jazz band that played softly in the background, and a handful of locals who knew better than to bother the other customers. Oh, and the finest tequila in the city.
They even had their own table that was reserved for them every Friday night.
Tucked in a back corner, it was shrouded in shadows and well away from the long bar that ran the length of one wall. A perfect spot to observe without being observed.
And best of all, situated so no one could sneak up from behind.
It might have been almost two years since they’d returned from the war, but none of them had forgotten. Lowering your guard, even for a second, could mean death.
Lesson. Fucking. Learned.
Tonight, however, it was only Rafe and Hauk at the table, both of them sipping tequila and eating peanuts from a small bucket.
Lucas was still in Washington D.C., working his contacts to help drum up business for their new security business, ARES. Max had remained at their new offices, putting the final touches on his precious forensics lab, and Teagan was on his way to the bar after installing a computer system that would give Homeland Security a hemorrhage if they knew what he was doing.
Leaning back in his chair, Rafe intended to spend the night relaxing after a long week of hassling with the red tape and bullshit regulations that went into opening a new business, when he made the mistake of checking his messages.
“Shit.”
He tossed his cellphone on the polished surface of the wooden table, a tangled ball of emotions lodged in the pit of his stomach.
Across the table Hauk sipped his tequila and studied Rafe with a lift of his brows.
At a glance, the two men couldn’t be more different.
Rafe had dark hair that had grown long enough to touch the collar of his white button-down shirt along with dark eyes that were lushly framed by long, black lashes. His skin remained tanned dark bronze despite the fact it was late September, and his body was honed with muscles that came from working on the small ranch he’d just purchased, not the gym.
Hauk, on the other hand, had inherited his Scandinavian father’s pale blond hair that he kept cut short, and brilliant blue eyes that held a cunning intelligence. He had a narrow face with sculpted features that were usually set in a stern expression.
And it wasn’t just their outward appearance that made them so different.
Rafe was hot tempered, passionate and willing to trust his gut instincts.
Hauk was aloof, calculating, and mind-numbingly anal. Not that Hauk would admit he was OCD. He preferred to call himself detail-oriented.
Which was exactly why he was a successful sniper. Rafe, on the other hand, had been trained in combat rescue. He was capable of making quick decisions, and ready to change strategies on the fly.
“Trouble?” Hauk demanded.
Rafe grimaced. “The real estate agent left a message saying she has a buyer for my grandfather’s house.”
Hauk looked predictably confused. Rafe had been bitching about the need to get rid of his grandfather’s house since the old man’s death a year ago.
“Shouldn’t that be good news?”
“It would be if I didn’t have to travel to Newton to clean it out,” Rafe said.
“Aren’t there people you can hire to pack up the shit and send it to you?”
“Not in the middle of fucking nowhere.”
Hauk’s lips twisted into a humorless smile. “I’ve been in the middle of fucking nowhere, amigo, and it ain’t Kansas,” he said, the shadows from the past darkening his eyes.
“Newton’s in Iowa, but I get your point,” Rafe conceded. He did his best to keep the memories in the past where they belonged. Most of the time he was successful. Other times the demons refused to be leashed. “Okay, it’s not the hell hole we crawled out of, but the town might as well be living in another century. I’ll have to go deal with my grandfather’s belongings myself.”
Hauk reached to pour himself another shot of tequila from the bottle that had been waiting for them in the center of the table.
Like Rafe, he was dressed in an Oxford shirt, although his was blue instead of white, and he was wearing black dress pants instead of jeans.
“I know you think it’s a pain, but it’s probably for the best.”
Rafe glared at his friend. The last thing he wanted was to drive a thousand miles to pack up the belongings of a cantankerous old man who’d never forgiven Rafe’s father for walking away from Iowa. “Already trying to