Chapter 14
Blaze tooknote of the black SUV in the parking lot when he arrived at One Shot the next morning. They weren’t open for another two hours, but someone was clearly raring to go. He slammed the door of his truck and strolled into the store portion of the range where their offices were located.
Ghost leaned against a counter filled with Glocks, legs crossed at the ankles, arms folded over his chest, pewter eyes giving nothing away as he stared—somewhat narrow-eyed in Blaze’s opinion—at the man and woman across from him. His sidearm was visible at his waist. His polo shirt featured the One Shot Tactical logo over his heart—gold on a navy background—same as Blaze’s did. The shirts had arrived day before yesterday, and they were all wearing them now.
The couple turned as Blaze walked in. He clocked the suits and the government look they sported—like being constipated and pissed off at the same time—and revised his opinion about potential clients. Even the SUV looked government issued, but the tags weren’t government. He’d have noticed if they were.
He was distracted this morning, but not so distracted he’d have missed a detail like that.
Having a pretty doctor fall asleep on his chest hadn’t been on his bingo card for last night, but it had happened. He’d spent an hour lying partially under her, waiting for her to wake up, but she hadn’t. He’d planned to carry her to the guest room, but instead he’d fallen asleep with a tiny woman sprawled across him and a dick that was more than a little bit aroused.
It was a nice change of pace from waking up sweating and shouting through a nightmare. Sex helped, but he never spent the night in a woman’s bed—or let her spend the night in his. Too fucking embarrassing to have to explain himself if the dreams started.
He hadn’t had any last night. He’d slept soundly, waking a few hours later when Emma stirred. She’d mumbled about having to pee then disappeared and didn’t return. He heard the bedroom door close and the lock twist. This morning, she’d rushed out the door with nothing more than a quick thanks. She’d had her suitcase and toiletry bag in hand, and he knew she wasn’t planning to return.
Or, hell, to acknowledge that anything had happened. He got that Emma Sutton had reason to avoid anything involving intimacy, but it bugged him anyway. She’d felt safe enough to relax with him. Were they going to pretend it hadn’t happened?
Then again, did it matter? He couldn’t get involved with her. The most he could do was hook up, but he didn’t think Emma was the hookup type after what’d happened to her. She would need to trust a man, get to know him, feel like they had something worth exploring.
He wasn’t that guy and couldn’t be because his first priority was the job.
No matter how much he wanted it to be otherwise.
The federal agents—because what else could they be—watched him. Ghost did too, but his expression telegraphed annoyance at their unexpected guests rather than wondering what the hell was going through Blaze’s mind.
Probably a good thing.
Blaze shrugged out of his jacket and slung it over the counter. “Morning.”
It was as cheery as he could manage after last night.
“Blaze, these are Special Agents Diana Corbin and Clay Ackerman with the FBI,” Ghost said on a drawl. “They’ve come to speak to us about Royal Shipping.”
Blaze tilted his head like an inquisitive puppy. “Royal Shipping? Aren’t they the private courier we were looking into for transferring licensed firearms to dealers in other states?”
“That’s the one,” Ghost said.
“Is there a problem with their service? Should we find another courier?”
Agent Corbin was a tall, leggy blonde with green eyes that gave nothing away. Her partner was her height, but rounder. He sported a wedding ring and a bit of a belly behind his suit jacket. Agent Corbin was the one who gave Blaze an icy stare before sliding it to Ghost.
“No problem,” she said smoothly. “We’re speaking to everyone who visited their facility on Tuesday.”
“Why Tuesday?” Ghost asked. Tuesday was the day Kane and Chance had gone inside, and early Wednesday was when the team had infiltrated and planted their equipment.
Agent Corbin’s cheeks reddened slightly, as if she’d given away information she hadn’t intended. “Not important, Mr. Bishop. Our records indicate that two of your employees?—”
“Partners,” Ghost interrupted.
Agent Corbin blinked. “Pardon me?”
“We’re partners. It was our dream to start our own business together back when we served in the military. And here we are, living the dream in Alabama.”
His grin was wide. Blaze was the only one who knew that it was dripping a fuck you so big it could blot out the sun.
“Fine,” the pretty agent said, sounding perturbed to be interrupted with what she no doubt considered unimportant details. “Two of your partners visited the facility Tuesday. We’d like to speak with them.”
Ghost shrugged. “Sure. I don’t know what they can tell you, though. We can’t mail handguns through the postal service. When we make a sale to someone in another state, we need a private courier who can transport the weapons to a dealer in that state. Kane and Chance were doing research.”
“I’m aware of it, Mr. Bishop. It’s a federal law.”
“Of course. And please, call me Alex.” He smiled at her, but Agent Corbin didn’t crack one in return.
“If we could speak to those employ—partners, Mr. Bishop?”
Ghost took his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen. “Chance, can you and Kane come to the office? Got a couple of federal agents here who’d like to talk to you.”
He put the phone on the counter. He still hadn’t uncrossed his ankles. He looked slightly less than harmless rather than what he really was. Neither agent had any idea the man they faced could kill them without breaking a sweat or knocking a hair out of place, or they’d be standing a few feet away and have their hands on their guns. Not that it would help in the slightest if Ghost wanted to kill them.
Blaze went over to the coffee pot, grabbed a mug from the cabinet, and poured himself a shot of caffeine. He hadn’t made coffee at home because he’d been dealing with a skittish woman. When she ran out of there like her hair was on fire, he’d wanted to get out too and stop thinking about how she’d felt pressed up against him half the night. He’d gone to Kiss My Grits, but that hadn’t worked out either since they were closed for a maintenance issue.
