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His features contorted, and he rubbed a hand over his face and through his shaggy blond hair. “There’s this guy I know. He might be able to help. He was tight with Chris in the past.”
“What’s his name?”
“He goes by a nickname.”
“What is it?”
“Bullet.”
* * *
“Dean?” Jessica snapped her fingers in front of his face.
“Yeah, yeah,” he murmured, lost in thought as they sat in the car.
“Everything okay?” she asked, opening her door. “You worried about this meet?” She frowned when he didn’t reply. “If you have concerns, then you should talk to me about them.”
“No. I don’t have concerns. I think Gage Moore—Apex—is a straight shooter. He genuinely wants to help.”
“How did you come to that conclusion?”
“I led an eight-man squad as a Tier One operator for years, Jessica. A guy just knows.”
“Hmm, gut instinct—SEAL gut instinct. I think I can defer to you on this one.”
All the way over to Gage’s place, Dean couldn’t shake thoughts of O. Her explanation three days ago had been brutal. Learning the truth about why she’d gone to France, to that boarding school, had hit him hard. Back then, he would have moved heaven and earth for her. But she had been the wiser one and spurning him had been the right choice then. But yesterday, it seemed as if she was avoiding him.
He had realized his dream and so had she. They’d both achieved what they set out to do. Which left them where exactly?
He was in limbo now that he’d been offered this black ops team. He was already thinking Gage Moore would make an amazing mechanic, but the guy had the guts and the nose for investigation and action. Follow-through was everything in this business.
He was a Marine, so his instincts had already been honed. Dean liked his energy.
O knew nothing about his job offer because he wasn’t sure what to tell her at this point. He was doing this on a temporary basis, except he had to admit he was loving it so far. For two days men and women had converged on the building with a state-of-the-art security system. Harley Street Muscle was becoming a fortress—cameras, keypads for all the doors, alarms. The building was taking on the feeling of Fort Knox—unbreachable.
He felt alive again, juiced like he’d been when he was operating. Although nothing could replace his ties to the brotherhood and his former teammates, the possibility of missions, making a difference, and serving his country again was more than appealing.
But how would that sit with O? He would be based out of LA, but he’d be in a hush-hush, deeply dark, deeply secret organization.
How could he even talk about it if he wasn’t sure he was going to commit himself to it?
He’d had no idea that saving Neo and Chry would bring him back to LA, out of a job he loved but into one that he would have enjoyed immensely. And now this new job offer…was this what he really wanted?
He was sure O was what had been missing from his personal life. He was still working through all she had said, but with Jessica’s impatient expression as she leaned down to look at him through her open door, it was time to put that aside.
“I’m sure whatever is keeping you preoccupied doesn’t compare to the threat of military grade weapons and short-range missiles. Could we?” She closed the door. He sighed and exited the vehicle.
The building they had pulled up to was Logan Carter’s base of operations. The bottom floor housed his graphic arts business with an unmistakable colorful sign on the front door. He and Gage lived on the upper floors of the four-story building. They headed toward the back and a flight of stairs. At the top, Dean knocked.
Gage opened the door with his German shepherd at his side and nodded, then stepped aside as they entered the expansive kitchen with shiny stainless steel and brown and cream tones. He still looked a little worse for wear, but Dean knew about alcohol and how it calmed the combat demons—at least temporarily. He also knew it was a road that led to nowhere.
“Logan is in the living room.”
They followed Gage’s retreating back and the shepherd, past a shiny coffee rig. The aroma of fresh brewed coffee made his mouth water. Caffeine couldn’t hurt. When they entered the living room, Dean tensed, but not because of any visual danger. It was the man who turned toward them oozing confidence. He was dressed in faded denim and a shirt that had the wordFreedomstenciled on the front under a black leather biker’s jacket. He didn’t have the good, all-American looks of his roommate, but he possessed striking features, his hair almost blue-black in the light, his piercing blue eyes a standout in his deeply tanned face. The air of danger was there, along with a charisma Dean recognized.
Logan Carter sent Jessica an admiring look.
Logan was the kind of man who would have done well with the SEALs. He had that vibe, and Dean liked him on sight.
