“Have a seat,” she said, motioning for the clear end of the table.
Siren and Reed sat down while their host sliced banana bread and poured them all cups of coffee. She brought everything over to the table. They each took a cup of coffee and plate of buttered banana bread before settling into business.
“So,” Jackie said after taking a sip of coffee. “Dom gave me general details about the situation. You were attacked by a professional team after Reed discovered the recording. And you’ve been on the road since Tuesday afternoon.”
“Correct,” Siren said, taking a bite of banana bread. It was delicious, and she appreciated being treated to home cooking. It made the whole situation feel more comfortable.
She gave her more details about the Crown Mountain conspiracy, and how Siren believed the attack and murder were connected. Jackie absorbed the information while Reed sipped his coffee and ate his food.
“You haven’t seen a tail since Oregon?”
“I haven’t. I’ve changed my plates twice on the way here. Patched up the bullet holes in the vehicle’s armor. I am confident we were not followed.”
“Good. Now, for the reason you’re here.”
She opened one of the manila folders on the table and pulled out the contents. There were two Nevada driver’s licenses with their faces on them. Credit cards to match. And a vehicle registration.
“Sarah and Michael Phillips. You’re a married couple from Henderson, Nevada. It’s a suburb outside of Los Vegas. Sarah is an administrative assistant at a law firm. Michael is a high school chemistry teacher. You’re on a cross-country road trip during Michael’s spring break.”
Siren picked up the license and examined it. The quality was flawless. This was professional work.
“It will hold up to anything short of FBI database access,” Jackie said. “The backstory is thin, but you’re driving across country, not applying for security clearance. Don’t get pulled over. Don’t do anything that would give anyone a reason to look twice at you.”
Jackie picked up one of the stacks of paper on the table. “Dom asked me to dig around into anyone who might have information on outfits taking anti-shifter contracts.”
She slid the paper toward Siren. “A former contractor named Garrett Cole. He worked some of the shadier outfits before he got out. Lives off-grid in Wyoming now. He’s paranoid as hell, but if anyone knows which private military contractor might be running operations like what you’re dealing with, it’s him.”
Siren studied the paper. It was coordinates in the Wild River Range. There was a recognition code written below it.
“That phrase lets him know I sent you. Without it, he won’t talk. Or worse.” Jackie raised an eyebrow. “He’ll meet you at those coordinates.”
Siren folded the paper and put it in her jacket pocket.
“The camper van is in the shop. Registration matches the documentation I gave you.”
“Thank you,” Siren said. “You’re saving this mission.”
She waved it off. “Dom’s done favors for me plenty of times.” Jackie took a sip of coffee and set down her mug. “One more thing…” she hesitated. “You’re visual profile needs to change if you want to effectively utilize your cover.”
Siren nodded. She knew this was coming.
“Right now. You’re reading military or biker chick. He already reads as nerdy high school teacher so that doesn’t need to change.”
Reed glanced at her, hands gripping his coffee mug.
“What did you have in mind?” Siren said, bracing herself. “I’d rather not dye my hair. I’ve been blonde before and it made me look terrible.”
“Nothing like that.”
Reed’s face was unreadable.
“How do you feel about florals?”
“Florals?”
“Right now you look like a woman who could kill a man with her bare hands.”
“It’s not just her looks,” Reed said, smirking.
