Page 17 of Hollow Trace

Scout shuffled in front of him, glancing over her shoulder for a moment. “There are just a few things we need to go over before you go inside.”

“Is there a secret phrase I need to memorize? Maybe a handshake?”

“No, but you’re making me want to insist on both.” She raked her fingers through her hair. “I need you to promise me you’ll be Quinn Taylor, the man, not Corporal Taylor, the cop. At least until you get a sense of the place.”

He furrowed his brow. “What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means, I need you not to scrutinize everything through the eyes of an investigator.”

“Are you selling drugs? Harboring fugitives? Maybe trafficking weapons?”

“Don’t be an ass.”

“That’s not a no.”

Scout blew out a raspy breath, fluttering some stray wisps of hair around her face. “Just promise me, you’ll be cool.”

“I’m just me.” He leaned closer. “That never seemed to be a problem for you before.”

“I didn’t say it’s a problem now, it’s just…” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Christ, you’re annoying, you know that?”

“And you’re being cryptic because there’s something in this bunker that you know is gonna eat at me, but you’re not willing to just tell me what it is. Why is that?”

“Because it’s better if we don’t talk about sensitive shit outside where any dumbass with a parabolic mic or a damn drone can overhear us. As secure as this place is, nothing is guaranteed.” She turned, taking a step. “Just don’t tackle anyone or start reading them their rights.”

She struck off, back rigid, head high, her boots squeaking against the floor with every stride. The exact opposite of how she’d been in the truck on the way home — electing to sit with him in the back. Squeezing his hand whenever the image of Brea’s face as that bastard had pointed the weapon at her threatened to pull him under.

When those echoed gunshots drowned out the sound of Scout’s whispered breath, the heat of her body next to his.

Quinn rolled his shoulders, worked out a few kinks as he followed her across the yard, stopping in front of a stone wall. She slid him a questionable side-eye, then pushed on the rock. Hinges creaked behind the surface a moment before a panel slid open, revealing a hallway.

Scout walked inside, peeled off her vest and hung it on a hook before heading down the hallway, not bothering to check if he was following. She stopped at the far end where the corridor opened up into a larger space. Wet clothes hugging every inch of her body, she made his heart race faster than when they’d been pushing hard to catch Brea. Tagging behind, he studied the walls, wondering what hid behind the doors before moving in behind her.

Bright, overhead lights illuminated the massive room, a mix of concrete, wood and steel dominating the area. A kitchen sat off to his right, living area to the left with more hallways and doors rounding out the specs. The rest of Scout’s team filled the kitchen, grabbing drinks and talking to two other men. One he recognized from the funeral — Kane Archer. He’d supposedly died in the mine collapse, too. The other man was unfamiliar, and someone Quinn would have pegged as a butler if the guy didn’t move as if he could take them all out in under ten seconds.

The man glanced his way, smiling as he headed over, offering Quinn a beer. “Nice to finally meet the man behind the name, Corporal Taylor. I’m Shepherd, and you look like you could use a beer.” His gaze drifted the length of Quinn. “And some new clothes.”

Quinn accepted the bottle, wondering, again, if he really was at the bottom of that ravine and this was some weird final mission his brain had concocted when a throat cleared off to his left. He turned, focusing on the man commanding the hallway, shoulders pressed back, a scowl curving his mouth.

General Augustus Esposito. A legend in military circles and obviously the guy behind whatever was going on here. Quinn had seen him at the funeral, too. He’d also been questioned during that whole Hyperion fiasco Scout had mentioned earlier.

The general arched a brow, glancing over at Coulter and Neve. “Why is it that whenever we have a new encounter with some of Finch’s men, you bring home another security risk? Does top secret mission mean something different to the two of you?”

Coulter stepped forward. “The man was pinned down by a group of enhanced. What did you expect us to do? Abandon him?”

“Yes, Captain, if it means protecting the security of this operation.”

“Sorry, Gus, but that’s not how I roll. How any of us roll, and it’ll be a cold day in hell before I abandon a brother in need. Quinn’s not some lackey. He’s a warrior.”

“I’m not questioning his honor.” Gus turned to Quinn. “Nothing personal, Corporal Taylor, but you’re a giant-ass liability in my already highly compromised mission.”

Quinn sized up the general, his left hand drifting toward the Sig still holstered at his hip. “Based on what I experienced tonight, you have bigger issues than whether or not I know about your secret lair.”

“Right up until what’s in our secret lair brings out the cop in you.”

Quinn chuckled. “I’ve already seen your office supplies, and considering they saved my life, I’m not all that upset about it.”

“I’m not talking about weapons, am I Scout?”