"You're smiling," Bradley warned as he turned into the parking garage of the FBI building.
Jason just chuckled. "It's possible."
Finding a spot, Bradley parked his SUV. "Well, next time, tell me to wait in the damned car." Snapping off his seatbelt, he looked over. "Zara's good for you, Jason. She makes you happy. I'm more than willing to get 'caught in traffic' a few times for the team."
"She also knows that we're about to get assigned," Jason pointed out. "Any idea what's up?"
"Yep," Bradley said. "Unlike you, I spend more time watching the news lately than throwing my wife in bed."
Both men laughed as they got out, and Jason opened the back door for his dog. Crysis jumped down and began to wag his tail, thrilled to be at his person's side more often recently. That was another benefit of the changes they'd made. With Jason posing as a gamer who'd been sponsored for his military service, having a PTSD dog at his side made sense.
"Crysis, heel," Jason said, grabbing the dog's leash, and then the three of them headed to the entrance.
There they had their badges checked before they were allowed inside. The ride up the elevator was quiet, but they weren't alone. In fact, it almost felt like the entire building was moving just a little bit faster than normal. Jason glanced over to Bradley in confusion. His partner just shook his head subtly, making it clear that it would all come out soon enough.
When the elevator stopped on their floor, both men made their way off and headed to their Section Chief's office. Isaiah Dalton's door was open and the man was on the phone when they entered, yet he still waved for them to have a seat. Crysis followed, taking a spot on the floor by Jason's feet just as Agent Dalton hung up.
"So," he said, looking over the two men, "it seems your friends at Deviant Games have turned this whole thing into a circus."
All of the pieces clicked into place. "Rhaven," Jason breathed.
"Is that her name?" Agent Dalton asked. "All of my records are calling her Ethan Moore. I don't have her new name in front of me."
"It's Rhaven, spelled with an h," Jason assured him, "and that's legal. So you may want to have those records updated to reflect that."
The Section Chief paused. "Another friend?"
"One of the confidential informants we signed," Jason assured him. "She's been targeted a few times."
"Just recently," Bradley added, "she was doxxed. I assisted in getting her personal information changed so the attackers would lose the trail. That she wanted to change her name legally only helped."
"And gender," Agent Dalton added. "New Social Security number to go with it. Well, did that at least make the terrorists pause?"
Both Jason and Bradley looked up quickly. "Terrorist" wasn't a word the FBI used without good cause. That their boss had done so said a lot, and from the smirk on the man's face, he was very aware of it.
"You saved my ass," Agent Dalton assured them. "Rhaven's little press conference hit the national news. Someone asked the President about it at an event. He asked the Director. The Director wanted to know why he wasn't in the loop, and I was more than happy to hand him all of your reports and your attempts at escalation. There's no one to blame but the higher-ups." Then he dropped his arms onto his desk and leaned over them. "And you're being assigned a team of analysts. I want you to funnel them all of the data you've been tracking."
"Sir..." Bradley breathed, glancing over at Jason.
Agent Dalton just lifted a hand. "The clean version, because I'm getting the impression that a few liberties have been taken with this case?"
"Sir?" Jason asked. "Any improprieties are on me."
"Is it going to compromise this fucking case?" Agent Dalton demanded.
"There could be some questions about objectivity," Jason admitted. "Kitty Rodriguez named me as her son's godfather."
"Because you saved her life," Agent Dalton said. "Yes,