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“Uh-huh. Are you certain that’s all it is?”
“I’m doing my job. And I’m curious what the hell you’re doing?”
He retrieved his drink, the same damn smug look on his face. “Are you gonna tell me about this mission you’re on and who you’re working for?”
“I can’t do that.”
“And neither can I.” He had a more serious look on his face.
“Then I guess there’s a line in the sand.”
He looked away, taking a few deep breaths. “Russians, huh? That’s bad news, buddy, no matter what you’re involved in. They’re animals. Just know that you can count on me to help in any way. You’re about the only friend I have left.”
There were several ways to take his words, but I knew what he meant. He’d considered the loss of our team in Afghanistan akin to losing family members. He would likely never get over it.
“I trust you, buddy. I just hope you’re not in over your head.”
He poured another shot of whiskey, walking the bottle in my direction, refilling mine. “You only live once, Cobra. I plan on going out the way I want. In style. I like her. She’s exactly what you need.”
“Stop playing the matchmaker, dude. I’m not interested.”
“Uh-huh. I’ve heard that kind of shit before. Come on. Let me show you the communications room.”
“Were you able to find out anything?”
“A few things, but you had me working on saving your sorry ass.”
I followed him up a set of stairs to one of the half dozen rooms, impressed the moment I walked inside.
“As you can see,” he started, “I can be connected with several different parties and countries at the same time.”
“This isn’t just about you, is it?”
Shrugging, he moved to one of the chairs, sitting down. “Sofia has certain connections of her own given her family history. I really can’t tell you more than that.”
“Let me guess. You’re a hired gun.”
His grin allowed me to know I was right. “I thought I’d use my weapons expertise wisely. The gig pays well, and I don’t have to worry about living expenses for most of the year. Don’t ask me about my clients because you wouldn’t like the answer.”
A mercenary. That made sense.
“Fair enough. What did you find on Dane Shepherd?”
“From what I can tell, and I seriously only had time to do a minimal dive, he’s clean as a whistle. Worked for the Secret Service right out of college. After he left them, he was acquired by the CIA where he’s been ever since.”
“Any large bank accounts?”
“You really think he’s dirty, don’t you?” he asked.
“He has a reason to be.”
“I guess he does since Isabella’s father is slated to win that election in a landslide. He’s not well liked internationally though.”
“Yeah, so I’ve heard.”
His face lit up. “You don’t trust him either.”
“Trust is given only in certain circumstances.”
