Page 103 of Broken Oath

Either way, the investigation was working.

People didn’t plant truck bombs to protect worthless information.

They did it when someone threatened the truth.

The side entrance opened.

Weapons appeared throughout the warehouse.

Rook’s pistol came up.

Falcon moved toward the nearest cover.

Sniper rose from the chair despite the blood running down his temple.

Two men entered with their hands visible.

Dean “Maverick” Johnson came first.

Scott “Shark” Cooper followed.

Both had served under Rook before leaving the Navy the previous year.

Both had fought beside the six men buried at Arlington.

Maverick looked much the same as Rook remembered him.

Tall.

Broad-shouldered.

A permanent glint of trouble in his eyes.

Shark was quieter. Harder. The kind of man who could stand motionless in a crowded room and still know where every exit was.

Reef stepped forward.

“They’re clear.”

Rook didn’t lower his weapon.

“Fathom?”

Fathom glanced at his monitor.

“Travel history checks out. No unexplained deposits. No contact with anyone on our list. Both men followed the routes Reef provided and changed vehicles twice.”

“Three times,” Shark corrected.

Fathom looked at him.

“The motorcycle?”

“You missed that?”

A dangerous silence followed.

Sniper winced. “Now he’ll be awake for a week.”