Chapter Twenty-Seven
THE HUNT
Two days later…
Six fucking locations.
“Six,” he muttered. “Who the hell needs six contingency sites?”
Whip kept his eyes on the rain-slick highway. “A billionaire running a trafficking network.”
“One would’ve been plenty.”
“Not if you expect some of them to get burned.”
Axel grunted.
“Charleston wasn’t hiding,” Whip continued. “He was building options. Cutter said Washington, Oregon, and California all had places waiting. If one fell, he moved to the next before anyone knew he’d left.”
Axel shook his head.
“Still an asshole.”
“No argument there.”
Two days earlier, they’d been sitting in a Seattle interrogation room, listening as Clay Cutter finally decided staying alive mattered more than staying loyal.
Everything after that had happened fast.
Boone took over from there.
Davis stayed in Seattle to coordinate the Washington warrants while California’s Marshals moved on the single address inside their district. Boone brought his own team home.
Axel shifted in his seat. “Soon as this is over, we’re going bed shopping.”
Whip glanced over. “Thinking about moving back into the spare room?”
“Hell no.” Axel barked a laugh. “That’s where my bag goes.”
“No trash bags.”
Axel groaned. “I’m never living that down, am I?”
“Not a chance.”
Boone’s voice crackled over the radio. “Washington’s clear. California’s clear. Nothing at any of the locations.”
Axel looked out through the rain. “Charleston planned ahead.”
“Yeah,” Whip said from behind the wheel. “He just didn’t plan on Cutter talking.”
Axel grunted. “Which means if he’s anywhere. He’s probably in Oregon.”
A beat passed.
“What’s wrong with my bed?” Whip asked.
Axel shrugged. “Nothing. I just figured a California king might fit us better.”
Whip smiled.
“Funny. I didn’t hear you complaining when you were wrapped around me.”
“It’s longer,” he insisted.
“It sure is.” Whip’s grin widened.
Damn it.
Axel adjusted in his seat and stared through the windshield.
“So… about Oktoberfest.”
Whip’s soft chuckle followed them into the Lakeview Sheriff’s Office parking lot.
The other vehicles rolled in beside them.
Knox climbed out of one SUV while Sheriff Mercer and Grant stepped out of another. Detective Foster slammed his door, already shaking his head before Boone reached him.
The jokes died the second Axel opened his door.
Rain hammered the parking lot as they crossed to the sheriff’s office.
The blast of warm air hit Axel the second he stepped inside, chasing away the damp cold that had settled into his jacket.
Boone didn’t slow down. “Office.”
They peeled off wet jackets as they followed him down the hall. Mercer grabbed the door, letting everyone funnel inside before closing it against the weather.
Boone’s office was crowded in seconds. Marshals shoulder to shoulder with deputies, Grant leaning against the wall, Foster claiming a corner near the whiteboard. Someone shoved a fresh pot of coffee onto the desk.
Boone waited until everyone had found a spot.
“All right.”
He nodded toward the county map Beth had pinned to the wall.
“The three Oregon locations Cutter gave us came up empty, but we haven’t searched the surrounding properties.”
Sheriff Mercer stepped closer to the map. “Like the Zuckerman place outside Fort Rock.”
“Exactly,” Boone said. “Old man Zuckerman passed away last year. His kids have all but abandoned the property.”
Whip tipped his head toward the map. “The barn backs up to one of the places we searched. It’d be a good place to hide.”
Boone nodded once. “Tomorrow, we start clearing every neighboring property on our list. Tonight, you’re staying at my place. It’s five minutes from Fort Rock.”
“What about Fierce?” Knox asked out of the blue.
“Who?” Grant asked.
Boone’s eyes settled on Knox, then shifted to Whip before landing on Axel.
“What am I missing?”
“Fierce showed up while I was looking for Whip,” Axel said. “You might want to call the Secretary of Defense.”
A muscle ticked in Boone’s jaw.
“I will.”
His voice had dropped into something dangerous.
“I want a four-man team. Whip. Axel. Knox. Grant.”
“Wait…what?” Knox frowned.
Boone reached into his desk drawer, pulled out a badge, and tossed it to Grant.
Grant caught it cleanly.
“The hell?” Knox blinked.
“Grant accepted my job offer,” Boone said.
Grant clipped the badge onto his belt.
Sheriff Mercer looked between his brother and Boone before asking, “Where do you need us?”
“Doing what you’ve always done best.” Boone looked around the room. “Keep combing the county. Talk to people. Lean on every contact you’ve got.”
He checked the room one last time.
“It’s too late to do anything tonight. Let’s get some rest.”
Whip caught Knox by the arm before another question could escape him and steered him toward the door Axel was already holding open.
Grant followed.
Jesus, fuck.
Boone owned a mansion. Axel knew his boss came from old money, but this?
Not even close.
He wandered through the house, taking in one room after another. Antiques. Modern. Rustic. Every room had its own personality.
He found Whip on the back patio beneath the stars. A full moon drifted between broken clouds, one of those rare October nights when the sky actually opened up.
Out here, the stars looked close enough to touch. Sharp like ice chips in the darkness.
The cold bit through his jacket, but Whip lifted his face like he didn’t mind it.
Fresh from the shower, Whip had left his blond hair loose. It brushed his shoulders and fell partway down his back. He usually wore it tied back. Axel liked it better this way.
“Hey.”
Whip looked up from the lounge chair and accepted the mug Axel held out.
“Boone said we could have a few drinks as long as we didn’t get drunk.”
A smile tugged at Whip’s mouth.
“I’ll take the coffee.”
“I figured.”
The silence settled comfortably between them, and Axel was content to leave it alone. Being quiet with Whip was one of their things.
“So…” Whip turned his head and gazed at him. “What’s your plan, Bain?”
“Plan?” He cocked his head, meeting Whip’s gaze.
“What do you want out of life?”
Life? Seriously? He locked his gaze with Whip’s. It took him exactly ten seconds to understand that this wasn’t about what he wanted out of life, but rather what he wanted for them.
“Well…” he began by lifting Whip’s hand and toying with his fingers. “I’ve been eyeballing that set of golf clubs on eBay.”
Whip snorted and laughed. “Ass.” He tried to pull his hand away.
“But… if you’re asking about us. Then I want…” he paused just a beat. “Everything.”
“What’s that look like?”
“A home, years, our job, you and me.” He frowned, trying to put it in words.
“Kids?”
“Well yeah, we aren’t getting any younger. But maybe we can start with a puppy at Christmas.”
Whip’s eyes lit up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. And ah…” he softly gripped Whip’s ring finger, “marriage.”
He hadn’t planned on bringing that up. Not tonight anyway.
Oh well, too late now.
And really?
He wasn’t one to mince words.
He never would be.
Whip had to know that about him by now.
“I want what I want.”
“Me too,” Whip agreed.
“So, after the dust settles, we’ll pick a date.”
“Axel?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m all in.”
“Me too.”
He dipped his head and took a kiss, tasting coffee, the cold wind, and Whip.
He couldn’t ask for more.