“What about the police?” Cross asked, as if he’d never asked the question before. “What did they say, and how are you processing that information now that you can connect an enemy?”
God, how Patch loved his team. He resented Cross putting this back on him, forcing him to work through the situation, but it was Patch who held the details in his brain.
He rolled his neck, cracking it, but it didn’t release the tension. “There were no skid marks on the pavement heading into the crash, only from the vehicle peeling out. Eyewitnesses say that it happened maybe a minute or two after impact. When I started digging into Hannah’s death, I considered that an enemy from the military had bled over into my personal life, but that wouldn’t have made sense for my folks. I was just a pimple-faced teenager. However, McGuire and I always wondered if somehow the two were connected. If my folks or Hannah had done something to piss someone off.”
“I remember helping you search for clues.” Stone nodded. “We came up short every time… until possibly now.”
“Yeah, but Gunner saved me when I was a baby. Locke told me I wasn’t supposed to make it back from Operation Yellowjacket. So, why would Gunner want me dead? It feels more like he’s trying to make me suffer by killing the people I love. And let’s remember that the mission was before Hannah died.” Patch rubbed his temples. Sometimes thinking this hard was too much. He missed the days when he could kick back, put his feet up, and watch the alligators lazily swim upriver.
“Maybe that wasn’t Gunner’s original directive, but once you got trapped behind enemy lines, he went with it,” Cross said.
“That’s possible.” Patch nodded. “The next mission we were on together, things went well enough. We butted heads, but that was always the case. We crossed paths several times, but not in the field where something could happen.”
“Another thing to consider,” McGuire started. “Gunner might have two objectives here. Because he couldn’t have known we were alive until a couple of months ago, if at all. Part of this is about my sister.”
“Who, whether you like it or not, is attached to me.” Patch arched a brow. “We were in a relationship for five years. We only hid that for the first six months. After that, we were out in the open, for the most part. Between that and her getting named director of the 73, that had to have burned Gunner’s ass.”
“I’m sure it did,” Stone said. “But Gunner went off radar before you and Savvy broke up.”
“Doesn’t mean he wasn’t watching me… and if he’s calling the shots now with Black Ledger, he’s been watching Savvy.” Patch sighed. “If he suspects we’re together, either he’s looking to kill two birds with one stone?—”
“Or he plans on killing one of you while the other watches,” McGuire finished Patch’s statement.
“That’s not making me feel any better.” Patch glanced toward the cabin. Savvy had made her way onto the porch. She leaned against the railing, folded her arms across her chest, and stared in his direction with a scowl. He knew that expression well, and this was not a conversation he was looking forward to having.
Savvy had always prioritized men and women over the mission, which hadn’t always gone over well with those above her. The philosophy had been that those who signed up to serve their country knew they were offering their lives. Their blood—their sacrifice—was an honor.
But Savvy didn’t see it that way. She’d do what all great leaders did: give up her own life before she allowed those who followed her lead to suffer.
Ironically, those loyal to Savvy would do exactly the same thing for her. It was a never-ending cycle.
Patch sighed. “We need a plan, and we can’t leave Savvy out of this a second longer.” He shifted his gaze, staring at McGuire, who nodded in acceptance.
Patch jumped to his feet. “We’ve got three days to put an end to this. Mendoza told us that Gunner wasn’t far. Less thana hundred miles away. I’d prefer to end this in the next twenty-four hours.”
“That doesn’t give us much time to plan.” Cross rose slowly. “But we’ve put missions together in less time when our lives were on the line.”
“Let’s go bring that fucker down so Savvy doesn’t have to spend a year in the shadows like we did.” Patch nodded.
“Or in this swamp.” McGuire tilted his chin.
“Well, now that’s up to her.” Patch turned and strolled up the dock, chuckling. He shouldn’t. It wasn’t a laughing matter. However, if Savvy wanted to stay, he wouldn’t say no.
He’d also leave… if she asked.
CHAPTER 13
The lantern’sglow flickered against the paneled walls, casting elongated shadows across the map spread on the table. Bayou tributaries and hand-sketched escape routes crisscrossed in red and black ink. It was quiet—too quiet—except for the occasional rustle of branches brushing the roof.
Savvy rubbed at the ache in her temples and looked up at the men and one woman gathered around the table—McGuire, Cross, Stone, Patch, and Riven. All of them had that same carved-from-stone expression, but none more so than Patch. He hadn’t said a word in the last few minutes, just stared at the map like he could will the plan into place.
“Let’s stop pretending,” Savvy said. “Gunner’s close. He sent Locke and Mendoza upriver. That wasn’t an attack. It was recon. He’s waiting for intel. Intel he’s not going to get because it can’t come from Mendoza.”
“We can’t trust Mendoza,” Cross said.
“He’s not bullshitting me.” Savvy glanced up. They’d been wargaming for hours. They were all ornery and on their last nerve. “Locke’s the trusted man. If Gunner doesn’t hear from him, or if something happened, Gunner would know everythingmoving forward is one big fucking setup and we lose any leverage.”
McGuire leaned in, arms folded. “Agreed. He’s watching. Listening. We give him silence, he gets curious. We give him noise—he reacts.” He took the tin mug that Riven handed him and sipped.
