Page 8 of Dash

“In the letter that your father left for me, he claimed he was murdered,” Dash said. “He also left a slew of documents, including legal authorization for me to exhume his body. So I did.”

“You didwhat?” My jaw dropped and the softening I’dfelt a moment ago vanished, substituted by the return of my outrage. “You exhumed his body withoutmypermission?”

“I was following his orders.” He ground his jaw, looking positively stoic.

“This is ridiculous!” I pushed off the window and managed a few steps to the nearby couch. “You never followed his orders and you two never got along.”

“Don’t I know it.” He exhaled a blustery breath, keeping his dark, shrewd eyes on me. “This time around he roped me in good. There was no way around this.”

“Let me get this straight.” I struggled to understand. “You sent a team to the cemetery. You dug his body out of the earth?”

“Yes.” His admission bowled over me all over again. “Then I ordered a second autopsy from a competent party.”

“A second autopsy?” I squeaked through my strangled throat, struggling to get a hold of my anger. “And you didn’t think to ask me?” When he didn’t answer, I spat, “This is outrageous!”

“I agree.” He nodded, making zero excuses. “Your father was an outrageous man while he was alive. I don’t know how I didn’t anticipate he’d be even more outrageous in death.”

My legs suddenly gave out and I plopped down on the couch. Dash started to come my way. Although I stopped him with an incinerating glare, I still needed to know. “Do you have the results of the second autopsy?”

“I do.” Leaning on his cane, limping minimally, he went to the table, grabbed an envelope from the top of a sheaf of documents, and after crossing the room, handed it to me.

I took the envelope and stared at it, but I didn’t have the fortitude to face the report, not yet. “You’ve grossly overstepped, Dash,” I rumbled instead. “I’m not okay with any of this.”

“I didn’t expect you would be, and yet I had no choice.”

The humility with which he said the words dulled thecutting edge of my rage. Dash had always had a calming effect on my temper. Even now, after everything that had happened, he still did. I leaned back on the sofa, afraid of learning the secrets the envelope held.

“Who did the second autopsy?” I demanded.

“The information I’m about to reveal must remain confidential between us,” he warned.

“Of course, everything Dash does is confidential,” I taunted him, but I also inclined my head. “Go ahead.”

“Do you mind if I sit down?” He pointed his elegant cane to an upholstered chair across from me.

I lifted a hand and gestured to the chair. He made his way to the leather wingback and eased down on it. He never winced or flinched, but I was pretty sure his cane wasn’t a fashion accessory. The idea that he may be in pain worsened my misery. What had happened to him and how bad was he hurting?

“I’m working with one of the world’s premier global security firms.” He sat upright and, bracing his feet on the floor, balanced both hands over the cane’s pewter handle.

“What’s the name of this outfit you’re working with?”

“Battle Brothers,” he said. “BB for short.”

“Are you talking about the wildly successful outdoor gear company ran by the Battleson brothers out of Denver?” I asked, showing off my extensive knowledge of the business world with a tad more bluster than I intended.

“Affirmative.” He nodded. “But there’s more to the story. Behind the scenes, the Battlesons also run a private global security firm that employs former special operators to take on missions no one else dares to tackle. I’m a partner in this venture.”

Fear for Dash’s life tightened my throat. The old terror I’d carried around like a yoke over my shoulders during all the years Dash and Nix had been on active duty returned to haunt me.

“I guess you didn’t learn your lesson after Nix died, did you?” I bit out, unable to corral my dread. “You’re still out there fighting wars, facing IEDs, missiles, and bullets, risking your life. And for what?”

A muscle ticked in his temple and his lips straightened into a tight line. Just as I couldn’t conceal my bitterness, he couldn’t hide his irritation, at me, at my attitude, at the mention of my brother’s name. He opened his mouth, perhaps to say something about Nix, but then closed it. In typical Dash form, he refused to take the bait and talk about his emotions or mine. Instead, he unclenched his jaw and stayed his course.

“At BB, we have a clear purpose and specific objectives when we agree to take on missions,” he stated evenly. “We don’t fight for the sake of fighting. We’re not mercenaries. We fight the battles that matter to us, to our national security. Our goal is to help innocent folks caught in the crossfire and to give peace a chance in the world.”

“Very noble.” I winced inwardly at the aloof, haughty sound of my voice, and yet I didn’t have the willpower to change my tone. “Is this why you now need a fancy cane?”

As soon as the words came out, I could tell by the straight set of his jaw that I’d struck a low blow. I sounded cruel and callous, confirmation that the nearly lethal wound that Dash had inflicted on my heart was far from healed.

---