went up. “What new team?”
“If you’d spent any time with your team over the last few months, you’d know that KGI has formed a third team comprised of Nathan, Joe and Swanny and two new recruits, Skylar Watkins and Zane Edgerton.”
Cole dismissed them in a glance. He wanted to know what the big, hairy deal was that made Steele call him up. Two new recruits for a team that wasn’t his own couldn’t have been what made Steele call him in.
Donovan, who’d been on the phone in the corner, stuffed the cell back into his pocket and then walked over to where everyone else was gathered.
“We have a lead on Brumley,” he said. “We know where he’ll be in three days’ time. He has another deal going down, one important enough for him to resurface.” Donovan took a breath and leveled a serious stare at the others. “This one’s big. Much bigger than past ones. He’s gotten a hell of a lot bolder. It’s thought he has well over thirty girls. A mixture of nationalities and all under the age of fifteen.”
There were grimaces and noises of disgust. Skylar’s nostrils flared and her eyes burned with anger.
Cole’s pulse accelerated, and his stomach churned. He’d dreamed of having that son of a bitch at his mercy. He’d conjured up some pretty harsh images of all the ways Brumley would die a long, painful death.
He glanced up at Steele, noticing the savage glint in his eyes.
Cole sat forward, propping his elbows on his knees. Yeah, he wanted in, but his first priority was finding P.J. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by revenge. Killing Brumley wouldn’t bring P.J. back, as satisfying as seeing the bastard die would be.
He started to get up, his intention to leave. Being here with all the members of KGI just highlighted P.J.’s absence even more.
The entire idea of a mercenary group was to be detached. Do the job. Don’t get emotionally involved. Their success hinged on being able to turn off their emotions.
But KGI—his team, headed by Steele—was different. It was a hokey bunch of bullshit, but the entire KGI organization wasn’t the average gun-for-hire group. They had a conscience. Their missions were righteous. At least from their perspective, and that was all that was important. At the end of the day, if they could look at themselves in the mirror and not flinch away, it was all good.
“Sit down, Cole,” Steele said. “You need to hear this.”
Cole’s jaw tightened, but then he saw the glint in Steele’s eyes. It wasn’t anger over the fact that Cole had been about to walk out. There was keen interest. Anticipation. Like something big was about to go down.
It made Cole stop in his tracks.
Donovan picked up a folder from the table and opened it before addressing the occupants of the room.
“We’ve been looking for Brumley for months. He disappeared, and it seems he’s been hiding. Which is interesting enough—given his arrogance and the fact that he has so many connections, he’s never concerned himself with being too obscure.”
“He’s got a damn horseshoe stuck up his ass,” Garrett bit out. “The son of a bitch is lucky.”
“Yeah, well when you add the kind of money and power he has to luck, you get someone damn near invincible,” Sam said.
“He’s scared,” Donovan said.
He got everyone’s attention with those words.
“Two members of his personal security team, men he’s never without, have turned up dead,” Donovan continued. “Brumley doesn’t take a shit without them, so the fact that someone got close enough to kill his guards is enough to make him spooky. It’s probably why he’s gone to ground for these past months. He’s been quiet, but the magnitude of this new deal apparently was enough to flush him out of his dark hole.”
Donovan pulled out a stack of enlarged photos and then carefully laid them out on the table.
Curiosity got the better of Cole, and he moved so he could see the pictures.
Several whistles and exclamations echoed through the room as everyone crowded around the table.
“Holy shit,” Dolphin said. “Whoever killed these dudes harbored some serious animosity. This isn’t a simple execution. This is personal.”
Cole stared down, frozen, as he took in the cuts on the men’s bodies. One vertically down the midline of their chest. Two more above the ribs. Two on the insides of their thighs. And each one had his throat slashed. In one instance, the head looked to only be barely attached to the rest of his body.
Ice