Page 8 of The Story of Danny Rose

“Nope. He knocked on the door right here.”

At Clara fucking Hill.

Danny had hinted at knowing all sorts of shit about me. Did he know I was gay? That I was into BDSM too?

Neither was anything I was ashamed of, whatsoever, but it wasprivateintel, goddammit. Just because I was no longer in the service didn’t mean I couldn’t get into trouble for being homosexual. Arden should fucking know that. He was bi, himself.

“Tell me everything you divulged,” I said. I didn’t reveal I was thoroughly pissed off, but my voice brooked no argument. No more games. I was done.

He cleared his throat and sobered. “First of all, I didn’t tell him anything until I had confirmed everything he’d toldme. Give mesomecredit, Em. I’m not heartless—nor was I born yesterday. You were, and always will be, my priority in these matters.”

Those last few words loosened a bit of the tension in my shoulders.

“Go on.”

“Before I do,” he replied, “you’re in the phone booth outside Loretta’s shop, yes?”

I furrowed my brow. “Yeah?”

“Good. I’m faxing over Danny’s files to you,” he went on. “You’ll want a refresher, I’m sure.”

Okay, sure, yes, probably. “Does he know about this?”

“No. I’ve conducted my own research, of course,” he answered. In short, he’d called Kane… “Danny asked for three things, Emerson. Your whereabouts this weekend, confirmation about your current employer, and your family status. He had guesses for the last two already.”

That bothered me. Not many knew I worked at Hillcroft, but sure, after a certain number of missions, rumors and whispers got around within our field.

At least it was no secret I was single and had no children.

I wondered idly why Danny cared.

“In return, he was willing to give me three pieces of information about himself,” Arden went on. “Access to his initial file in the Army—Kane provided more than that, though nothing you haven’t already had access to yourself—his criminal record, and his reason for wanting to find you.”

I scrubbed a hand over my mouth as my mind began racing. Granting Arden access to files and records was a bold move by Danny, because he knew that meant others could dig further. Danny accepted that. As for his reason for wanting to find me…?He could easily feed my brother bullshit. At the same time, if I ended up dead, Danny would be the immediate prime suspect.

His criminal records didn’t contain anything exciting. Unless he’d done something after getting out of the Army. I remembered petty theft, though those charges had been dropped. He’d been arrested a few times for assault too. Once because he’d rammed his forehead up a club bouncer’s nose, a couple times because he’d fought geezers who’d gotten handsy with their girlfriends after too much alcohol, and… I’d forgotten one or two.

“Anything else?” I asked tiredly.

“Yes,” Arden said. “Danny is angry, and he is lost. That’s why I agreed to his terms, because I believe he’ll find what he’s looking for with you.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I already know what he’s looking for. He left the Army to go private.” I was more convinced than ever. At least, that was one of the reasons. “He wants me to train him, all because I was just drunk enough to share a story about when I did an extraction in Saudi Arabia.”

Drunk was a strong word, but my tongue had been too loose. I’d been warmed up by fire, dry clothes, and whisky after a frigid week of training. So rather than telling the story as if it were a mate of mine who’d experienced Saudi Arabia—like I usually did, because my goal was obviously to keep these soldiers in the goddamn Army, not to recruit them to PMC groups—I’d slipped and made it about myself.

The day after, Danny had started asking questions.

I’d shot him down every time.

Arden hummed. “You’ve shared more than that, I’m afraid. Danny overheard you on the phone once.”

What?

“What?”

“We won’t get into that.” He turned dismissive. “He just told me you were on the phone once, outside the barracks or something to that effect, and he overheard a conversation. You’ll have to ask him the details. He must’ve misunderstood something.”

I wanted to call bullshit right then and there. While the rest of the world was moving on and buying into this cell phone hype, I only used mine in emergencies—if I even remembered it. Every call I’d made from Fort Campbell had either been from an office or the phones in the yard, and you didn’t accidentally overhear anything there. You eavesdropped like a sneak.

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