. "Hot date before the airboat ride. Sorry, man. You know me—I can't say no to a pretty woman who tells me she's going to be naked in my cabin for the next two hours."
"Be nice to Tara." Sterling waved a finger at Doyle. "Don't break her heart. She's a good person. And she happens to be my girlfriend's day manager."
"Girlfriend." Doyle's grin spread wide. "One date, and she's your girlfriend? Look at you, all grown up, finally developing moves at—what are you now, pushing forty? Took you long enough." He clapped Sterling on the shoulder, hard. "I'll text you when I'm on my way over." And then he was gone, out the slapping screen door and into the bright wet morning, paper bag in one hand and coffee in the other, just like the old days.
Sterling sat in the front booth and stared down the street. He played the conversation over in his brain, searching for what didn't fit. But everything snuggled together like spoons and that was worse than the thing that stuck out like a big fat thumb where fingers were supposed to be. It was too neat. Too perfect. Too easy.
He finished the coffee, left cash under the cup, and stood.
Nothing he could do about the job until he got more information on the client.
However, the second he got to the office, he and the team were going to run a full background check on Doyle Malone, Meridian Tactical, Granger Frost, and Ashbourne Holdings.
Because Doyle was right about one thing.
Sterling enjoyed poking holes.
Chapter Seven
Juniper leaned across the bar and tapped her pencil against the wooden counter. When she'd first taken the assignment, she thought Calusa Cove was some New England town. Or maybe way up in north Maine. She had no idea why she’d thought that. Maybe because she'd once visited a little coastal village in Massachusetts called Kettle Cove. And Mark had been from Bangor, Maine, and he’d always talked about Christmas Cove and how they should go one day.
They never did.
