“I can pay them as consultants,” Angus said, taking another shot of his coffee. Maybe he should put a little sugar in it. Huh. Wolfe was ruining him. “Your job is to shrink heads and report back to HDD that we’re on the straight and narrow. Worrying about consultants is outside your purview.”
She stood, all grace and class. “Could you go one day without being a total butthead?”
He nearly choked on his coffee but quickly regained his composure. “No.”
She rolled her eyes and exited the office.
Grunting, he ripped open the mail, tossing the junk into the trash. He lifted the last one, a cream-colored envelope, and sliced it open. A handwritten note dropped out.
The world went silent. Electricity jolted from his head through his extremities in a dangerous rush of sparking heat.
His hand shook as he smoothed the paper to read the two words on the paper.Miss Me?
The handwriting, he knew well.
Sound rushed back in as fast as it had disappeared. Lassiter was finally making a move. Force had known that the bastard was still alive. Evil had its own presence. Okay. He’d start tracking, really hunting, the serial killer right away.
Then he turned his attention back to his too silent burner phone.
Where the hell were his men?
Chapter Forty-One
After a full day of working and getting nothing done, Dana smoothed her hands down her jeans, sitting at Wolfe’s desk in the bullpen of the HDD offices, with Roscoe munching on the side of her tennis shoe. She looked down. “It’s like you’re addicted.” Or maybe she’d spilled whipped cream from her latte on her shoe. Yeah, that was probably more likely.
The office was too quiet. The place seemed empty without Wolfe. He didn’t talk much, but he seemed to fill a room with his presence.
Malcolm worked quietly next to her, glancing at his phone every once in a while.
She wanted to reassure him that Wolfe was fine and would call in soon, but considering it was nearly dinnertime, and they hadn’t received any notice, the words kept choking in her throat.
The elevator protested, thunked, ground gears, and then opened.
“Ah, shit,” Mal said, leaning back in his chair.
At the sound, Angus and Raider emerged from case room two, their expressions identically irritated. Angus had been off all day, but so had everyone else.
Agents Fields and Rutherford hurried off the elevator as if afraid the doors were going to close on them, which was entirely possible.
Rutherford took the lead, his perfectly coiffed hair gleaming in the yellow fluorescent lights. Did he use mousse or some other product? Dana would love to get that kind of volume. “Why the hell aren’t any of your phones working?” Rutherford asked, looking out of place in the dingy office with his smooth, shiny gray suit and polished loafers.
Dana winced. Hadn’t anybody told the agents about the burner phones? Probably not. She kept silent, figuring Angus could handle the HDD guys.
But it was Nari who spoke first, stepping out of her tiny closet office. “We’ve been busy working on all the case files you dumped on us last week.”
Oh, good point. Dana had forgotten those case files, as had everyone else, as far as she could tell. Roscoe abandoned her shoe and stood, turning around and positioning himself between her and the agents. Ah, that was sweet. She reached out and scratched him between the ears, calming him. His butt dropped and he sat, his focus still remaining on what he must consider a threat.
Fields kept his gaze on the dog. Sharp man.
Rutherford wasn’t that smart. He looked at Angus, his stance belligerent. “I’ve requested to interview your team, and I’m tired of waiting for you to cooperate with the people paying your salary. So, we’re going to conduct said interviews right here and right now.” He angled his neck and looked beyond the elevator. “I believe there are a couple of interrogation rooms in this dump?”
Dana’s burner phone buzzed, and she jumped, scrambling for it on the desk and knocking over a cup of pens. “Hello? Hello?” she said frantically, pressing it to her ear.
“Hi, baby.” Wolfe’s voice came through strong.
Her entire body went limp, sagging in relief so strong she almost started crying. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, but Jethro is having surgery on his leg right now. Sorry about the delay calling, but we got pinned down for quite a while and then had to take evasive measures. It was all quiet until we landed at the Fort Sam Houston hospital early this evening.” Wolfe sounded strong and sure. Alive and well.
