and as good as Vlad had ever seen.
Thank Christ, Digger had been smart enough to get the truck so they could get the hell out of there.
Vlad clenched his jaw, dreading the report they would have to make to the man who had hired them—not a guy you wanted to disappoint. Guy like that—Weaver, he called himself. Just Weaver. Good chance you could wind up buzzard meat out in the desert.
Vlad scratched his chin beneath his thin blond beard and glanced over at Digger, whose mood was as foul as his own. They were supposed to check in when the job was done, get a location from Weaver to pick up the money they’d earned. But they had failed tonight, and with Weaver, failure wasn’t an option.
A shudder of dread rolled down his spine.
He looked over at Digger, who was pacing the floor of the apartment, wearing a hole in the cheap brown-shag carpeting. “I been thinking. There’s no reason we have to call in tonight.”
Digger paused. He rubbed the side of his neck just above his tat. “What are you talking about?”
“I mean our time hasn’t completely run out. If we could find the girl, we could make another run at her and still meet our deadline.”
Digger grunted, his features grim. “Odds are she’ll still be with her Captain America boyfriend.”
“Maybe. Maybe it won’t matter. Not if we can come up with a better plan.”
“You got an idea that’s gonna get us paid and save our asses?”
“We gotta find ’em first, but yeah. We’ll get our money and better yet, we won’t get dead.”
Digger walked over to the breakfast bar, where a six-pack of empty Coors bottles lined up on the counter like dead soldiers. “I’m listening. But this idea better work or instead of the girl, Weaver will be gunning for us.”
NINE
After coffee in the room the following morning, they headed back to the base, pulling into a McDonald’s drive-through for a Sausage McMuffin with Egg on the way.
Jessie had noticed that Bran’s personal clock ran a few minutes early, which put them ahead of schedule for their ten o’clock appointment with Brigadier General Samuel Holloway, US Army director of Chemical Materials Activity, her father’s direct superior.
After a brief wait, his assistant, a young soldier with a slender build and wheat-blond hair, led them down the hall to his office, which was pretty much standard military, with framed commendations on the wall and family photos on the desk.
General Holloway rose from the chair behind his desk. He was around five-ten, with graying brown hair, very straight posture, and a severe expression. Jessie had read all about him, fifty-six years old, highly decorated, married, with two grown children who each had two kids of their own. He’d been in charge of both US chemical storage depots, Colorado and Kentucky, for the past four years.
“Ms. Kegan. Let me start by saying I’m sorry for your loss.” He turned to Bran. “Captain Garrett, I assume you’re here unofficially, as Ms. Kegan’s companion.”
“Actually, I’m here as Ms. Kegan’s bodyguard. So far there have been two failed attempts on her life.”
The general’s gray-brown eyebrows drew down in a frown. He studied the bruise on Brandon’s cheek and the cut next to his lower lip. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“We believe the attempts have something to do with Colonel Kegan’s death,” Bran said.
“That’s right, General,” Jessie added. “Finding the truth about what happened to my father is the reason we’re here.”
Holloway rounded his desk, giving himself a moment to consider the information. “Why don’t you have a seat and tell me what’s going on.”
“That’s the problem, General,” Bran said as they sat down in the visitor chairs across from his desk . “We don’t know what’s going on.”
“We’re hoping you can help us figure it out,” Jessie added.
Seated once more, the general’s gaze swung to her. “Do you mind if I call you Jessie? Through your father, I feel as if we’ve already met.”
“I would prefer it, General.”
“I must tell you, Jessie, the CID began an investigation as soon as the theft of the munitions was reported. Everything they came up with pointed to your father as the man behind the crime.”
“What about after he died?” she asked. “Has the CID continued to investigate?”
“We need to know who else was involved, so yes, the investigation is ongoing. Unfortunately, so far very little new information has turned up.”
“How were the weapons stolen?” Bran asked. “I mean, physically moved off-site.”
The general’s cool blue gaze didn’t waver.