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His certainty soothed her, a little. “So where is he?”
“No idea. He’ll contact us soon,” Bridger insisted. “Just hang tight. Let us handle this. Meanwhile, we’ll take care of your preacher’s little problem. For Jay.”
No, she would not wait for these two to handle things. She’d continue doing her own digging. Jason had kept his military life completely secret, so she had no idea who to contact, but she could keep an eye on Bridger and Tai.
They might be trained agents, but she’d bet anything they’d never been up against a tight-knit town. The Creek’s gossip line could rival the CIA. She’d know what they ordered for lunch at the Red Dog Saloon before the cook did.
Finally, something to smile about. Thank the Lord for a home court advantage.
9
A few hours later,Bridger was still struggling through the journal they retrieved from Jason’s hangar. The man was as precise in his penmanship as he was with everything else he did, but trying to make sense of page after page of dense info—and the cryptic side notes Jay had left himself—made Bridger’s head hurt.
He set the journal aside, peeled back the covers, and climbed into the tidy motel bed. The Redemption Creek Inn might not have five stars—or even one—but the place was clean. Smelling of disinfectant wasn’t the worst crime. He’d spent the night in sketchier dwellings. Hellish places that still sucked at his soul.
At least the TV worked. He thanked his Savior for the small blessing. Tai loved his evening shows. It kept his mind from revving, which kept Bridger from having to field a million annoying—and annoyingly perceptive—questions.
Besides, the worn paint and tepid shower were more than compensated for by the stunning landscape and the friendly town.
And Jane Reilly.
He cupped his hands behind his head and grinned up at the ceiling. The woman sparked something in him he’d thought long dead. After his wife, Michelle bailed, he dove deeper into the world of black ops. Before he knew it, he was so far undercover he couldn’t even think about another wife. Or friends.
The rest of his team was the same way. Their only relationships for the five years they served together were with each other. By the end, they were tighter than family.
Until they weren’t.
Once they accepted the payoffs, they scattered. He and Tai stayed close, and they heard from Jason on occasion, but as for the other four, well, he didn’t blame them for moving on.
From the other bed, Tai groaned and pointed the remote at the TV, switching it off. “I can’t stand these shows. No operative would follow a suspect down a deserted dirt road without radioing in their position first.”
Bridger laughed. “Not unless they were trying to end up dead.”
“Which can’t happen because they have a whole series to get through. The heroes never die, no matter how lame they are.”
“How many times did we almost die, and we’re not lame.”
“You’re sure about that?” Tai prodded. “Because I think we skirt the edge.”
“Are you talking death or lameness?”
“Either. Both.”
“Copy that.”
A coyote howled in the distance, a low, mournful tone that quickly ascended to excited yips as other members of the pack joined in.
Tai eyed him. “Why didn’t you tell Jane about Jay’s email?”
“His issues are need-to-know.”
“I think the woman needs to know.”
“I don’t.”
Tai flopped onto his back. “It’s your funeral.”
“What’s that mean?”
