Page 8 of Rhys

“Okay, but…you gonna tell me what this is all about?”

“Would if I knew.” Rhys shoved his hands into his pockets, refusing to acknowledge the blood still stuck beneath his short nails.

God, he needed a shower…and a stiff drink. And not necessarily in that order.

“Everyone’s entitled to their secrets, brother.” Greyson stared back at him. “But this isn’t something you can hide forever. A woman was shot. While you werewithher. You know that shit’s gonna get back to West.”

Trace West was the man in charge of Charlie Team, a division of RISC. Short for Rescue, Intel, Security, and Capture, RISC was the black ops security company Rhys and Greyson both worked for, which made West their boss.

Based in Richmond, Charlie Team was one of four RISC teams currently active in the United States. Alpha and Bravo worked out of Dallas, Charlie Team covered the east coast, and Delta Team’s headquarters were in Chicago.

There was a rumor that Jake McQueen—RISC’s owner and former leader of Alpha Team—was working to put together a fifth office somewhere down south. Echo Team, or so it was said. Although the formation of such team had yet to be confirmed.

“I know.” Rhys nodded. Waiting for a pair of doctors to pass by, he made sure the area was clear before giving his teammate the bare minimum. “I’m going to give Trace a call and fill him in soon, but I…I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Because you want me to run prints from this can.”

“Yes. And pull the footage from the museum parking lot. I saw cameras mounted on some of the light poles when I pulled in.”

Greyson studied him a bit longer before speaking again. “This woman…who is she to you?”

Once upon a time,that question would’ve been so easy to answer. But now…

“When I knew her, she went by the name Vanessa Marsh.”

“I take it that’s not her real name?” Greyson shot him an expectant stare.

“Hence the prints.” Rhys tipped his head toward the bag in his teammate’s hand. “And before you ask, no. I don’t have a clue what her real name is.”

A stretch of silence passed before his teammate said, “Okay, hold up. You’re gonna have to back up a few dozen steps. Let’s start with how you know this woman.”

I don’t know her. That’s the problem.

But Grey was right. The man had answered his call and then rushed down here, no-questions-asked, and now he was being asked to run prints on a woman without any background intel. He deserved to know the truth.

The pertinent parts, anyway.

“We met during my last tour in Afghanistan,” Rhys explained. “My unit was stationed just outside of Kabul, and Ness”—he cleared his throat—“Vanessa was working there as part of a volunteer aid group.”

“Let me guess. You two get close?”

“It wasn’t anything serious.”Liar.“But yeah, we hit it off right away. Started hanging out when we could, you know the drill. Then I go to her hotel one day to take her to dinner only to be told she’d checked out that morning.”

“She just left? Just like that?”

“Just like that.” His chest tightened with a familiar ache that shouldn’t still exist. “That was two years ago. I hadn’t seen or heard from her since. Not until tonight.”

Greyson grew quiet, and it was obvious he was processing everything Rhys had shared. Finally, after several seconds of silence, the big guy spoke up again.

“So you go to Bumfuckistan, hook up with a beautiful woman, and she ghosts you. Then tonight, completely out of the blue, that same woman calls and asks you to meet. And when you do, she ends up shot,e and now you’re having me run that same woman’s prints to figure out who she really is. That about right?”

“That’s the gist of it, yeah.” Rhys blew out a breath. “Look, it’s a long story that I really don’t have time to get into it all right now. But the short of it is, that woman lying unconscious in that bed?” He shook his head. “She isn’t who she said she was.”

“Meaning…”

“Meaning one minute Vanessa was in Kabul, and the next she’s gone. Then, that same night, we hear about a corrupt aid coordinator who’d been using the group as a front to smuggle shit into the country and then sell it to the highest bidder. You can probably guess which side the asshole’s buyers came from.”

Greyson muttered a low curse. “You think she was working for the enemy?”

---