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While she would love to invite him in, her brother was inside. That might be a tactical error considering who they had in common.
HIS.
WIFE.
Oh, and that Reaper was a ball buster.
“What do we have?” she asked, getting intel from a man she trusted with her life years ago.
Literally.
Reaper and she went way back.
How did they meet?
Well, he’d been her babysitter in Columbia and saved her bacon.
On top of that, Captain Lewis Faulker, codenamed Reaper, was a damn good Marine, and an even better Spider. He excelled at it.
Spiders got into tight places, were deadly, and hid in plain sight. The dark-haired man was good at what he did for a reason.
He’d survived Hell.
When he and the other Marines had finally been freed from the guerilla camp in Columbia, he was done being bait for crazies.
He opted to get out, and with his skills, he was offered a new gig.
In the CIA.
Honestly, she wasn’t shocked.
Lewis was a fine Marine and CIA spook.
Not everyone could live in that world, but he somehow managed to straddle that universe, and the military mess at the same time, working both things.
While the Major did her thing for years after that one mission that changed everything, he’d gotten reassigned.
Willingly.
No one liked torture in a prison camp by a bunch of guerillas who were either damn lucky to catch them or on El Gato’s payroll.
After getting home, and spending some time decompressing in DC, the military put him in charge of a new unit—one that was like the Snakes.
Oh, and he ran it like a…Marine.
Reaper was born, and he did things that other people might not find tolerable.
He followed orders.
He took lives.
He went and gathered intel to bring home to his country.
The man was a decorated Marine, and he was someone she would always call a friend.
He was good people.
Damn good people.
