"What are you doing at my gate?" Trent asked.
"We need to talk." Lach glanced between them. "About Garrett Dutton. About Sovereign Resources. About what's been happening here."
"I don't know you," Trent said. “And I sure as hell don’t trust you.”
“I trust you even less than he does.” Dove raised her weapon. “You should know, I was a sniper in the Army. I could take you both out before my boyfriend here could get off a shot, and either you had the chance to yell duck.”
Lach chuckled. “I see you have the same sense of humor Slade had.”
“I’m not going to say this again.” Dove widened her stance. “It’s time for you to leave.”
“We’re not gonna do that, ma’am,” Easton said, holding up his hand before Trent could respond. “You’re gonna want to hear what we have to say because we have what they’re looking for."
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.
