Page 70 of Dark ’N’ Deadly

“Yes, sir,” Eric replied, taking in his supervisor’s uncharacteristic attire—a dark suit and tie. “The drums haven’t budged, and the only thing Pritchard and the other two men have done since going to the hotel in Chester is grab breakfast at the diner next door. After eating, they went back to their rooms and are still there. We’ve got two teams guarding the front and rear of the hotel.”

“Any sign of Harley Gant?” Verrone’s brows lifted.

“Negative.” He’d briefed all teams to notify him immediately if the bastard showed up, and he’d texted a photo of Gant for reference. It was an old image and had been taken at quite a distance, but given how few photos there were of Gant, it was the best he had.

“What else do we know about the two men with Pritchard yesterday?” Verrone asked.

“Charles Fenway is a hotel assistant manager. James Ruffalo is an out-of-work truck driver with a suspended CDL. He lost it for smuggling contraband liquor across the border. Both men have histories of not paying their taxes.”

Verrone made a harrumph sound. “That it?”

“Both are affiliated with a loosely organized sovereign citizen chapter in Vineland.” Eric continued flipping the pages in Millie’s folder, stopping to read the men’s known associates. “Every time they get dragged into court, their stated defense is that the government was acting outside its jurisdiction by requiring them to pay taxes or license fees and that they refuse to recognize federal, state, or local laws and regulations.”

Now it was Dayne’s turn to harrumph. “Classic sovereign citizen bullshit.”

“True that.” Eric nodded. “Now that they’ve aligned themselves with Pritchard, Gant can’t be far behind. Playing with the big dogs makes them just as dangerous.”

“Maybe more so,” Dayne added. “We don’t know what Fenway and Ruffalo were capable of before hooking up with Pritchard. Pack mentality tends to give dogs a set of balls they didn’t have before. No offense, Tiger.”

Tiger flicked his ears.

Eric tossed the folder on his desk. “Then we have to assume the worst.”

Sovereign citizens had no compunction about killing police and federal agents. No one knew that better than he did. Anyone who murdered law enforcement wouldn’t bat an eyelash at killing civilians.

“I know you have a history with Gant and Pritchard.” Verrone stood and placed a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “I need you to keep a clear head on this. We’ve got a briefing in an hour with the SACs of the ATF, FBI, and the JTTF director. They’re coming here.”

Which explained Verrone’s business attire. He’d been afraid that was why he was wearing a suit today.

“The controlled delivery went well,” Verrone continued. “Aside from your cooperator leaving the engine running. Have you reviewed the footage the lab managed to enhance?”

“I’m about to do that right now.” He opened his email and scrolled to the one from the lab.

“Keep me informed.” Verrone turned and headed back to his office.

While Eric raised the volume on the speakers and clicked open the attached video file, Dayne came around behind Eric’s desk and leaned in.

Using the cursor, he fast-forwarded to where Tess turned into the dirt driveway to the barn. Two vehicles came into view, a white sedan and a dark blue SUV. Like the one on the street this morning. Agents had already run the vehicles, both of which were rented using counterfeit IDs in the names of people who didn’t exist.

The lab had tweaked the audio, but it wasn’t perfect. When Fenway and Ruffalo confronted Tess about her identity, the sound was still somewhat muffled. He adjusted the volume lower, then higher, struggling to find the best setting.

Pritchard entered the picture and Eric tensed, barely able to sit still. He didn’t relish watching what came next.

That sonofabitch’s sleazy hands on my woman.

The implication of his last thought wasn’t lost on him. Just as he’d never handed over a house key to a girlfriend before, he’d never—ever—thought of any woman as his. More importantly, he hadn’t wanted to.

Rain pounded the pickup, making the audio even more difficult to decipher. He and Dayne leaned in closer. They watched and listened to Tess getting grilled about her identity by the man he now knew as Fenway. Fenway didn’t trust her. That much was clear.

Another man came from the barn, walking toward the others. Pritchard.

“Don’t worry, boys,” Pritchard said. “I’ll vouch for the lady. Well, how do, Tess?”

Eric stopped breathing.

What the—

Pritchard hadn’t been anywhere near Tess when she’d told Fenway her identity, and with all the pounding rain and wind there was no way he could have heard her say her name.