Page 102 of Nuclear Option (Owens Protective Services)

I glanced back down at the map, guessing we were only ten miles from the property Eva told us about. The exact location wasn’t known since she was guessing based on her memories of that day. Still, it was the best we had to go on.

“If she’s right, the house is just over that hill.”

“Yeah, but who’s waiting for us there?” Jones asked, still looking through the binoculars.

“It’s a risk we have to take. We can’t bring in the whole goddamn company and storm the house. It would draw too much attention.”

“Yeah, but you don’t even know if they’ve expanded their territory over the years. What if this house is part of their territory now?”

“According to the county records, the same old couple lives there.”

“Yeah,” he snorted. “Because a corrupt governor wouldn’t pay off whoever the hell he needed to so his drug operation could expand unnoticed.”

Sighing, I looked over the map again. “We don’t have a choice. Either the two of us go in or we abandon the operation all together. But without that ledger, we don’t have a fucking clue who else is involved. We won’t see the threats coming.”

“How do you even know they’ll let us in? What if they want to see Eva?”

It was something I had considered, but it was too risky. She was safely ensconced back at the motel with Rae and Fox. “We’ll have to take the chance that they’ll trust us.”

“And hope that the ledger is still there?” he asked skeptically.

I turned to him, completely baffled by his attitude. “Since when do you back down from a challenge?”

“Since I decided to live a quiet life,” he retorted.

“Yeah, and that’s going really well for you.”

“It is,” he snapped. “I liked my cabin. I liked going into town and meeting new people.”

“What people?” I asked. “Give me one name.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Mr. Linchfield runs the butcher shop.”

“Yeah,” I laughed. “And you know that because it’s called Linchfield Butcher Shop.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he shot back. “I still know his name.”

“You like the quiet life about as much as any former sniper. I bet you go out hunting all the time.”

“Not even once.”

“Really?” I retorted. “It’s not killing you to get behind the scope and take a shot, to feel the pressure of the trigger against your finger?”

“Not. At. All. I’ve learned to whittle,” he spat. “I’ve taken up carpentry, and I even learned to sew a goddamn button.”

I nodded with a knowing smile. “I bet that button was really satisfying.”

“Fuck you,” he snapped. “It was one of the best goddamn moments of my life.”

I bit back my laughter and returned to scoping out the area around us. “Well, how about I go in and retrieve the evidence. You can stay here and whittle a whistle to let me know if there’s any danger.”

The look he shot me made it clear that wouldn’t be happening. “Like you could handle going in alone. I won’t have Eva coming after me because you got shot trying to be a hero.”

“But you don’t shoot anymore,” I reminded him.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fine, alright? I occasionally take a job here and there.”

I knew it. He was paranoid, but the setup he had at his place was just a little too sophisticated for someone staying off the radar. “What sort of jobs?”

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