He took a sip of coffee and turned as Chance and Kane came in from outside. Ghost did the introductions, and Agent Corbin, who was clearly running the show, asked if there was someplace they could talk. Chance, Kane, and the two agents headed for one of the small meeting rooms.
Ghost arched an eyebrow as he shot Blaze a look. Blaze sidled over with his coffee and sipped. “Odd.”
“Fuck yes,” Ghost muttered. “We didn’t leave a trail.”
No, they hadn’t. Getting in and out of places, achieving their objectives, was as natural to them as breathing. They’d spent years training, years doing. While it wasn’t ideal to find two FBI agents in One Shot a couple of days after they’d broken into Royal Shipping, they’d handle it.
“Leak somewhere?”
“Possible. Our orders come from the president, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a problem. There are a lot of people who don’t like Marla Willis. I imagine there are quite a few in critical government agencies still smarting over her victory.”
“Always happens when a new president takes over.”
“It does, but we’ve got a lot of man babies out there who can’t stand the idea a woman is finally in charge. I wouldn’t be surprised if her problem is a lot closer to home than she realizes. The FBI director hasn’t always been on her side, and neither have several high-ranking congressmen or a couple of the joint chiefs.”
“She should have replaced the director.”
“Probably. But she didn’t. Wouldn’t be surprised if he has an informant in the West Wing.”
“Isn’t that what Ian Black is for?”
Ian Black, billionaire CEO of Black Defense International, former CIA agent, once disavowed but probably not really, was the sort of man people in power hired to take care of problems quietly and quickly.
“I’m sure he’s got his minions in the halls of government.”
He very likely did. Blaze had wondered at first why Black’s people weren’t the ones moving to Alabama, but it turned out that President Willis wanted HOT operators, not spies. Ian Black and company had other jobs to do.
Blaze took his coffee to his desk and sat down to go over invoices. Ghost went back to arranging Glocks and wiping down the glass cabinets. Seth and Ethan arrived a few minutes later.
“Whose black Yukon?” Ethan asked.
“Feds,” Blaze said. Ethan’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. “They’re in with Kane and Chance, talking about their visit to Royal Shipping.”
This time his brows arrowed down into a frown. Seth’s did too.
“Apparently they’re talking to everyone who visited the facility on Tuesday,” Blaze said, sipping his coffee. “They haven’t said why.”
The four of them exchanged a look. Nobody said anything. Ethan and Seth got coffee and went to do their tasks for the morning before the range opened. When the feds emerged a short while later, they stopped by the counter where Ghost was checking inventory on rifle scopes.
“Get what you need, agents?” he asked with a sunny smile.
Blaze would have laughed if he could have.
“For now,” Diana Corbin said. She took a card from her pocket and slid it across the counter. “If you think of anything that might help us with our inquiries, give one of us a call. We’ll be in touch.”
Ghost picked up the card and dropped it in a drawer behind the counter. “Thanks. A pleasure to meet you both. If you’d like to join the range, we offer a discount for military and government employees.”
Agent Corbin didn’t crack a smile. “Thank you, but we’re good,” she said before turning on her heel and marching to the door.
“Have a nice day,” Ghost called as the two agents walked out. Clay Ackerman acknowledged Ghost with a nod and said, “Thanks, you too.”
Diana Corbin didn’t stop her march into the parking lot.
“Don’t think she liked you, boss,” Chance drawled. He was standing in the doorway that led into the hall, arms folded across his chest, grinning.
Kane was there, too. He was also grinning. “I wouldn’t say she was all that friendly to us, but she was a lot nicer than she was to you. Maybe it’s not me that needs to worry about pissing off the hot babes.”
Ghost snorted. “Oh, you still need to worry, brother. What can I say, though? Agent Corbin likes a man she can boss around. Guess she could tell I’m not that type. What’d they want to know?”
“Nothing important. What time we visited, who we talked to, what we talked about. Did we get a tour of the facility? Did we see anything out of place? Bullshit questions.”
“Equipment’s still operational,” Ghost mused. “So they didn’t find the cameras or mics. Huh, wonder what they really want?”
“You gonna call Washington?” Blaze asked.
“Yeah, think so,” Ghost replied.
Blaze followed him into the office. “Uh, boss, need to tell you something.”
Ghost looked up with one dark eyebrow arched. “About what?”
Now why did he feel like he’d been called to the principal’s office?
He gave Ghost the rundown about Emma Sutton and her problem. Ghost’s gaze hardened while he talked. “She okay?”
“Seems to be. She’s scared, though. That’s why I suggested the cameras. And I asked Seth to check into it, see what he could find on Simon Marsh.”
Ghost nodded. “All right. Do what you have to do to make her safe. But careful how deep you get into this. We’ve got enough problems already.”
“Just trying to help the lady out.”
“I trust you to handle this, Blaze. What we’re doing here is too important to risk.”
“Got it, boss. You can count on me.”
Ghost was studying him. “What happened in Afghanistan… That wasn’t your fault. I hope you know that.”
Blaze’s insides tightened painfully. His throat squeezed shut. “It was my mission, my responsibility.”
Ghost pitched his voice low. “Shit goes sideways, Shadow. It was a clusterfuck of bad intel and bad decision-making. Not yours and not HOT’s. The CIA fucked that one up, and your team paid the price. Mendez tore ’em a new asshole over it, but that doesn’t bring back the men we lost. None of that is on you.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Ghost sighed. “You’re still gonna think you could have done something different. I know that. But maybe stop blaming yourself so much. You’re here because I trust you. Because I know you’re the right man for this job. So help Emma Sutton out. Take her to bed and screw her silly if you want. Just don’t let it go any deeper than that.”
“Heard and understood, sir.”