Page 51 of Rafe’s Future

Falcon lifted two fingers as if signaling his intention to be the next speaker. “Why would a professional like Miller work with someone like that?”

“Miller didn’t need a mastermind,” Lena pointed out bluntly. “He just needed a driver.”

Rafe nodded. “She’s right. Local boys come cheap, and they know the roads.”

West’s playful stare met the room as his mouth lifted into a knowing smirk. “Any takers on the kind of car Bulldog drives?”

“One that matches the description of our drive-by?” Coulter guessed.

The man on the screen smiled wide. “A perfect match, actually.”

“Well, there you go.” Apollo looked to Rafe. “We need to find this guy and make him tell us everything he knows.”

All eyes turned to Coulter when the former CIA officer gave a quick clap of his hands. “Now, that’s my kind of field trip.”

Lena raised a partially lifted palm. “Easy, Morgan. We’re going there to talk.”

“Oh, I know.” With an exaggerated look of innocence, he let a corner of his mouth lift high. “Talking’s what I do best.”

“Must suck to be Alex.” Falcon mocked, referring to Alexandria Webb, his brother’s soon-to-be wife.

But Coulter hurriedly assured him, “She doesn’t complain to me.”

“Probably can’t, what with all the talking going on.”

The two brothers flashed each other the bird, sending a hum of deep chuckles around the table.

To West, Rafe brought the original conversation back into play by asking, “Anything else we should know about Lionel James, aka Bulldog, before we pay him a visit?”

The seasoned surfer-looking operative gave a slight shake of his blond head. “Just watch your backs. He might be mid-level, but don’t forget, he was in bed with a professional hitman.”

“Not to mention, whoever hired him and Miller.” Lena glanced Rafe’s way.

From the screen on the wall, West sat back in his chair while spinning an ink pen between his fingers. “Well, while y’all go round up Bulldog, I’ll keep doing my thing from here.”

“Follow the money.” Lena took charge. “The brains of this whole thing is still out there, and we need to find them. The working theory is it’s Kozlova, but we can’t keep assuming. We need tangible proof that he’s our guy.”

The former SEAL gave a slight dip of his chin. “Yes, ma’am. Consider me on it.”

“Thanks, Derek.” Rafe turned to face the screen. “I’ll be in contact once we’ve had the chance to question the driver.”

“Talk to you then.” West lifted his free hand in a sloppy salute.

A second later, the screen went black.

“Let’s roll, boys.” Bones shot to his feet. To Lena, he added a chagrined tip of his head, “And lady. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Bones.” Lena began moving toward the door with a smirk. “I’m used to it. Trust me.”

Rafe followed her and the others out of the situation room. Minutes later, the group of five was piling into the team’s SUV.

The drive to Lionel James’ neighborhood took a little over twenty minutes. When they turned onto his street, he pulled up next to the curb, parking half a block away.

First step—observe. There were too many unknowns to bull their way in without first ensuring there were no noticeable threats.

The neighborhood they were in looked like any other low-income stretch of land. Cracked and buckled sidewalks. Weed-filled yards lined by a long stretch of interlocking, chain-link fence.

Rafe pulled away from the trash-lined gutter, letting the wheels of the SUV creep closer to their target’s dwelling. As he did, a spot happened to open right out front, as if derived by divine intervention. Once they were parked for the second time in as many minutes, he took another moment to fully assess the area.