guy out of my head, you know? Ran across a story about him and this extremist survivalist group, and a lightbulb went on. There was no question in my mind that Brewster and Lawson had been in some unholy alliance in Afghanistan. And no question that someone needed to find out what really happened that night.”
“So you picked Eva.”
“And I stand by my decision. She was the right choice. She had a vested interest. And a reputation for having a cool head. I knew that if she was anything like her father, she’d work through it the right way.”
“So you gave it to her anonymously and your conscience was cleared. Nice, neat, and tidy for you. Deadly for her.”
“Do you think I saw things coming down this way?”
“I think you should have.”
Davis nodded slowly. “Probably. Wasn’t the first mistake I’ve made. And next to sitting on the file for eight years, it’s the one I regret the most.”
38
“This is legit?” Mike frowned at Gabe, then darted a quick glance at Taggart and Cooper to check their reactions to the offer Gabe had just laid on the table.
He saw surprise, followed by keen interest, followed by skepticism. The same things he felt.
Gabe tipped up his beer, then, squinting against the charcoal smoke, went to work flipping the steaks. “It’s legit.” He glanced over his shoulder and chuckled at their slack-jawed expressions. “You guys need some privacy to talk it over?”
“What I need is another beer.” Looking like he’d been hit with a stun gun, Taggart walked over to the cooler.
“Based out of Langley?” Cooper considered Gabe through deeply veed brows.
“Yup.”
“Complete autonomy?” Mike wanted to make certain he’d heard him right.
“
Mike looked at Taggart’s beer with envy. He missed the taste of it sometimes. Not as much as he missed the benefits of a clear head, though. He needed all of his brain cells functioning right now. One of the reasons why was inside the Joneses’ apartment with Gabe’s wife, Jenna, who’d returned from Florida yesterday.
Eva had been too quiet since their meeting with Peter Davis yesterday afternoon. He didn’t know what was going on in her head. Didn’t know where they went from here. It was driving him a little crazy.
Then there’d been the conference call from the Secretary of Defense himself in Gabe’s office yesterday afternoon. A formal apology to all three of them. Notification that the paperwork was already in the tube for revocation of their less than honorable discharges, and full reinstatement of their honorable service status. Recommendations for Purple Hearts and silver stars for gallantry in action.
He was still processing his reaction to the accolades and the call. Still deciding if he was pissed or proud. If he felt redeemed or played. Eight years. A big chunk of his life, gone. It was also a long time to be angry. On that, all three agreed. Just as they agreed it would take more than a day to shed the resentment and get on with their lives.
They’d talked way into the night, just he and Taggart and Cooper. Talked about the call. Talked about what they’d pulled off at Squaw Valley. Straight-up honest talk about time they’d lost. About the lives they’d been living. About the would have beens and should have beens, and finally about the futility of looking back.
And now… this very
“Just for clarity, shoot it by me one more time,” Mike said. “I want to make certain I didn’t doze off there for a minute and dream half of what you said. And don’t burn that steak. That one’s mine.”
“You let me worry about the meat. You just think about this. Short and sweet, DOD is looking to beef up their nontraditional covert-ops units. BOI was the first one brought on board. Sec Def likes our results. Now he wants the three of you to join the mix—a companion unit. Get away from me with that garlic salt,” he warned when Cooper moved in with the shaker.
“Bottom line,” Gabe continued, “you’d be signing on to fight the bad guys. Sanctioned by DOD, but you’ll run your ops on your terms. Not by committee.”
Mike scratched his jaw. “All because we got screwed over eight years ago?”
“No. Because of what the One-Eyed Jacks accomplished. Because you were damn good at what you did. Because you still are. And because we need more good men like you.”
“What do you think they’re talking about out there?” Jenna asked.
Eva glanced at the woman she’d decided was not only the queen of the multitaskers, but someone she wanted to get to know better. Just back from West Palm Beach and wearing a body-hugging, neon pink tank top and black biker shorts, Jenna balanced little Ali on her hip and stirred a gorgonzola sauce that would garnish the steaks Gabe was grilling outside on the terrace. “Best guess? Boobs, beer, and bullshit.”
Jenna laughed. “I can see why Gabe likes you.”
“I like him, too,” Eva conceded. Gabe was one of the good ones.
“How did the apartment hunting go today?”
“Not great,” Eva admitted as she sliced Roma tomatoes and tossed them into a mixed-green salad. She’d loved her old apartment, but it would be weeks, possibly months before the fire damage would be repaired, and she didn’t think she wanted to return there anyway. She would think about Brewster every time she let herself inside. “But I’m sure I’ll find something.”
Eva had liked Jenna the moment she’d met her yesterday, after the sit-down she and Mike had with Peter Davis. The pretty redhead was a straight shooter, warm and friendly, and held her own in the company of tough men who had a tendency to want to protect their women.
“So—how big does this apartment need to be?”
Eva glanced at Jenna sideways. Okay. Maybe she wasn’t such a straight shooter after all. “Did you mean to ask me if Mike’s moving in?”
Jenna got a guilty look on her face. “Well, I was trying not to, but obviously I should stick to what I know since I bungled that big-time.”
Eva smiled. “It’s okay. And honestly, I don’t know how big it needs to be.”
“Because you don’t know if you want him to move in? Or because you don’t know if he wants to?”
She glanced toward the terrace where the men were all standing around the grill, most likely offering Gabe unwanted advice on the best way to charcoal a steak. “A little of both, I guess.”
Jenna kissed Ali on the cheek, then set her down on the floor with two wooden spoons and a pie tin. Grinning widely at her mother, the toddler started beating on the tin with gusto.
“Since I’ve pretty much walked in those same shoes,” Jenna said, smiling down at her little daughter, “the best advice I can give you is go with your heart. Advice you can feel free to ignore, by the way. I’m not usually this interfering. Can we blame it on hormones?”
Again Eva smiled. “It’s okay. Frankly, it’s nice to be able to talk to someone about it.” Someone other than Mike… who hadn’t been doing a lot of talking since they’d gotten back to D.C.
“I like Mike,” Jenna said decisively, as if she were talking about fruit or a soft drink. “Do you like Mike?”
That one threw her. “Is that a trick question?”
Jenna laughed. “No… it’s just… these guys are so intense, you know? And so
Eva glanced out the terrace door again and stared at Mike—at that stunning cosmic union of muscle and bone and brain and brawn. At that beautiful man who had been so broken, who would always be a little broken,
