Chapter 6 #2
Heather pushed two to-go cups across the counter along with a small paper bag. Doyle thanked her and a minute later, he was kissing Tara like a horny teenager before pushing her out the front door.
Doyle dropped into the bench across from Sterling, plopping his folder on the table. Seconds later, Heather slid the egg sandwich onto the table.
"Hey." Doyle picked up his coffee. "I ordered the same."
Sterling laughed and shook his head. "I see you haven't changed much."
"What? Tara?" Doyle shrugged and took a big gulp of his coffee. "She's a nice girl. Doesn't care that I'm not sticking around. Honestly, I think she's a little relieved I'm heading home in a week or so."
Sterling wasn't so sure about that. He knew Tara a little—knew her loud laugh and fast hands and the way she'd built a whole personality around not wanting the things that might force her to settle down and take a good look at where she came from.
He'd watched enough people run from something to recognize that what appeared to be confidence and a desire to be independent was really the fear of being utterly alone.
But that wasn't his to name out loud, and Tara was a grown woman.
Doyle, well, he was a lot of things, but he'd never once lied to a woman about what he was offering. That was the one truth Sterling knew about him. It didn't make him a good man. It just made him an honest dick.
Doyle set down his coffee and frowned. "Christ, you've got that look."
"What look?"
"The one that says you're either about to lecture me about Tara, or you've got something else you want to get off your chest. Either way, it's going to ruin my breakfast." He spread his hands. "So, let's just get it out of the way. Hit me."
Sterling picked up half his sandwich and took a healthy bite while he searched for the right words to deal with the situation.
He and Doyle had never been friends. They didn't contact each other after the JSOC missions were over, like Sterling and Nick Colter had. They didn't text. They didn't send invitations to retirement parties or barbeques. They didn't call for no reason.
The only thing that Doyle and Sterling ever did was share a drink together after a mission because when men almost died together, it was the proper etiquette.
And he liked Doyle in the way he liked the man who had his six in a dark alley when bullets came flying out of nowhere. He trusted Doyle even more, and that was what mattered.
But right now, Sterling didn't trust that Doyle was being honest. "I'm just going to say it because beating around the bush would be a disgrace to the things we saw and did together," Sterling said. "I don't believe for a second you're here on vacation."
"Excuse me?"
"A man like you doesn't roll into a town like this, where a man like me happens to be working, for no reason at all." Sterling tapped his temple. "So, tell me what's going on, and I expect you, of all people, to be honest."
Doyle leaned back against the bench. He turned his coffee cup a slow quarter-turn on the table. "I am on vacation." Doyle tipped his head. "But Calusa Cove wasn't random. You're right about that."
Sterling didn't know if he should be thrilled that he was right or freaking out. "I always knew the agency would send someone. I just never expected that someone would be you."
"The agency? As in the CIA?" Doyle tossed his head back and laughed. "You've got to be kidding me."
"Why else would you be here if they didn't send you?"
"I doubt the CIA would trust me with anything, but especially not you." Doyle leaned in, forearms on the table. "I need your help on a job."
"My turn to say, what the hell? And what kind of job? For who? And I'm still skeptical."
"I'm not surprised," Doyle said. "I work for a group called Meridian Tactical. We're a little different than the Aegis Network, but not much. We do risk mitigation, executive protection, and some consulting depending on the client and their needs."
"Never heard of them." Not entirely true. He knew the name and had heard of the owner. But, to Sterling's knowledge, the Aegis Network, hadn't ever worked with them.
"We're a small firm out of Charleston, and that's our only office. Not like Aegis. I hear you're branching out to the Pacific Northwest."
"We are. But stick to why you're here, what you want with me, and why you lied to me about knowing who I work for." Sterling broke off a piece of his sandwich. It wasn't unheard of for other security agencies to reach out and ask for help.
"I thought it best considering we were in public." Doyle shifted. "My client has recently become concerned about foreign security. But what's especially interesting is they have connections to an op we ran years ago."
"Do I even want to know who or what op?"
"You might not have heard of my client. I hadn't."
"Just tell me who." Sterling hated it when Doyle, or anyone for that matter, played this game.
"His name is Granger Frost. He's the chairman of Ashbourne Holdings, which is a shipping and logistics holding company.
Old freight financing, family money." Doyle's tone had shifted from relaxed with a twist of sarcasm to flat, emotionless mission planning timbre that reminded Sterling of his third-grade teacher. That man had hummed more than he spoke.
Sterling rolled the name around in his brain and pushed it against every op he ran with Doyle. "I don't recall the name."
Doyle turned the folder and opened it. The top sheet was a piece of paper on Meridian Tactical letterhead.
Written in bold letters at the top was: CONTRACT brIEF—PRINCIPAL PROTECTION & THREAT VERIFICATION.
Under that was Granger's name, his company, and under that was a request for a specialty subcontractor.
Specifically, Sterling Fox with the Aegis Network, Everglades Division.
Wonderful.
"Keep talking," Sterling said.
"Over the past six weeks, we've documented indicators that point to pre-operational targeting.
" Doyle tapped the paper. "A probe on his security system, both professional and residential.
He's been followed. We haven't been able to get a line on it.
There are some other things that have happened, and he's scared. "
"Sounds like he's done business with the wrong people, and when someone does that, bad shit happens.
" Sterling wanted to push the folder to the side.
He didn't want to be interested. The job sounded shady, and the Aegis network tried to stay away from getting tangled up with illegal stuff.
Unless it was for the general good, then they jumped in with both feet.
"I won't lie to you," Doyle said. "Years ago, Ashbourne Freight, a subsidiary of Ashbourne Holdings moved cargo through the Colombia-Panama-Miami corridor. They paid money to crime families to be able to do so."
"So, he's one of the ones who didn't get caught, and now he's laundering money here," Sterling said. "What the fuck are you trying to get me involved in?"