Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Dove didn't trust men who were too comfortable in someone else's kitchen.
Lach had his boots crossed at the ankle, chair tilted back like he owned the floor under it, and a glass of Trent’s good tequila, sweating rings onto the table.
In front of him, he’d spread out a couple of folders.
Nothing was written on the tabs. Nothing indicated what the pages inside held.
And neither man guarded them with their hands or their posture.
Easton sat straight up in his chair, forearms on the wood, fingers curled around his glass, but he’d yet to take a sip.
Dove trusted that even less. She never accepted alcohol if she wasn't going to at least take a gulp or two.
She honestly had no idea what to make of these two Wyoming ranchers.
However, despite the cowboy aesthetic, they both still screamed military, government types.
Granted, sometimes it was hard to beat that out of someone.
She still carried herself a certain way, but the Aegis Network was the kind of organization that needed—desired—her specific skill set.
She stood in the hallway. Watching. Assessing. Analyzing. Like she would if she were three hundred yards away and looking through a scope. They weren’t people. They were targets—things to be tracked until she needed to decide whether they were a threat.
She wasn’t sure which way it would go.
Her phone buzzed.
Sterling: Four brothers total. Easton runs Eagle Ridge Ranch. Other two are Holden—livestock commissioner—and Sutton, who runs a PI firm—all former military. Preliminary only, but these guys are legit. Photos, credentials, military background, what I could find, attached.
She quickly scanned what was necessary for verification, then crossed to where Trent leaned against the counter, sipping his beverage. It was like the three men were standing on a dirt road in the middle of an old town at noon, waiting for someone to take the first shot. She held up the screen.
He read it. He didn’t react one way or the other. Just took another sip of his drink.
She pocketed the phone, grabbed her glass off the counter, and dropped into the chair across from Easton. Trent stayed where he was, leaning against the sink with his tequila, watching the two men like he was plotting their demise.
She couldn’t blame him. She wasn’t so sure how she felt about their appearance. About their connection to her uncle. About any of this. But right now, she had a job to do, and that’s what she was gonna focus on. “Okay, gentleman. Shall we get down to business?”
“I want to start by thanking you both for hearing us out,” Lach said.
Trent set his glass down. “There's been a lot that's happened, and I'd really appreciate it if you two would get to the point."
Lach looked at his brother before flipping open one of the folders.
Easton leaned forward. "For the last couple of years, Slade was secretly trying to build a case against Dutton.”
“Why secretly?” Dove asked. “Does that mean he didn’t have the support of the marshals office?”
“He didn’t have anything concrete to go on,” Lach said.
“What was he trying to do?” Trent asked.
“To connect Dutton as the leak in your father’s protection detail twenty years ago." Easton stared at Trent. “He started this when he learned that Dutton was romantically linked to Courtney.”
“When was that?” Dove asked.
“About five years ago.” Lach flipped through some papers and pushed them toward Dove.
She took them between her fingers but didn’t look at them.
"Every door Slade opened he found something. But the biggest one was Courtney and her father’s money and how their names were buried six layers deep inside Sovereign Resources."
"We know all of that," Dove said.
Lach shuffled a few more papers around. "Sovereign Resources isn't just a mining company.
They launder evidence. Physical evidence—documents, materials, things that need to disappear permanently.
They do it for Courtney's clients, using the mining operation as cover.
Bring things in as equipment or supplies.
Process them in the shafts. Nothing comes out. "
Trent didn't respond immediately. His thumb moved against the side of his glass. “Again, we’ve figured this out. We also know they want my land. What do you have that we don't?”
"When Parrish's dead man's cache surfaced, it filled in gaps Slade hadn’t been able to close on his own.
" Lach pushed the thicker file across the table.
"The feds have kept most of it quiet, but Dutton and Courtney are running scared because Parrish helped them launder evidence. Helped them hide bodies. He was on their payroll.” He paused.
"Which means, they know the net is closing. "
"Panicked people do stupid things," Dove said.
"Dangerous things," Easton added.
Trent pushed off the counter and inched closer to the table. He tossed back a good gulp, before setting the glass down and lifting some of the papers off the table. “What are we missing that you’re not telling me?”
“The dead man’s cache is damaging to Courtney’s clients, but not to her. And certainly not to Dutton.” Lach rubbed the back of his neck. “But Slade, right before he was murdered, connected the dots. He told us he was about to collect all the proof he needed to nail Dutton and Courtney.”
“Are you sure?” Dove asked. “What is this proof, and where is it?” She reached for the file.
“It’s not in any of this.” Easton offered a weak smile. “We were in contact with Slade and told that he was going to meet with a source. He didn't give us details, just asked us to help with an asset. Unfortunately, we believe Slade was set up.”
"So, we're back to square one," Dove said.
"No." Lach shook his head. "The asset that Slade asked us to look after was the source. One that can tie things back to Jack's case."
“How?” Trent asked. “And is that the proof?”
“Slade separated it, but it's better if you hear everything from the person who can connect it back to the past,” Easton said.
Trent walked to the sink and braced both hands on the edge of it.
Head down, staring at the drain. “I mean no disrespect but I'm struggling with all of this.” His voice had gone quiet and that was somehow worse than the flat version.
"You show up at my home when everything is upside down, and I'm just supposed to believe this? "
"I'd question it, too." Lach stood. “You need to understand that as soon as Slade heard Sovereign Resources was headed to this town, he was willing to put his job, his freedom on the line to make this right.”
“What does that mean?” Fire rising in her belly, Dove flattened her hands on the table.
“Slade knew the past was about to repeat itself, and his source wasn’t about to let that happen,” Lach said. “They’ve been searching for answers to Jack’s case for twenty years. It haunted Slade. Consumed him. All he wanted was to bring down the people who’d silenced Jack.”
“When Sovereign Resources started filing for testing permits and asking for town hall meetings, that lit a bigger fire under Slade’s ass.” Easton pushed aside his glass. “But when Parrish's cache came to light, that added a ticking time bomb, and the clock is about to detonate.”
“You’re both still talking in circles, and it’s pissing me off,” Trent mumbled.
“Look, Slade isn’t innocent in some things from twenty years ago, but what he did, he did to protect Jack and his family,” Lach said.
“I’m about ready to toss you two out on your asses if you don’t start making sense.” Trent stared out the window.
"There's someone who wanted the chance to tell you part of this, themselves. Figured you had the right to hear it from them directly instead of reading it in a report or catching it on the morning news—and that’s gonna happen whether we want it to or not.” Easton stood and made his way across the room and stood next to Trent.
"That person is outside. Near the dock. Waiting for you.”
The refrigerator hummed. Somewhere out in the moat, Dolly rolled through the water, her tail cutting a slow arc across the surface.
Dove watched Trent. The knuckles of his hands had gone white against the sink.
"This property is surrounded," she said to Lach. "Every entry point. My team has had eyes on you since you drove through the gate."
Easton turned and smiled. “We figured as much.”
“Smart move. Slade would be proud.” Lach picked up his glass. "Take Dove. Take half her team if you want. Point all the guns. Do what you have to do except shoot the man. All we ask is that you listen." He set the glass back down.
Trent didn't move for a long moment. Dove pushed back her chair, crossed the kitchen, and put her hand flat against his back. She felt the tension in him—coiled, barely-held in check—and didn't say a word. He straightened. Turned. His eyes met her gaze. “Grab your Glock.”
She didn’t need to be told that twice. Snagging her weapon, she followed Trent out the side door and over the bridge, nearly stumbling when a sudden realization crystalized in her mind. The prehistoric creatures thrashing about below were her friends. Her comrades. Her backup.