Rowan arched a brow at the endearment, smiling at how he muttered under his breath. As if it had slipped out before he could crush it. Even Greer chuckled before Bodie gave her some kind of death glare, waving them over to the door. Bodie hopped in her Tahoe, Buck riding with Greer as they made the short drive to Raven’s Security headquarters.
Bodie disarmed his security system, then ushered them into his main office. The one he’d said was bug proof and blast proof — had some kind of film on the windows that prevented anyone from seeing inside. The body cam sat on his desk, a green light blinking on the front.
Bodie went to work on his keyboard, finally turning the monitor as he started the footage only to pause it. “Before we start, I’d like to video in Nick. Bring him up-to-speed on what happened — see if his agency can help.”
Rowan arched a brow. “Nick?”
“Nick Colter. The friend I mentioned at the station. He’s…”
Bodie glanced at Greer, his expression clearly asking Greer how much Bodie should divulge, which meant this Nick guy wasn’t from any ordinary agency.
Rowan groaned. “Shit, a look like that can only mean he’s CIA.”
Bodie held up his hands. “Greer’s known him for years, and he’s helped us out of some tough spots. No questions asked. Is hands down the only reason Dalton was rescued from that compound alive. The man’s solid.”
Rowan tamped down her initial hesitation. She’d only ever worked with the CIA once — a recovery assignment that had ended with her evidence being confiscated — the entire mission essentially erased. Not an experience she’d ever wanted to repeat. But looking at Bodie — the way he held his head high, seemed ready to throw down if anyone crossed this Nick guy…
He obviously respected the man. And if it helped put the people who’d killed Evan — likely killed her father — behind bars, she’d make whatever deals she needed. Work with whatever agency necessary.
She leaned against the desk. “I trust you. If you say this guy’s good, then, I’ll respect your opinion. I promised you I’d do whatever it took to bring these guys in. If that means dancing with the devil, then…” She waved at his cell. “Start the music.”
Chapter Eight
Rowan stood there as Bodie grabbed a tablet, scrolled through his contacts, then hit a number. The line went silent, just that wheel turning endlessly across the screen before a man’s face flashed on the surface. Tired. Battle worn with the kind of lines no amount of rest would ever lift.
He scrubbed a hand across his stubbled jaw, shaking his head as he placed his device on some kind of table, providing a larger view of his surroundings. What looked like an apartment, outlines of a kitchen in the background.
The guy smiled, and Rowan had to admit, beneath the mass of unruly brown hair, the shadows clouding his green eyes, the man was handsome. The kind she suspected made him popular with any conquest he set his eyes on.
The guy, Nick, shook his head. “Jesus, Page, it’s like you know the second I get back from a mission. Haven’t even had time to shower.”
Bodie frowned. “Christ, you look like shit. And it’s not the lack of a shower.” He leaned in closer. “Is that blood on your shoulder?”
Nick glanced at his right side. Sighed. “I caught a round outside my vest?—”
“You got shot? Again?” Greer surged to her feet. “What the hell, Nick. You swore you were done with field work, remember? All those loose ends you’d apparently already tied up.”
“I said mostly tied up, and you know, firsthand, how hard it is to leave once you’ve dragged yourself back in.” Nick grimaced as he kicked his feet up next to the screen. “Is that why you had Bodie call, Greer? To bust my balls? Don’t you get enough of that busting Chase’s? Because rumor has it, he was part of a freaking grudge match over in Lewis and Clark.” He grinned. “And yeah, I keep tabs. Got a text from my buddy in Portland PD as soon as I switched my damn phone on ten minutes ago.”
Greer sobered. “Chase and his buddies were only involved in the pickup. After the real damage was done. Which is exactly why we’re calling.”
“Sounds ominous.” Nick groaned as he shifted on his couch. “Hey, where’s Dalton, Wade, and Price? And who’s the brunette staring at me as if I’ve got two heads?”
“Dalton’s at Providence watching Wade’s ass despite me having a deputy outside the room. He told Bodie he’d be back with us tomorrow. But Evan’s…”
“Evan’s what, exactly?”
Greer glanced at Bodie, obviously wanting him to take over.
Bodie swallowed, looked as if he might puke, then pushed his shoulders down. “He was killed four days ago. IED.”
“What the…” Nick grabbed the phone, stood. “Start talking, Page, and don’t fucking stop until I know exactly what we’re facing.”
“First, introductions.” Bodie waved at Rowan. “This is Special Agent Rowan Scott with the National Park Service’s investigative branch. She happened to be onsite — pulled a damn Hail Mary out of her ass and saved ours. Rowan, Nick Colter. And for the record, buddy, she already guessed you were CIA.”
“Of course, she did.” He raked his fingers through his hair, flopping it all over the place. “NPS, huh? I guess I owe you for having my brothers’ backs. Though, with as tense as you are, how you’re clearly memorizing every tiny detail of this conversation, I highly doubt it was dumb luck you were out there. More likely hunting.”
He hadn’t asked, and she simply nodded. “Something like that. Bodie says you’re not the usual spook. Looks like he might be right. How long have you been with their National Clandestine branch?”
