Page 56 of Deep Cover

THIRTEEN

Rivers meant to keep his eyes on his own work. That lasted about four seconds with Caryssa in the room.

The team had settled around the war room table with the loose rhythm that followed breakfast most mornings when they weren’t called out on an op.

Younger sprawled in his chair, looking uninvested in the task Cannon gave him. Rome and Rorke argued over whose turn it was to make a new pot of coffee, and O was already three cameras deep into whatever footage he’d pulled overnight. Townie and Cannon were at the head of the table sorting through a stack of printouts before the meeting was actually called to order.

Rivers was supposed to be working on the supply list, but instead he used the lull to watch Caryssa.

Her gaze was fixed on her laptop, her spine straight. Her hair was pulled back in a silver clip that made his fingers itch to loosen it and let her silky locks spill into his hands.

He watched the small furrow between her brows deepen as something on the screen didn’t sit right in her mind. She still chewed her lip when she was concentrating, and his stomach tingled at seeing the habit she’d never been able to kick.

Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up, looking straight at Cannon. “My boss, Doyle, is requesting a video conference.”

Cannon gave the go-ahead.

Doyle’s voice cut through the low murmur of the room, businesslike, impatient in the specific way of a man who’d been waiting on an update longer than he wanted to admit. “Lane, tell me you’ve got something for me on Bill.”

“I’ve given you all I know during our check-ins, but I’ll recap.” She pulled her laptop around so the camera caught her screen. “We recovered two laptops out of his Portland office. There’s a whole second business running underneath the legitimate one. Shell companies, off-book deliveries, the works.”

“And the bomb?”

“Components are being run against known inventory now.” She glanced toward O, who gave a small nod without looking up from his screen.

“Good.” Doyle’s expression shifted, softer for a second before he masked it. “I promised you an update on the agent who was guarding Stina Velez. Nothing new to report.”

She grimaced.

Rivers caught the expression—there and gone so fast that he would have missed it if he’d blinked. But he knew Caryssa, and her shoulders had definitely drawn inward and her jaw tensed momentarily at the mention of the agent.

She fixed her attention on the screen, leaning in with intent. She scrolled with more focus than the moment probably called for, and Rivers couldn’t stop the question burning on his tongue.

“Did you know him?”

She didn’t look up immediately, but when she did, she bit down on her lip again before answering. “Yeah. I did.”

Her reaction was enough to send an ugly, unwelcome stab through Rivers’s chest. Maybe know him meant beyond work.

Maybe, in the years of her life after Rivers vanished, she’d found a person worth caring about.

He had no right to feel anything about the matter. He only hoped to protect everyone and hadn’t thought more about what happened to those he left behind. Now questions were circling his mind, which he pushed them away for later, when they were alone.

She gave Doyle her attention. “Thanks for the update. Now, about the files I sent you this morning. There are payment records for hotel stays cross-referenced against a download from the travel booking app with the actual itineraries. The two don’t match.”

“I’m listening,” Doyle said.

Now they were all paying attention.

“Some of his trips in the travel app never show up in the company books. No payments, no record—nothing tying them to the business at all.”

“So he paid for those trips some other way.”

She drew in a deep breath, back to her usual professional self. “Or someone else did.”

Doyle crossed his arms and gave a slow nod. “Good. Keep working it.” He looked to Cannon. “Keep me updated of any new developments.”

Cannon nodded in return. “Will do.”