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“I wanted to be an archeologist when I was young. Finding lost temples and fabulous treasures.”
Boone snorted. “I think that usually only happens in the movies.”
“Well, Dad steered me away from studying history.”
Boone frowned. He was starting to think he didn’t like Paul Newhouse very much.
Finally, he neared the address Vander had given him in the lower downtown area of Denver. LoDo had a lot of renovated historic warehouses and was home to Union Station and the baseball stadium.
He turned into a narrow alley and then stopped. He cut the lights. “This is the place.”
“Now what?” she asked.
“Someone’s going to meet us.” As he got out, he glanced around and didn’t see any CCTV cameras. He helped Gemma out of the truck.
A man emerged from the shadows. He was tall and fit, wearing tan cargo pants and a black Henley.
Boone tensed, ready to go for his Glock.
“Hendrix?”
Boone nodded. “Call me Boone. You’re Declan Ward?”
“Yeah.” The man walked closer and held out a hand. They shook.
Boone could have picked the guy as a former Navy SEAL in a heartbeat, even if Vander hadn’t already told him. “This is Gemma.”
Declan nodded. “Heard you’ve had a rough few days.”
Gemma pulled a face. “That’s the understatement of the year.”
Declan’s lips twitched. “I’ve had a few days like that myself. Come on.” He paused as Atlas leaped out of the truck. “Who is this?”
“My dog, Atlas.”
“He’s a good-looking dog.” Declan met Boone’s gaze. “And looks well-trained.”
“He is, but he’s retired, so he isn’t above begging for food or back scratches.”
Declan chuckled. “Grab anything you need. I’ll have one of my team take care of your truck.”
“The people after Gemma will be looking for us, and they’ve proved to be damn good at tracking us down. They clearly have resources.”
The other man nodded. “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of it, and my tech whiz has been scrubbing security feed of you driving into LoDo. These guys won’t be able to find you.”
“Thank you,” Gemma said quietly.
They followed Declan onto the street and walked one block over. Boone noted the path the man took avoided any cameras. He led them to a building that looked like it had once been an old factory, but now had lots of big windows that no doubt gave a good view of the city and mountains in the daytime.
Declan held the door open for them. Inside, Atlas’ claws clicked on the concrete floor. They passed an empty reception desk and stepped into a cavernous space. There was a conference table closest to them, some couches grouped around a large coffee table. By the bank of large windows sat a pool table and an air hockey table. Flat screens covered the far brick wall—most were dark at the moment, but a few were still filled with information. Desks sat in front of the screens, all covered in high-end computers.
A man who looked similar in build and looks to Declan leaned against one desk, a little girl with pigtails in his arms. There were two women with him. A tall woman with dark, curly hair stood close to his side, tickling the little girl. The other woman sat in a chair at a computer, her dark hair in a sleek cut that brushed her jaw line. She was busy tapping on the keyboard.
The man looked up as they approached.
“Guys,” Declan said. “This is Boone and Gemma. Oh, and this is Atlas.” He waved at the dog.
The man did a chin lift. “I’m Cal Ward.”
