Page 56 of Renegade

“That’s fine. Just let me know where and when,” Mark said.

“Okay…will do.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

“Okay then. How about ten?”

“Ten would be fine, Raven. I look forward to seeing both of you.”

“See you then,” I said before hanging up. I glanced at Miguel who’d started scrolling on his phone. “Where can we meet him that’ll be secure? And what if someone follows us?”

He glanced up with a smile on his face. He turned his phone to face me so I could see the listing he’d Googled while I was talking.

“Really?” I asked, reading the screen.

“Really.” He sounded very sure, and I wondered why I hadn’t thought about it before.

Chapter Eighteen

RAVEN

At ten o’clock, Miguel and I walked into the lobby of PIRATE.COM, recording studios on Sunset Boulevard in Silver Lake, about fifteen minutes from our house. Mark had agreed to meet us and bring back up. We didn’t know who he was planning on bringing with him, but we’d guessed he had news, or he wouldn’t have wanted to bring anyone else.

We’d armed ourselves before leaving the house, and I couldn’t help but keep watch out the windows of Miguel’s older model F-150 as he drove. We’d intentionally taken the older truck, knowing it would better blend in with the other cars on the road. Mine was larger, nearly new, and people tended to watch for flashy cars. No one paid old Fords much attention on the road. Even though I wasn’t trained in how to spot someone who might be following us, after a few minutes, I was pretty sure no one was. If they were and planned on listening in on the conversation we needed to have with Mark Evans, they were going to be disappointed. Miguel had chosen this location for a very good reason.

Five minutes after we arrived, Mark walked in followed by Jarrett, Thayne, Mac McCallahan, and another man I’d never seen before. He was as tall as the rest—except for Mac, who towered over them all. Mark carried a laptop under his arm. I noticed Miguel was staring at the tall man with recognition in his eyes.

“Thorne?” Miguel was frowning, sounding shocked as he seemed to recognize the stranger.

The man came forward, walking right over to Miguel and throwing his arms around him. I looked on, shifting uncomfortably where I stood. I didn’t care who this Thorne was; I didn’t like a big, nice-looking male stranger hugging my partner. Miguel returned the hug and then quickly put just enough distance between them to hang onto his forearms in a tight grip. Thorne returned the clasp with one of his own.

“Trigg Huerta…as I live and breathe,” Thorne said. “Thought I’d never see you again.”

When someone cleared their throat, I turned to Mark, and walked over to him, holding out a hand. “Mark, I’m so glad you’re here.”

He shook my hand, giving me a big smile. His dimples under the gray stubble of his beard, made him look remarkably like his son, Jarrett. “Nice to see you again, Raven.” He glanced around the lobby of the recording studio and chuckled before looking over at the others who were all exchanging handshakes with Miguel. “This was a stroke of genius. Our own little SCIF, right here in Silver Lake,” he said. “I should have thought of it myself.”

“He’s smart like that,” I said, wanting to crow with pride at Miguel’s soundproof environment idea, just like a SCIF where no one could overhear what was being said with a parabolic microphone. All Federal offices had them, but Miguel had decided that walking into the FBI to meet with our friends, wasn’t a good idea if we were being followed. If it was someone from the CIA, they’d surely recognize their former Associate Director of Military Affairs walking into the building.

I gave my partner an affectionate glance before walking over and exchanging handshakes and greetings with the others.When I turned to the dark-haired Thorne who clearly knew Miguel, I hesitated, clearing my throat. “We haven’t met,” I said, trying to keep my voice friendly, though, it was difficult.

“Let’s take this party inside,” Miguel said, interrupting.

My eyes widened. “Of course.” I walked over to the wide-eyed receptionist who was sitting behind her desk, gawking at all the huge men standing in the lobby. I put on my best smile as I spoke to her. “Hi there. My name is Raven Mathis.” I pointed at a large blotter on the desk. “We called earlier and made an appointment for one of the podcast studios.”

She dragged her gaze away from Mac who was looming over the desk beside me. The man stood nearly six-foot-eight, taller than any man I’d ever seen. He had shockingly bright orange hair cut in a crew cut and more freckles than stars in the sky dotting his pale skin. He was the epitome of a gentle giant who was also a former Green Beret, and I liked him very much.

She looked at me and then down at the blotter, finding my name where she’d probably written it earlier. “Yes,” she said, standing up. “Just for the hour, right?”

“Yes,” I replied, following her as she walked to a closed door and then opened it with a key. “Come on back.”

We followed her into a hallway, crammed with closed doors, some with lit signs above them but not all. She led us to one a few doors down and turned back to me. “Will you need an engineer?”

“No, like I said on the phone. We have our own. Thank you.”

She eyed us up, probably checking for equipment but when she saw we had none, she shrugged. “Sure, no problem,” she said, opening the door. “Here you go…one soundproof podcast studio.” She led us inside and pointed to the tables filled with equipment. “The recording equipment is there, and no onewill disturb you.” She pointed back at the door. “Once you’re ready, flip the switch and the light outside will come on. No one will bother your recording until you turn it off again.” She demonstrated and the light flicked on and off. “Will there be anything else?”

“No, and thanks very much,” Miguel said, walking over to her, wearing his most charming smile.

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