Page 9 of Rhys

“Not her.” Rhys shook his head.

“How can you be so sure?”

“There was a guy in my unit. You remind me a lot of him, actually.”

“Oh, really? So this guy was a tall, sexy mofo, too, huh?”

That one did make Rhys chuckle a bit. “Funny, but no. He was about five-eight and scrawny as fuck. But he was really smart and crazy good with computers.”

“Yet he couldn’t figure out Vanessa’s real name or whether or not she was involved in the smuggling operation?”

“Everyone involved in the illegal selling and trading was charged and put away. And none of the incarcerated women matched Vanessa’s description.”

“Maybe she turned on them,” Greyson proposed. “Gave up the key players in exchange for immunity.”

“I thought of that, but Hurley…my former teammate…he gained access to the court records.” Despite the fact that they’d been sealed. “Almost everyone they rounded up sang like fucking canaries. According to what Hurley found, there wasn’t a need for a whistleblower because they were all already racing to save their own asses.”

“Okay, so if your girl wasn’t a part of the illegal goings on, then…” The other man let his voice trail off.

Ignoring the reference to Vanessa being his girl, Rhys looked around again, making sure no one was within ear shot “I’m pretty sure she was a part of the group that took them down.”

It didn’t take long for Greyson’s genius brain to connect the dots. “You think she was a spy?”

He focused on the vomit bag in his teammate’s hand before meeting his friend’s gaze once more. “I think she still is.”

“Damn.” Greyson rubbed his free hand along his salt-n-pepper beard. “Is that what tonight was all about? The takedown two years ago?”

“No. This was different.”

“How can you be so sure? You know as well as I do, shutting down an operation that big can create a shit ton of enemies. If someone found out she was the mole inside the aid group, that would put a giant target on her back.”

The man wasn’t wrong. He did understand the art of revenge. After all, Charlie Team had collected their fair share of enemies over the last few years. Still…

“Before she was shot, Vanessa mentioned a plot to develop and sell nuclear weapons to the highest bidder. And she gave me a name.” He lowered his voice further. “You ever hear of Austin Avionics?”

“I’m familiar with them, yeah.” Greyson nodded. “Last I heard, it was the largest, most lucrative avionics company in existence.”

Rhys nodded. “I read up on them while I was waiting for Vanessa to get out of surgery. The company’s owner, Kenneth Austin, was on last year’s list of the top five most successful businessmen in the world.”

“And probably one of the most connected seeing as how they’re based out of D.C.” Greyson’s eyes zeroed in on his. “That much money in that particular town…the guy has to be a player in the quid pro quo games our government likes to play. We go sniffing around based off of nothing more than the word of a woman who may or may not be a spy… I can think of a dozen different ways this thing goes sideways for us all. McQueen included.”

Rhys and Greyson’s boss’s boss was just as connected—if not more—than Austin. But he knew as well as anyone that connections like that only run so deep. Piss off the wrong person, and…

You could end up shot in the middle of a museum parking lot at ten o’clock on a Friday night.

He glanced back over his shoulder at the closed door behind him before bringing his focus back to his friend. “It’s risky, I know. But if she is telling the truth and there are nuclear weapons at play…” He dug a set of keys from his pocket and handed them to Greyson. “These are hers. The nurse thinks I’m her fiancée, so she gave me Ne…Vanessa’s personal affects.”

Damn it, you really need to watch that.

“Fiancée, huh?” The other man smirked.

Ignoring the flippant comment, he gave Greyson the museum’s name. “Her car should still be there.” At least, he hoped it was. “See if Ash can ride with you to go grab it and then drive it to my place. You know the code. Just park it in there and leave the keys in the ignition.”

“You got it.” Grey pocketed the keys. “But what about the cops? Isn’t hospital staff required to call them anytime someone comes in with a bullet wound?”

About that…

“I showed them my I.D.” The special I.D. issued to all R.I.S.C. operatives by Homeland Security. “It was enough to convince her I’d already been in contact with my guy in the Richmond Police Department, and that it’s being taken care of.”

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