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“Okay, these ‘searches’ and ‘inquiries’ are using all post-college information. They begin with where you did Basic.”
Copper echoed him when he said, “Pendleton.”
“Right. Then the next leap is to the invasion of Afghanistan.” Brad had gone to the ‘stan plenty of times. It was probably his first deployment. “The next is Iraq, then Liberia. Each one, I’m presuming, was a mission. The search strings are using some fairly specific data. It doesn’t get personal until the beach photo. Then the search strings include data about Sachi. All very nonspecific, unless you know—”
At the sudden silence, Sachi paused on a stitch. She glanced at Gabriel, and Brad shifted to focus on him. “What?”
“When did you get the butterfly, sweetheart?”
“Six months before Phoenix.”
“Three—three and half years ago.”
Her answer overlapped his, but they added simultaneously, “Why?”
“She’s a real looker, favors a red dress or sometimes black. Be wary of this widow. Despite the blue butterfly on her ass, she has a wasp’s sting and survives more explosions than a cockroach. This witch doesn’t die when you drop a building on her.”
Ice poured into Brad’s veins. That wasn’t remotely general. “They do know who she is.”
“Yeah. I want the rest of the searches.” Gabriel’s brisk, business-like tone belied the quiet fury burning in his eyes. For the first time, Brad got a look at the weapon beneath the genial professor guise.
His respect went up a notch. “We’ve got this,” he told him, feeling the need to offer some assurance. “We won’t let anything happen to her.”
“No,” Gabriel agreed. “We won’t.”
“Witch with the wasp’s sting standing right here.” She jabbed him with the needle, and Brad grimaced. “More than capable of taking care of myself.”
“Be gentle. Wounded man here.”
She snorted.
“And I’mnotworried about you taking care of yourself,” he said. It was the first lie he’d told. He’d worried about her not taking care of herself a lot, especially after he’d seen the rat-infested building she’d been living in for the two years she was off Elite Recon. Frankly, he’d seen Gabriel looking after her, and he was here. Even if she tried to go off the reservation, she wasn’t going far.
“Moving on,” Gabriel said with a hint of force, and Brad swallowed another grin.
Yep, keep her on target, but she’s still touching me.
“Who else knows about your tattoo?” The question was solid. She hadn’t advertised it, to Brad’s recollection. “You don’t like distinctive marks people can remember or see. It’s why you have the Elite Metal tattoo on your foot.”
Brad hadn’t forgotten. Unlike their brothers, she didn’t go for body art. Not because she didn’t like it, but because people remembered ink. She’d gone through a damned painful sole of her foot tattoo, but few if any would see the bottom of her foot, so it didn’t stand out. “I know it’s there. The guys on the team. John, for sure. He’s the one who picked it out.”After she’d lost a bet.Brad had overseen the tattoo, because he wasn’t letting just anyone with a needle on her ass, but John picked the butterfly for her. “Anyone she’s slept with.”
The needle jabbed him again.
“Though if you dig that needle in any harder, I’m going to be worried about me. Short, shallow pulls, you’re not attaching skin to my bones.”
Another snort, then a half-laugh, and he went still. Her snicker was a gift in and of itself, but a laugh? From the corner of his eye, he caught Gabriel’s stillness and the way he stared at Sachi.
Yep.Ball was in Brad’s court.Come on, Spook. Learn the rules of the game.
Chapter 4
By the time they landed in Billings, they had a plan. They’d use the safe house while Gabriel exercised his contacts and sources to deepen the search. Though Brad and Sachi insisted John would be tailing their excursion, they didn’t see him at the airport. No sooner did they deplane with their bags than the private plane refueled and left.
With a rental car, they drove out of the city into the deserted outskirts. The cold had Sachi bundling into a heavy coat, and rather than argue about who would sit where, she’d climbed into the backseat and stared out the window. Left with Brad in the front passenger seat, Gabriel glanced at her periodically in the rearview mirror. Since stitching Brad’s wound, she’d been oddly silent.
Two hours later, they checked the drive of the lodge house. It was in the middle of nowhere—more than ten miles from their closest neighbor. A heavy snowfall had painted the landscape white, leaving only the pine trees for a touch of color.
She and Brad slipped out of the car as soon as it stopped. Pausing with his hand on the keys, Gabriel split his attention between the two. Whether they realized it or not, they moved with the same purpose. Both scanned the area, a wariness instilled from years in the field. The mirroring postures, the baiting, even the way they watched when they believed the other wasn’t looking.
