Chapter 13
Sunday afternoon, just as Jane hugged Malcolm and watched him walk through airport security, she felt her phone buzz in her pocket.
A glance showed a message from an unidentified caller. Look to your left.
She did and spotted a familiar figure bearing down on her.
Tall and muscular with a commanding presence that had people instinctively moving aside for him, Chris North descended on Jane like the plague—all-encompassing and impossible to avoid.
A grin lit up his dark eyes, and despite his short, salt-and-pepper hair, he looked years younger than the five-plus decades he’d spent raising hell in all manner of places.
“My favorite niece. Thanks for coming to get me.”
And no, neither Raine nor Malcolm had mentioned that Jane would be picking up her uncle from the airport. In all likelihood, the pair had probably colluded to get her to handle the old man.
But she couldn’t say she minded, having missed him so much. The sight of his grin made her warm inside, the remembrance of a youth spent safe and happy, playing pretend war and hide and seek. He’d taught her the basics of decency and morality while giving her a gift beyond survival.
He loved her unconditionally.
So when he stepped closer, she rushed to him and leaped into his arms.
“Uncle Chris. What a terrific surprise!” She kissed his cheek and did her best not to grimace when he squeezed a little hard. Letting him see any hint of pain was like teasing a rabid wolf with the scent of blood.
“What’s wrong?” He immediately set her down and looked her over. Then he glared at her abdomen. “Ribs still bothering you?”
She didn’t think she’d given away anything in her expression. And she’d contained a groan. Yet he always knew.
Reading her mind, he smirked. “I have my ways. I know everything.”
“And you have Malcolm and Sven on speed dial.”
“Hell, I have all of Team Ten on speed dial.”
She grinned. “I did miss you, even if you are a pain.”
His tanned face creased in a smile. “Same.” He hugged her under one arm, the other holding a small pack over his shoulder, and made the long walk with her toward the parking garage. “I’m glad to be back on U.S. soil, I can tell you that.”
“Nice.” She studied him, not seeing any new scars, thank goodness. “Where’ve you been this time?”
“Been having fun down south in Venezuela. Got a heck of a tan.”
“I noticed.”
“But after this break, I’m heading out with the boys for a while. I need the vacation.”
She huffed. “Vacation. Right.”
He laughed and teased her about being a government narc until they finally found the car.
They left the airport, chatting about nothing in particular.
The weather, the vagaries of their jobs, about the guys being idiots as usual and getting themselves into the kind of trouble that Sven typically talked them out of.
“And Smith.” Her uncle smiled. “He’s been a joy to be around lately.
I’m not sure how he did it, but our fixer is housing us in a mansion while we work the next gig.
I think it belongs—er, belonged—to a drug runner who owes Smith a few favors.
But I don’t like to ask questions. Our boy is skilled, no doubt. ”
“And no longer in jail? Nice.”
Smith—his first or last name, no one had ever confirmed—only went by that one name.
The guy could get anything anyone needed at any time.
In the middle of a desert and wanting an air-conditioned space to get out of the heat?
Smith could find it for you. Stuck in a war-torn area without modern conveniences and hostile natives?
Smith could find you a karaoke machine and disco ball and turn an entire village into one dance-happy rave.
Uncle Chris shook his head. “He was only in jail to talk to an inmate he needed something from. Not that bars can hold Smith back.”
“I don’t think anything can.”
“He wanted to come for a visit, but we need him to help us plan for our next big adventure.”
“Malcolm mentioned some work in Africa.”
“Yep. We’ll be there for a good three to four months. I just hope I can keep Min and Shawn from killing each other.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “The boys need some down time. Maybe a little break back home…” The calculating look he shot her had her skin crawling.
“Oh no. You can’t send those two back here together. They’re a wrecking crew!”
“That’s not nice.”
“It’s true though,” she grumbled. Smith was a handful, but Shawn and Minjun were volatile mercenaries who shot first and asked questions never, not later. “You normally pair our crazies with our calmer guys.”
“Yeah, but things are getting hairy. And speaking of, I hear you’ve been getting some action with the FBI lately.
” He smiled, a proud parent. “Your capture of the Code Blue Killer was exceptional. Lionel told me all the gritty details you failed to mention. But the Red Ribbon Killer.” Uncle Chris frowned. “You cut that one a little close.”
“Malcolm has a big mouth.”
“He does indeed, but it was actually Sven who filled me in.”
“I had it covered.”
Uncle Chris’s frown reversed into a smile. “I know. Sven told me he found your killer all tied up and you passed out nearby, out of reach. Nice job.”
“Thanks.”
“But maybe next time take out the perp before you lose consciousness.”
“I don’t take out people. And I was drugged.”
“That’s no excuse.”
She gritted her teeth. Raine really owed her for picking up their uncle.
“Now, what’s this about a date with Matthew Scott?”
She swore, ignored his laughter, and pressed harder on the accelerator despite not knowing where her uncle wanted to go.
“It’s not a date.”
“That’s not what I heard. Oh, and take me to the ferry.”
“Fine.”
They drove in silence for a few moments before he took pity on her and teasingly said, “I’m told you get this exact look on your face whenever anyone mentions your ex-boss. I’m sorry. I had to see it for myself.”
She managed a grunt, which made him laugh.
“The guys are so going to get it when I see them again.”
“Actually, I heard glowing reports on Matthew Scott, so you have my blessing.”
She said, “I don’t need it” at the same time he said, “Not that you need it.”
Jane blew out a breath, trying to keep her cool. “First, I’m told to get a social life. And when I do, I’m given the third degree. I’m thirty-one, Uncle Chris.”
“And such a pretty thirty-one.”
She gave him the evil eye, which had him grinning so hard she feared he’d lock his jaw.
“You just like to screw with me, don’t you?”
“I admit I do.” He studied her. “You look good. On another hunt, I hear.”
“Yeah. And this one’s got deep roots in something broader. I can feel it.”
“Tell me.”
She did, and as she pulled up to the ferry terminal, her uncle gave her a warning she heard on more than one level.
“Do me a favor, be careful. Whatever you find, let me know. If for some reason you can’t find me, give Lionel a call.”
“Lionel Gambol?”
He nodded, his expression grim. “I deal with danger overseas all the time. I know what it feels like. What it tastes like. And this mess you’re tangling in, it’s got that same bitter tang.” He studied her. “You feel it, too, don’t you?”
She nodded. “It’s connected somehow to the task force I worked for Lionel. I think he knows or suspects it.”
“I think I’ll visit my old friend while I’m home.”
“What a nice gesture.”
This time the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Lionel and I have some catching up to do.”
“Just don’t kill him. Or at least don’t leave the body where it can easily be found.”
He chuckled. “You know me better than that.”
As she watched him walk out and up the steps to the terminal, she wondered why he’d really come back to visit. And why she thought his discussion with Lionel might not be so friendly after all.