This was important to him, Megan realized. His privacy, his anonymity. He lived in the far reaches of a distant county next to a depressed border town where he was smarter and sharper than the entire police force put together. She couldn’t help but wonder why he chose to live here, why he had become a soldier for hire, why he’d distanced himself from mainstream society.
“J. T Caruso. He’s a principal with Rogan-Caruso Protective Services, and a good friend of the family. He and my brother were Navy SEALs together. When I say this is off the books, it’s way off the books.”
Jack’s anger faded away. Not just because he had heard of Rogan-Caruso-and had taken a few assignments from Kane Rogan-but because Megan was sincerely contrite, flatly honest, and she didn’t back down. This was her job. He had to remember that. Her job was going to come first. It was helpful now, but later … later he would have to re-evaluate.
“I called in Lucky, one of my team members. He’s going to sit on Padre twenty-four/seven. Tim is coming down from San Antonio as well, and I even got Mike coming in. They’ll be here tonight. It’s probably a good thing, with Perez showing his true colors yesterday, and Hernandez sending his goons after me.”
He stepped closer to Megan. She had changed clothing, but he couldn’t tell much difference. Another blouse, another cami peaking out, tailored slacks. Low-heeled boots. He liked the shoulder holster she wore. Most female cops he knew wore their guns on their belt. Her hair was tied up in the back, like she’d had it yesterday when she burst into the jail cell to save him. He had no idea how she got that much hair to stay in place. He’d like to watch her put it up sometime. And take it down.
His eyes betrayed his thoughts. Megan flushed slightly, her red lips parted to reveal straight white teeth. Her green eyes darkened, then glanced almost demurely downward. She blinked, then looked at him, expertly hiding her reaction to his close proximity.
Before she could say anything snappy or formal, Jack touched her on the shoulder where the Taser darts had penetrated. “I noticed you were bruised last night. Does it still hurt?” Jack wanted to deck Perez for firing the damn Taser at Megan. Not just because she was a fed. Not just because she was a woman. But because she was …
No one. Blondie was no one to him, and he needed to remember that.
“Not much. Funny thing was, I’ve never been hit with a Taser before, and I swear, it hurt more than the time I was shot.”
“Shot? Where?” He’d seen a lot of her skin the night before. White, creamy, perfect. He hadn’t seen a bullet scar.
Her face changed, dramatically, from light to very, very dark. Bad memories. He recognized the transformation and wanted to know the circumstances of the shooting.
“Kidney,” she said quickly, her hand unconsciously moving to her lower right side. “But God gave us two just in case someone shoots you in the back, right?”
She was trying to lighten it up, but Jack saw that her mind was years in the past. He wanted to know who shot her and why. Was she on the job or not?
Padre came into the kitchen. “I saw a Ranger’s truck drive past as I was leaving the church. They were headed toward the police station.”
“That’s my cue,” Megan said. “I’ll find Hans and gather as much information as we can about Scout’s murder, and then come back here and talk about what you remember, Padre.”
Jack stole a glance at her. Did she even notice she’d adopted the nicknames of his friends? He didn’t think she did. She spoke smoothly. He actually liked it, she’d personalized the case, which meant, at least to Jack, that she cared about the people involved. Even Scout. A drunk, but a loyal soldier. A friend. Damn. Jack didn’t want to think about him being dead.
“Agent Elliott-” Padre began.
“Call me Megan, okay?”
“Can you find out about Scout’s body? I want to have a funeral and arrange for his body to be transported to Arlington.”
“Of course.”
Jack said in a rough voice, “He wanted to be cremated.”
“I remember,” Padre said.
“I’ll let them know,” Megan said. “There should be no reason you can’t have the body by the weekend.”
Hans drove Father Francis’s Jeep to the police station and parked next to the Ranger truck. He hadn’t said anything to her the entire ride, and Megan couldn’t help but worry that she’d overstepped her bounds last night or this morning or … when?
“Are we okay?” she asked when they stopped. She looked up at the sky. A dark blanket of clouds blocked out the sun, but still no rain since the brief downpour last night. A flash of lightning made Megan jump, and the responding thunder had her grabbing the dashboard.
“I should be asking that.”
“I’m fine.” She hated storms. She’d spent two months in New Orleans after Katrina. Her experience in Kosovo identifying the remains of the dead had been invaluable in Louisiana, and while she’d been good and much in demand at that distasteful job, it had been emotionally and physically devastating. Ever since, she dreaded storms, knowing that floods and levees breaking and high winds created not only property damage, but extensive human casualties.
“Meg?”
“I just need to know that we’re okay.”
“Of course we are.”
“You acted like I was a dumb rookie last night. What did I do wrong?”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t there-”
“But you assumed I did something wrong.” It hit her hard.
“No. That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what?”
Hans ran his hand through his thick head of salt-and-pepper hair. “I was scared to death. I care about you, Meg. Too much, I know. It’s more than a partnership.”
Meg’s stomach churned and her face burned. “Hans … I …”
He laughed, took her hands. “Oh, God, Meg, you should see your face.” He squeezed her hands and said, “I love you like a little sister. Hell, I’m almost old enough to be your father.”
“Hardly. You’d have been a very young dad.” But she smiled. “Okay. As long as we’re good.”
“I overstepped last night, and I’m sorry.”
“No apologies. I understand. I would have done the same if the situation was reversed.”
“I don’t know if I would have had the courage you showed last night.”
“Courage? I don’t know about that.” She’d been as scared for herself as she was angry at the sheriff as she was fearful that she’d have to use lethal force.
“Courage doesn’t mean you’re not scared.”
“I know,” she said firmly, though she wasn’t quite sure about that. “I’ve run the scene through my head a dozen times and I can’t see any other way to have done it.”
“Then you did it right. Besides, even if you did think of a better way, you can’t go Monday-morning quarter- backing your split-second decisions. You’re one of the best on your feet, Meg.”
She jumped when the thunder rolled again. “Let’s go in and talk to the Rangers.”
They got out of the Jeep and she added, “I called J. T. Caruso and asked him to quietly look into Jack and Father Francis. I don’t think there’s anything suspicious about them, but I need to cover all the bases.”
“I’ve already talked to Quantico about them.” Hans sounded contrite.
“You had to.”
“Jack’s brother Dillon is a good friend. I don’t like going behind anyone’s back.”
“Well, I didn’t. Jack overheard part of my conversation, so I told him exactly what I was doing.” She paused. “What do you think of Jerry Jefferson? Did you find him?”
“Working on it. I’m going off Father Francis’s knowledge that he’s in Afghanistan. I should know exactly where within the next couple hours.”
