"They owe the Breeds that money," Rachel pointed out, her tone firm. "What you need to do is make a move to keep the money out of the appropriations committee's hands and directly under Breed control at a certain amount per quarter."
"They're too scared we're going to turn on them," Callan grunted as he leaned back in his seat and rubbed his finger along his jaw. "They think halting that money will keep us from taking over their various countries."
"As if we'd want to deal with their bullshit as well as our own." Tanner snorted at the thought. "Hell, just running Sanctuary is enough of a headache, wouldn't you say?"
That was about the truth.
"Rachel." Jonas turned to her.
"A heli-jet is being prepared and I'm having Lawe move ahead to pull mission files," she stated before turning to him, an edge of worry in her expression. "Am I going?"
He nodded abruptly before turning to Callan. "I need preparations made for Erin to bring Amber into Sanctuary while we're gone. Cassie is currently in residence, correct?"
Callan sat up straight, his eyes narrowing. "Cassie will ruin that child. I'll have quarters set up for Amber and her caretaker. She can assume twenty-four-hour detail. I'll assign someone to help her, but Cassie spoils babies worse than their mothers do. You don't want her anywhere near her."
"Wrong." Jonas wanted no one but Cassie near her, actually. "Assign Cassie as backup. I'll accept Erin as primary care."
Jonas rose to his feet, knowing it would be taken care of.
"Jonas, Amber is my child," Rachel stated quietly as she moved in front of him. "Shouldn't you at least consult with me?"
Ironic amusement filled her tone, although a hint of anger threatened.
"Would you have done it differently?" He tilted his head to the side, wondering if she seriously had a better alternative.
"Doing it differently isn't the point," she told him as she began to pack away their notepads. "The point is," she turned back to him, "consult with me next time. And I will be telling my daughter good-bye before we leave."
She strode from the office with her shoulders straight, her head held high.
"Consider that a warning, my friend." Callan chuckled behind him as he and the others rose to their feet. "Even for the sake of expediency, never, ever make decisions of the family nature without the direct input of your mate. The results could otherwise be fatal."
Evidently they could be. Jonas scratched at the side of his jaw as he gave the other men a rakish smile. Turning to leave the room, he thought the world might be a little brighter today.
He'd watched Callan and the others being gently chastised by their wives on more than one occasion, and he'd always felt an odd sort of envy for it. They'd possessed mates who lovingly guided them in how to be a part of a family, how to be more than a Breed within a unit of Breeds. How to be more than soldiers or killers.
Over the years, he'd seen the results of that guiding influence. Men who had once known nothing but death could laugh; they played with their children; they made silly faces at babies and they moved in a world that included more than blood, death and punishment.
Jonas had longed for that world. He'd longed to be a part of more than the blood and death, the past that haunted him. He had that now. And he intended to keep it. "Senator Tyler has arranged to delay the meeting with the appropriations committee to allow us time to arrive and to gather our information," Rachel informed him as they stepped into the back of the heli-jet. "He doesn't have the details of their supposed proof, but one of the other members who keeps his sympathy for the Breeds secret has advised him to warn us that they have circumstantial evidence at present, and that Senator Racert is working to build upon it."
"Good luck," Jonas grunted as he helped her strap in, before clipping his own safety harness and preparing for lift-off. "Does Tyler have any idea what information we should bring with us?"
She was frowning as she scrolled through the reports she was receiving. "At present his contact is fairly certain they're concentrating on all missions conducted with the U.S. and Israeli military through last year and going into this year," she answered shortly as she began using the electronic notebook's holographic keypad and typing furiously. "We have a total of a dozen missions conducted with the Mossad, Jonas, but nothing that could even come close to providing us with a chance to conduct a military maneuver or act of aggression against the U.S. or any of the other nations that have contributed to the Breeds' funding."
"Start running probables," he told her as he pulled his own E-pad from her briefcase. "I want to know which missions would have come close to presenting such opportunities. Don't confine the parameters to the Israeli missions; branch out to all countries that are a part of the Breed financial accord."
She was nodding as he spoke, working to get the information into the pad as the heli-jet raced for D.C.
"We'll need to stop at the Bureau offices," she told him. "Lawe should have the files pulled by the time we get there. We can head to the Justice Department, where the senators are convening."
Jonas gave a slight nod as he continued to pull up information on his own pad. There had to be a reason for the sudden investigation into their funds. No doubt the reason for it was completely falsified, but even the senators involved with the appropriations committee knew that the Breeds didn't depend on the funds allocated from the financial accord.
"ETA in ten minutes, Director Wyatt," Jackal informed them as Jonas began reviewing missions. "Let's eliminate any chance of a surprise here."
"Do you have any idea the number of missions that have gone out in the past eighteen months?" She stared back at him doubtfully, as though he had somehow lost his mind.
"Exactly three hundred and fifty-four missions; seventeen planning-phase aborts and twenty-six en-route aborts. That doesn't count the four hundred and fifty-seven refusals we gave in the same amount of time. Should I give you the number of privately subsidized missions we've taken in the same amount of time?" he queried.
"One hundred and thirty-six privately subsidized missions, of which there were seventy-two refusals, fifty-three planning-phase aborts and thirteen en-route aborts. Should I catalog them into amounts of kidnappings to extractions to private security?" She glanced back at him with a grin.