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"Stop busting his chops, Lash," Bianca said, all business as she nailed Isaac to the floor with a piercing gaze. "This isn't like other freelance jobs. This is for one of our own. It's a team effort.No on goes lone wolf on this one."
Lone wolf? Is that what they wanted to call it? He didn't play well with others. He did what was right, not what he was told. It had cost him his rank. His livelihood. His brothers in arms. And if he had to go back and do it again, he wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger. This wasn't Afghanistan, though, and the members of the B-Squad weren't a scared, mentally broken Marine with a gun to a four-year-old girl's head. In this specific instance, he could do the one thing he swore he'd never do again. Be a team player.
He nodded. "Understood."
Taz gave him a long, hard look, as if the former boxer was sizing him up before they stepped into the ring. "I sure hope so."
Heat flared in a primitive part of Isaac’s brain, the one that responded to direct challenges with fists and firearms. It took a second, but he managed to push it back. Taz was just looking out for Tamara.The entire B-Squad was. They weren't the enemy. Jarrod Fane was. Still, the whole inquisition chapped his ass.
"If you're done lecturing me," he said with only the barest hint of a snarl. "Let's get this show on the road."
"Elisa and Marko, you'll tag-team as backup on this one," Bianca said, rattling off orders like she'd been born to run a team like this. "Get packed and be ready to go first thing in the morning. I'll call Jake Warrick with Absolute Security and tell him we need the jet back from Dry Creek, Nebraska ASAP. While you're getting Essie, the rest of us will monitor from here while we develop the case against Fane. Keir, you'll take lead on that. Pump your contacts for everything you've got, and I need it yesterday."
Isaac didn't wait for a dismissal. He had his orders. In a moment of complete non-verbal understanding, he and Tamara turned as a unit and strode across the room. Vivi and Lexie were already headed out into the hallway. He and Tamara followed out the door behind them. They'd taken a few steps into the hallway when Tamara slowed to a stop.
"What was that all about?" she asked.
He could tell her all about that night, peel back his skin and show her all the invisible scars that were still as jagged as they were in the heartbeat after he'd fired that kill shot. He could tell her. But he wouldn't. Some ugly was best left buried.
"I'm a man of mystery." He'd tried the good old boy grin, but it felt crooked on his face. So he did what he always did. He walked.
She curled her fingers around his forearm, stopping him. "No, you're not, you're—"
A muffled version of “Flight of the Valkyries” sounded from her purse. All the blood drained out of her face as she skipped rooting around for the phone and dumped it out in the middle of the hallway instead. She squatted down, shoving through the receipts, tubes of lipstick, and stray receipts until she retrieved her phone with trembling hands.
"Essie, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice pinched.
He couldn't hear the answer, but whatever it was made Tamara sink to the floor, her long hair covering her face.
Chapter 15
Tamara
Blood rushed through her ears so fast that she could barely hear Essie's voice on the other end of the line of the burner phone. She'd given the number to Essie to call in case of emergency.
"Did you hear me, Aunt T? I think daddy found me."
Panicking—though tempting beyond words—wouldn't help. So Tamara sucked in a hard breath through her nostrils and let it out in one long exhale through her mouth. The roar in her ears quieted. Better. Much better. She could feel Isaac hovering above her, but every ounce of her attention needed to be focused on her niece.
"I heard you, Essie." Damn, she sounded totally calm and together for a woman sitting on her ass in the hallway on the verge of an anxiety attack. "Tell me everything."
"I was walking home from the library today and was a few blocks away from the house when I noticed a blue sedan going kinda slow. I figured it was probably a total creeper, so I stopped at one of the boutiques on Clifton Street and watched through the store window. One of the men in the car looked like a guy that used to hang around daddy."
This should not be happening. How in the hell had Jarrod managed to track Essie down? Tamara thought she'd been so careful. Then again, he'd lucked into finding her too. If he managed to get his hands on Essie, the bastard would use both instances as proof to his followers that God was on his side—if the man really was part of Jarrod's cult. It could be mistaken identity or a coincidence, but Tamara's twisted up gut didn't think so.
"The man in the car, was he part of the Crest Society?" she asked.
"No, bu
t he did work for daddy. The kind of work that usually meant someone was in trouble."
"Are you sure it was him?"
"No, but I'm scared." There was more than just fear in Essie's voice. A fine thread of hysteria ran through each word.
Tamara eased herself back into a standing position, her back to the wall and Isaac in front of her, no doubt filling in the blanks of Essie's side of the conversation. "Where are you now?"
"After the sedan went by, I went into the store and out the back way. I ran through the alleys back to Albert's house. I didn't see the car again."
