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The idea of Marisa pregnant stirred something in me. I liked the idea of Marisa and me having a baby together.Where the hell did that come from?
I needed to calm the fuck down. Shaking my head, trying to purge that thought from my head, I tried to bring my focus back to the work in front of me.
Then another bout of excitement coursed through me. Maybe Marisa was why I got pulled onto this assignment. Maybe she requested me to work as part of the security detail. “Who are the cops assigned to this case?” I asked.
Jackson met my eyes. He knew why I was asking. “No idea.” His words were sincere. He was trustworthy, a man of integrity, so I knew the directness of his response was not some cheap cover. If he knew Marisa was involved, he would have said so.
Cruz asked, “How’s the robbery crew hitting the banks?” at the same time that Rogers asked, “What’s their modus operandi?”
“It varies,” Jackson said. “It’s a team of six. It appears they did extensive recon, casing each bank. It’s either an inside job, or this is several months in the making. The SDPD team working the case has reviewed hundreds of hours of footage from the banks they’ve hit. It appears the robbers went to each location several times—weeks in advance, different days, different hours. They’ve been able to dial into weaknesses and determine the best day and time to make their score at each one.
“The fact that they haven’t attempted West Coast Banking and Trust yet means a couple of things. They haven’t had time. They’re getting scared, which is unlikely the case. Or perhaps they’re done. Although that’s highly unlikely as well.”
“Probably waiting to hit it to make sure their method is foolproof. Ensure when they do get there, they won’t screw up,” Rogers said.
“I concur,” I said. Jackson nodded and drew in a deep breath. “Our proposal needs to be airtight. We have no room for error. Got it?”
“Loud and clear, Boss,” Cruz said. Jackson delegated responsibilities to the three of us. Cruz, Rogers, and I agreed to meet and hash out the details after the teleconference.
“Let’s get to it,” Rogers said to Cruz. “See you when you’re done, Sanderson,” he told me as he and Cruz headed to another room to get started.
* * *
Jackson and I were ready for our teleconference with the Virginia team. I needed to discuss the retreat I was in charge of planning in February for retired veterans. Our focus was to help individuals who had PTSD, but we encouraged anyone who wanted to offer support to come and participate.
We also needed to review their current assignments and progress. Even from across the country, my computing skills were an integral part of our success. More to the point, my hacking skills.
“What’s going on?” Jackson asked, tapping furiously at his monitor and keyboard. Something was weird with our wireless connection. “Gimme a sec,” I told Jackson, moving to check the modem and wires.
Dings were sounding with everyone joining the meeting. I was down on one knee in front of Jackson. The connection was wonky, and I was working on fixing the connectivity issue. “Got it. We’re good now,” I said, popping up.
“Oh, isn’t that cute? Sandy’s proposing to Muffin,” Mark taunted like the prick he was. “Sandy’s your work-wife. Shouldn’t you be proposing to him, Muff?”
Jackson refused to acknowledge him.
Liam snickered.
I rolled my eyes.
“Did I call it or what, boys? Look at Sandy’s face. Disapproving and judgmental. Scowl on his face. Pursed lips. Sandman is definitely Muff’s work-wife.”
“I was working. Fixing shit. You know, like real men do?”
“Yeah, somejobyou’re doing. Working real hard, I see.”
“I do work hard. What do you do all day, Twinkle Toes?”
“I get shit done.”
“You call what you do work, Twilight?” Quinn jumped in. “I call it kissing ass.”
Mark’s glare aimed at Quinn was shooting daggers. “You can kiss my fat d—”
“Speaking of fat”—I cut him off, leaning forward like I was getting a better look through the screen to the other side where Mark was sitting—“you’re looking a little thick around the middle, Twinkie.” Mark hated when anyone said shit about his weight or physique. And calling himTwinkiewas one dig I knew would get him where it hurt most.
Quinn, Liam, Ben, and Jackson exploded with laughter. Jackson gave me a thumbs up off camera.
Mark flexed his arms, his muscles straining against the fabric. “I will have you know—”
