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Pressing her fist against her mouth did nothing to quiet her laughter. “It’s genius if you ask me. Is that what happened with Monique, too?”
“Absolutely,” he said, laughing. “I’m not as dumb as people think. It worked so well with her brother, I figured why ruin a good thing?”
“Huh,” she mused. “Why didn’t I ever think of that?”
“Probably because you know what would happen if you ever tried to deceive me.”
Startling at the soft rasp of Sebastian’s voice, she whirled in her chair. Shame crept across her face and she offered a guilty smile. Winking, he stroked his thumb over her cheek.
“Hey, Baas. I never heard you come back out.”
“Obviously.”
Josh grinned and shrugged. “You can’t blame me for trying.”
“Funny,” Sebastian said, tracing the shell of Taylor’s ear. “This one tried the same argument once. It didn’t work for her either and she has considerably more charm than you do.”
Taylor held her breath, wishing she were brave enough to turn back around and steal a glance at his face. Josh looked relaxed but he didn’t say anything as he stared over her shoulder.
“Don’t encourage her mischievous side.”
“I didn’t see the harm, Baas. It’s just us.”
“Until it’s not and she slips up. You know just as well as I do how devastating a single misstep for them can be.”
The rebuke was soft but she watched it smack Josh like a ton of bricks. Emotions flashed across his face faster than she could name them. He gave a curt nod, but Taylor didn’t miss the forceful bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.
“You’re right, Baas. I’m sorry.”
Monique chose that moment to step out of the house with a bag of leftovers. Taylor watched the blonde’s wide gaze leap between her brother and Josh, obviously sensing the slight tension between them. Thinking about what she must have went through at Marx’s hands made Taylor’s stomach churn.
Sebastian turned to accept the food and brushed his sister's cheek with a gentle kiss. “Thank you for your hospitality, Monique. Everything was perfect as always.”
Mo’s smile lit up the patio at the praise. Taking Sebastian’s cue, Taylor stood and enveloped the stunning woman in a hug.
“Thank you for everything. I had a blast today.”
“Oh, me too! Thank you both for coming. I’ll call you about lunch.”
“I can’t wait.”
Josh stood and walked them around front of the house. Taylor hoped the slap Sebastian gave his partner’s back meant all was forgiven. She smiled as Sebby tucked her close against his side on the way to the Mercedes. Peeking up at him, she noticed his gaze wasn’t on her but busy scanning the tree lined drive. His conversation with Josh popped back to mind. He’d said it didn’t feel like SKALS. What did that mean? And if it wasn’t SKALS…who was it?
Frowning, Sebastian studied the files in front of him. They were no closer to finding Patrick James than they had been weeks ago. For all intents and purposes, the man was a ghost. No credit, no banking or social security activity, no recent facial recognition hits. Somehow, the man had fallen completely off the grid. Pinching his lips, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing in thought. With all of the surveillance and technology available in this day and age, there were only two ways a man could disappear for good. Either their dear friend had shacked up in a cave and was living off the land somewhere or Patrick James was dead.
“Man, we have to find something,” Wes exclaimed. His broad hands shook as he ran them over the thinning brown hair on his head. “I am not going back in a reconditioning cell again. I can’t.”
“Relax,” Sebastian ordered flatly. “You will do as you’re told or things will get much worse.”
“Baas, I can’t. I can’t go back in there. You don’t know what it was like in there last time. You don’t know what they did.”
Wesley’s glasses magnified the terrified flare of his brown eyes, lending him an owl-like appearance. His chest heaved and small beads of sweat erupted along his ruddy skin. Nodding, Sebastian tented his fingers beneath his chin and watched the normally strong man border on the edge of hyperventilation.
“I assure you my last stay was no vacation either. We go through these things and we learn from them. I suggest you move on.”
“I know, sir. I’m sorry. I wasn’t complaining. I just--”
Lifting a hand, Sebastian silenced the man and stood. “I would choose your next words very carefully if I were you. I don’t know why you feel comfortable enough to express these opinions in my presence, but I find this outlook deeply unsettling.”
Wesley’s wide throat strained with his swallow. “Understood, sir. It won’t happen again.”
Sebastian studied him for a long moment, searching for signs of deception. The lowered head suggested he was trying to shield something. Then again, it could be shame or fear brought on by the gentle reprimand. Frowning, he wondered if Vincent had said something about their conversations or his current outlook towards Marx. The thought troubled him more than he cared to admit. Sighing, he poured a tumbler of whiskey and held it out in offering.
“Drink this,” he ordered before returning to the other side of his desk. His gaze bore into Wes as the man shakily downed his drink. “I understand that things are difficult lately, but I need you to pull yourself together and hold on. This organization needs men who can function without falling apart. I have lost enough of my team as it is.”
Wes nodded. His attention remained rooted on the beveled glass in his hands. “I know, sir. It’s just…” he trailed off with a frustrated shake of his head.
“Speak freely.”
“I know that reconditioning serves its purpose. I’ve never liked it, but I’ve always understood. This time, I wasn’t even sure if I was going to make it out alive. To be completely honest, I still don’t understand why I was there. We were doing our damn jobs. What else did Marx want?”
Sebastian rubbed the dark golden stubble dotting his chin. “It’s not up to us to question his reasons.”
“I know that, Baas.”
He nodded. “That said, I will agree the discipline was intense.”
“I just get the feeling that things are changing, sir. And I…”
“Continue.”
“I’m not sure where SKALS is headed. As fucked up as our methods might be, I’ve always felt a certain sense of pride and accomplishment knowing, in the end, we were doing the right thing. We put down low life scum. We take them out before they can hurt innocent people. But right now? Right now, I don’t have the slightest idea what we are doing or where this might lead.”
Hands braced against his desk, he pondered those claims carefully. Part of him felt responsible for his teammate’s conflict. From the beginning, he’d taught his men to think as he would, to search the fields and perimeters outside of the box. It seemed those efforts had served him well. Still, the man’s current mental state lent him serious pause. The last thing he needed was for Wes to cave. History had proven hysteria was a catching disease.
“It’s been suggested Patrick James sold valuable security information and turned on his country. I would say that is reason enough to go after the man.”
“Sir, with all due respect, we have no proof in these allegations.”
“Yet,” Sebastian stated quietly. “Go home. Take another day or two off. Jackson is eager to learn. He can pick up your slack. I need you to come back to me with a clear head.”
“I don’t know that I can. I can’t even sleep.”
Sebastian rounded his desk and stared down at the man. Even his uniform was disheveled and askew on his semi-portly frame. That alone was enough to land him in a cell for another two days. Reaching down, he straightened one shoulder seam as best he could.
“Have I ever lead you astray, Wesley?”
“No, sir,” he said, giving an adamant shake of his head. “Never.”
