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“Calm down,” Scotty said. “Just because your woman left your sorry carcass doesn’t mean—”
“She didn’t leave me. She let me go because she knew I needed to be here, watching over all of you ungrateful jackasses and making sure you don’t get killed.”
Scotty snorted. “We’re not baby birds, man. We can look after ourselves.”
Spencer didn’t reply, just shook his head. Theydidneed looking after, whether they’d admit it or not. They needed him to keep his eyes open, pay attention, make sure no one popped up on a rooftop or in a window with a sniper rifle in hand. He couldn’t let that happen again.
He looked up to see Kyle watching him closely. “Is that why you came with us from Jubail,” he asked, “instead of staying with Toni? Did you think you had to look after us?”
“Well,yeah. You were transporting Williams. It was a high-risk mission. Of course I needed to be there, watching your backs. Isn’t that my job?”
Kyle leaned in. “It wasn’t your fault, you know,” he said abruptly.
Spencer frowned. “What wasn’t my fault?”
“Nick,” Kyle said. “What happened to him wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes it was. I’m the sniper. I should have noticed—”
“Wait, what?” Gage interrupted. “Dude, have you been blaming yourself for that all this time?”
“Of course I blame myself,” Spencer insisted. “You guys rely on me to watch your backs, and I failed. I let you down. I letmyselfdown. And I damn well let Nick down.”
“No,” Kyle said, firm and implacable. “You didn’t. Look me in the eye, Spencer, and hear what I’m saying. You know I wouldn’t bullshit you. I’m saying this because I absolutely believe it’s true. What happened to my brother was not. Your. Fault.”
The words hit like a blow to the solar plexus, and for a second, Spencer wasn’t sure how to draw in breath.
Scotty, a look of genuine concern on his face, slapped him hard on the back, jolting him into inhaling again. “Jesus, man, how long have you been carrying that?” he asked.
“Since it happened. I’m…not sure I’ll be able to let it go, even now,” Spencer admitted. “But it helps to hear that you guys don’t think I’m to blame.”
“Of course we don’t,” Scotty said, while Kyle and Gage nodded.
For a moment, they sat in silence, then Kyle cleared his throat, clearly ready to move the conversation along. “I got a call from Commander Brighton. He thinks we can use Williams’s deal to find Arrieta and Nick’s real killer.” He sniffed. “Not sure about that myself, but at least with Coran in custody, we’ve got one more piece of the puzzle solved.”
“Still can’t believe Williams was SHEEPSKIN,” Scotty said. “To think that geezer could create a secret network to track terror cells and that he was the one using Natalie’s stories as part of the scheme.”
“Looks can be deceiving.” Kyle scowled. “Just think about Natalie. We trusted her. Hell, Nick thought heaven and earth revolved around her, and then…” He cursed under his breath and took a long swig of beer before continuing. “Anyway, Williams is denying ordering the hit on Nick, but I’d bet a fortune he knows who did and why. Brighton said the FBI has kept the guy in twenty-four-hour lockdown with only closed-door interrogations since they brought him back to the States. According to the agents in charge, he’s hemorrhaging information about all kinds of stuff. Still claims what he did with the attack on that village makes him some kind of hero.”
“How are we going to find out what he knows?” Gage asked. “The Bureau isn’t really into sharing intel.”
“He’s right,” Hayley said. “They’ll have that information under the highest security clearance. I might be able to hack in, but it’ll take me a while.”
“Don’t bother,” Kyle said. “Brighton’s sending someone over with some new data. Someone on the inside, he said.”
“Really?” Spencer perked up a little. A tussle with some federal agents might be just the ticket to work off some of his tension. “Want me to handle them for you?”
The front door opened again, and Scotty glanced up. “Oh, man.”
“What?” Spencer turned and did his best not to gape. “Toni?”
Her dark eyes were unreadable as she walked up to their table, her gaze never leaving his. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Spencer said. Okay, not exactly genius-level conversation, but damn. His brain felt like pudding. He’d imagined seeing her again a million times, imagined what he’d say, what he’d do, what she’d be wearing.
Spencer looked her up and down—from the toes of her plain white sneakers, up her long, jeans-covered legs, over the purple T-shirt that clung to her luscious curves, and finally to her pretty face.
Nothing in his imagination could ever live up to the real thing.
