After a moment of silent animosity, the bastard turned to Dev and held out his hand.
“Ryder Pienkowski.” The big dude indicated the equally big, blonde guy beside him with a jerk of his chin. “Finn Rowland.”
Devlin shook both their hands, his dark gaze assessing. “Lieutenant Commander Devlin Russo. You’ve already met Lieutenants Brett Taggart and Lucas Trammel.” He paused to scan the strangers from head to boot. “Where you out of?”
“MacDill,” the guy who’d called himself Ryder replied after a quick sidewise glance at his teammate.
He must be referencing MacDill Air Force Base outside Tampa, Florida, which housed a couple of spec ops units. And these dudes sure as hell shed the spec ops vibe. What were they? Semper fi? Pararescue? Both commands were stationed at MacDill.
Devlin studied the pair. “You with MARCENT?”
Which was a fancy way of asking them if they were Marines.
Another of those quick, careful glances passed between the two strangers.
Pienkowski swiped a hand over his shaggy head and down the back of his neck before letting it drop to his side. “Army Special Forces.”
“No shit.” Tag kept his face and voice expressionless. “Green Beret? Is it true you boys kill with sticky notes?”
He tuned out the choking sound Tram made beside him. But it was a hell of a lot harder to ignore the shut-the-fuck-up look Dev shot him before turning back to the pair in the hot seat.
“Far as I know, Army Special Forces aren’t stationed out of MacDill. They’re out of Elgin.” Dev frowned when the two men shrugged in unison. “Who’s your C.O.?”
“Captain Nguyen,” Pienkowski said.
With a furrow of his brows, Devlin scanned the two men again. Tag could almost see him questioning whether they could be trusted.
“How’d you get stuck with a protection detail?” Judging by the slight relaxation of Russo’s lean frame, he’d decided to give the pair the benefit of the doubt.
“Langley is the daughter of Ambassador Canfield.” Pienkowski chose his words with care. “The ambassador recently received some threats against his family. Since we’re on leave, he asked us to sit on her until the threats were assessed.”
They’d agreed to give up their leave for a babysitting detail? Tag frowned. They were either making bank on this assignment, or—he glanced at Pienkowski remembering the look on the guy’s face when he’d discovered Langley was missing—this detail was personal. At least for the team leader anyway; the rest of his team would have jumped on board to support him.
Such was team life.
“Why you and not the feds?” Tram asked, his voice borderline suspicious.
Pienkowski hesitated before combining a frown with a shrug. “We had dealings with the family last year. Apparently, Ms. Canfield is allergic to bodyguards. Her father thought she might be more comfortable with men she knew and trusted.”
The guy’s fleeting grimace clearly indicated he didn’t have as much faith in the daughter’s reaction to her looming lockdown as her father did. Tag might have felt a sliver of sympathy for the bastard if he’d bothered to share this information earlier, like the first fucking time he’d been asked.
Recognition flashed across Devlin’s face. “You’re part of the team that rescued her from the rebels in Puerto Jardin, aren’t you?”
What the hell did that have to do with anything? Could they get back on fucking track and locate Sarah?
As Tag’s impatience crested, Tram grabbed his elbow and squeezed…hard. A stern warning to keep his impatience in check. But it was becoming more and more difficult to keep his feet still and his tongue civil. Damn it—they needed a plan. And fast. Sarah had been missing way over an hour now. God only knew the extent of the danger she was in.
Before his frustration managed to blow up and get him eighty-sixed from the building, another set of boot steps rang out behind him. He breathed a sigh of relief to find Rio striding down the center aisle.
Finally.
Rio joined the huddle at the front of the chapel, his attention shifting to Trammel. “Either woman show up?”
“No.” Tram scowled, rocking back on the heels of his dress shoes. “Their purses and cell phones are in the bridal suite. Sarah’s car is in the parking lot. No sign of the two women anywhere.”
Rio scowled, his attention shifting to Devlin. “I saw a bunch of your boys out canvassing the neighborhood. I hope to hell you’re not planning on launching your own investigation into this situation.”
Of course they were, which the bastard already knew, and nobody was going to admit. More fucking wasted