Former Delta Force Team Wolf commander, Garret ‘Rock’ Rockwell, dominated every space he walked into. “Welcome to Colombia, boys.” He walked down the steps to meet them. “Good to see you, Rowan. It’s been a long time.”
“Nearly eight years.” Rowan clasped Rock’s hand and pulled him into a bro-hug. “How’s the family?” It still blew his mind that Rock and Grif were married to and had kids with one of the Kennedys out of Georgia.
“Good. Allie’s inside. If you want to insert by air, she’ll helo-drop you guys as close as we can, when you’re ready to roll,” Rock said as he led them into the mansion, “but first food, gear, shit, shave, all the usual crap you need to do to be mission ready. Mi casa, su casa.”
He did a fast headcount to make sure nobody was about to piss off one of the only friends they had in this area by walking around his house unsupervised. “Did my guy Cross send your guy what we have?”
“Yup.” Rock led them through the house and out through a set of French doors to an outdoor kitchen. He leaned against the terracotta stone pizza oven and watched Stronghold’s crew as they spread around the space. “Cade gave all the intel to FRED?—"
“Whoa.” Rowan exchanged a glance with Gael as he struggled to keep the rage that blasted through him at bay. He’d never have sent the intel to Rock if he thought he was going to pass it on to someone else. “Who the fuck is Fred? He better be one of yours and not?—”
“Calm your tits, asshole.” Grif stomped around the corner of the house and joined Rock at the pizza oven. “FRED is our computer program, Find, Recon, Evaluate, Decide. We fed it all the intel we have on El Pastor, Jalisco New Generation Cartel, and your hostage.” He glared at the twins. “We’d never fuck up your op by giving intel to outsiders, and I’m insulted it would even cross your mind.”
“Shit.” Rowan scrubbed his hand down his face. “Sorry, man. I don’t know why I’m so on edge about this one.”
“The right woman will do that to you every time.” Rock’s voice rumbled out of his chest.
Is he insane?
“I’ve never met her.” Rowan corrected. “Even if I had, domestic, happy shit isn’t exactly in my wheelhouse?—”
Something slammed into his cheek and he clapped a hand over it.
“What the hell?” Next to him, Gael dropped into a fighting stance, and all of his men reached for weapons none of them had.
“Lexi.”
“Sorry, Papa,” a voice called back. “I was practicing. I missed.” The voice grumbled, “I was aiming for the one next to him.”
“Get your butt back in the house, and give that blow gun to momma, before I come up there an’ whoop your butt.” Grif grabbed a tea towel and tossed it to Rowan. “You bleeding?”
“Momma will whack you with the skillet if you?—”
Rowan pulled his hand away from his face and showed it to Grif, relieved when his fingers weren’t smeared with blood.
Damn, that stings.
That’s their daughter?
Apple sure didn’t fall far from that tree.
He scanned around looking to see if he could find the source of the projectile that hit him, and came up empty.
Where the hell is she?
“Lex.” Rock’s voice was filled with warning.
“Yes, daddy?”
“You’re ten, not two. Go find your momma and take your brother with you.Now.” Rock glared in the direction the voice was coming from. “You know better than to interrupt a briefing.”
“Yes, sir.”
It took him longer than it should have to understand what this place was. The house Rock and Grif had invited them into wasn’t just a safe house. It was Rock, Grif, and Allie’s private family safe house.
Holy crap.
“Despite your kid trying to shoot my eye out, I’m honored you invited us here.”
