The screen flickered,pixelated, then resolved into a face Sarah recognized from her dive into Griff’s background.
Ronan Quinn. The team leader Griff had described—dark-haired, sharp-featured, with eyes that probably missed nothing. Even through the computer screen, he radiated command presence. Behind him, Sarah could see a home office. Ronan’s new wife, Maya appeared in frame, elegant and lethal in equal measure, her hand finding Ronan's shoulder.
The silence stretched for heartbeats.
Ronan broke first. He made a face, leaning closer to the camera. "What happened? You look like hammered garbage."
Griff waved off the question. “Long story.”
That earned him a dazzling grin. “I bet.”
From their photos, Sarah already knew Griff’s teammates were every bit as good-looking as he was. Tens. All of them. Was there something in the Hope Landing water? If so, Sarah wanted gallons of it.
Griff rocked back on his heels, crossing his arms over hisimpressive chest. “You look pretty good for someone Maya lets dress himself."
A ghost of a smile crossed Ronan's face, but it faded quickly. “So are you coming home, or what?”
Griff toed the rich carpet. Sarah fisted her hands, resisting the urge to jump into the conversation. These were his people.
“We need to talk,” Griff said. “I’ve got a line on Tank’s killers. On Stillwater. Maybe even Sentinel.”
Ronan held up a hand. "Let’s pull in the others," he said, fingers flying across his keyboard.
Within seconds, the screen split into multiple windows. Axel Reinhardt appeared first, clearly mid-workout—built like a Viking with sweat still gleaming on his close-cropped hair. Then Deke Williams, massive and kind-eyed, sitting in what looked like a church office with a cross visible on the wall behind him.
"Ghost?" Deke's voice was barely a whisper. "Brother, is that really you?"
More windows opened. Izzy Reyes materialized looking furious, short platinum-spiked hair disheveled. Kenji joined from what appeared to be a kitchen, flour dusting his shirt. Zara and Finn appeared in the same frame—they must have been together, both looking shocked.
"And you are?" Axel teased Griff, but there was no humor in his voice.
Griff flinched. "I'm sorry."
The bigger man shrugged and grinned softly. “I know.” Then his eyes widened. “Dude. What happened to your face?”
Griff opened his mouth, but Deke spoke first.
"Sorry?" Deke's quiet voice carried more weight than Izzy's anger. "Brother, we pray for you every night. Every. Night."
"You know I was onto Tank’s killers. Couldn’t risk bringing them down on you. Not yet," Griff said.
Deke glared. “Not your call, bro.”
“Maybe not. Happy to debate that later.” The big man scratched the top of his head and squinted at the camera. “Seriously.” He swirled a large finger in front of the lens. “What happened there? Looks painful.”
Izzy winked. “I know. Right? Can’t wait for this tale.”
Griff rolled his eyes. "Guys. Focus. I ran into someone else doing the same thing. Different angle."
She inched forward, wondering what these warriors would think of a desk pilot dressed in Fifth Avenue loungewear.
Griff pointed between her and the screen. "Team, Sarah Winters. Sarah, my team."
She leaned into view, very aware of multiple sets of highly trained eyes assessing her. She waved. "FBI forensic accountant. Or I was.” She faltered. “I mean until I got sent into the middle of Montana to––“
“––To be assassinated.” Griff cut in.
"FBI?" Ronan's tone was instantly suspicious.
