“No.” Z’s tone hardened. “I’ve got a missing agent. I want the best I’ve got. That’s you. I know you’ve got a beef with Max, but I need you to set it aside. Find Deck and proceed with your hatred of the man, but until then—”
“Brantley, I had no idea this—”
Before Reese could apologize for something far out of his control, Brantley stepped up to him. “We’re gonna find Deck and the woman. That’s our case. Nothing else matters.”
Reese nodded, but Brantley could see the uncertainty in his eyes.
When Z spoke, it was apparent he was frustrated. “You’ll be wheels up in forty-five, Walker. Can you make it?”
“We’ll be there.”
“Keep me in the loop,” Z said.
“Yep.”
“Who’s goin’ with you?” JJ prompted when the call disconnected. “And remember, Evan’s got his daughter’s party this weekend.”
“And you’ve got Charlie and Jay in Chicago,” Baz noted.
“We’ve already given Slade and Atticus a heads up,” Brantley informed them.
“And Becs,” Reese noted.
“I want you runnin’ it from this end,” Brantley told Baz directly, then looked at JJ. “I want you and Luca to give me everything about the Kavanaghs. Get every available person on this. I wanna know where they’ve been, who they’ve talked to. Hell, I wanna know what the fuck they ate for dinner before they went missing. I wanna know what we’re dealin’ with. And I want to know who thefuckMax Adorite is tryin’ to find and how it’s related to them.”
Baz nodded while JJ said, “Sure thing, boss.”
***
Atticus rolled over and groaned when hisphone vibrated in his pocket. He’d fallen asleep on the damn thing.
“I think it’s safe to say someone’s lookin’ for you.”
Forcing his eyes open, he lifted his head, searching for the owner of the voice. He found Carson sitting in the upholstered armchair, a cup of coffee in his hand.
“What time is it?”
“A little after five. That’s not the first time your phone went off.”
Shit.
He grumbled as he sat up, shoving his hair back from his face as he dug his phone out of his pocket. He squinted at the screen, attempting to read the latest text message from Reese.
We’ll be wheels up in forty-five. Expect you at the airstrip on time.
“Dammit,” he muttered, pushing to his feet. “Mind if I use the head?”
Carson gestured toward the hallway.
Atticus used the bathroom, then took a minute to splash water on his face. He glanced at the toothbrush in the holder and considered borrowing it. Instead, he used toothpaste on his finger to get the foul taste out of his mouth. He could change on the plane or when they got to wherever they were going. The last thing he wanted was to risk being late. He’d been toeing the line with the team until he could figure out the rules. Something told him that being late for a flight would likely get him booted from the case, and Atticus happened to like working on the task force—more specifically, a steady paycheck—so he wouldn’t be doing that.
When he returned to the living room, Carson was still sitting in the chair.
“Did I wake you? Was I snoring or something?”
“I’m an early riser.”
Well, that was good to know.
