“Ah, so helpful, Inspector Gadget,” TJ grumbles, his stance squared with his arms crossed over his chest.
I’ve never known what the deal is between these two, but I don’t have time for their passive-aggressive sparring.
Vanessa ignores him, still studying. “It almost looks like a brand. You know, the kind they use on cattle. This part looks like a ‘J’ curled around or a ‘T’ in cursive, maybe.”
“The “J” would go with Jared, but I don’t know. Something seems off.” I flashback to him standing in front of Cole, the slick, provoking smile curling his lips. “Why would he start this now, not six months or a year after things fell through?”
“You’re right, Ry. Some of these seem to be tied to his position on the team and to wanting him out. The others. . . ” TJ motions to the threats spread over Tracker’s desk. “Why would this guy care if Cole plays and wins or not?”
“Because it gives him more attention, more power, which all lead to more money,” Van says, taking a sip of her coffee.
“But those things could infuriate anyone he’s ever pissed off.” By his tone, TJ just called her a dumbass, but his point is valid.
Vanessa glares at him from underneath her dark eyelashes, one cheek scrunching upward in total disgust and annoyance. “Why are you even here? Don’t you have surveillance you’re supposed to be conducting?”
He does, and that’s actually why Van is here.
TJ’s stony gaze remains on her. “I do, but I’m backup on this case, and I can’t get started until you give me what you’ve found out. Unless you haven’t had time between hair, makeup, and ensuring you’re wrinkle-free.”
I groan. These two need a boxing ring.
As soon as Track sent Van the picture of the man I saw talking to Cole’s GM, she was on it. He’s a businessman of the worst kind. If there’s anyone who can dig into those details and remain undetected, it’s Van. TJ knows it, too, but he just has to push her buttons.
Van straightens in her heels, matching his closed-off stance. “You know, it’d do you good to shower and use a razor occasionally. A little self-care might help you figure out whatever has been wedged up your ass for—”
“Guys!” I rub my forehead. “Seriously, we have work to do.”
Their heated glares stay locked on each other, but TJ finally breaks the unspoken contest. “Do you have what I need?”
Van stands down. “Yes. I sniffed around. Cassidy identified him.”
Cassidy Kincaid is Van’s mentor and a businesswoman at the highest level. I was assigned to guard her a few years ago. Cassidy knows everyone; if she doesn’t, she knows someone who will.
Van shifts to business mode. “Here’s what I have so far. He’s an oil tycoon. He spends time all over the world. Yachts, jets, big connections to the rich and famous. Real shocker, he has a majorstake in Five Stars, the conglomerate behind Marquet and other luxury hotels. From what I can tell, he seems to keep a tight circle of associates.”
Tracker runs a hand over his face.
“You know what this means,” I say.
His gaze meets mine.
“He could be restocking.” The knowing makes my head feel like it might actually explode.
“TJ, see if you can find him.” Track orders. “We need to know where he’s hanging out and if he’s sticking around. Get in touch with our contacts at the hotels and marinas. They need to be our eyes and ears. We need to know if he’s here to do business or just passing through.”
I already know enough. I know what this man does, and I want to kill him.
“Do you have anything that will get me started?” TJ grumbles, nodding to Van’s folder.
Van’s head falls to the side. “I’d be happy to run a few searches to see if I can locate where he might be staying, but to be clear, I’m not doing it for you.”
Tracker groans this time, his eyes rolling back in his head. “Look, Hope and I are taking off this weekend. It’d be nice if you two,” he wags his finger between them. “Sorted this hostile shit out.”
Van drops her crossed arms and gathers her stuff along with her coffee. She eyes me, one side of her mouth tugging upward into a smirk that I ignore. “I’ll see you at our scheduled debriefing.” She turns to TJ. “Let’s go. I only have a bit of time, but I’ll afford you a minute to stop in the bathroom and pull your head out of your ass.”
TJ follows her out of Track’s office. “You know if you. . . ”
We don’t hear the rest of his comeback as Tracker rests his arms on the desk.
