Page 7 of Hidden Sins

“What did you find out?” he asked, hoping to move the subject away from Jason’s stunning sister.

Tai liked talking about his drones almost as much as he liked teasing Bridger about women. The guy had enough drones to carpet half the state. And every one was different. Big drones for high altitude surveillance—or ordnance—should the need arise, all the way down to machines the size of house flies for close-in surveillance and just general mischief.

Tai laid back down. “Jason bought himself an old airfield outside of town. World War Two vintage. Mostly it’s a busted up wreck. The runways are trashed. Two of the smaller hangars caved in, but the big one’s still standing. It looks large enough to house a couple B-17s. My guess is Jay’s carved out living quarters there.”

“Security?”

“Standard stuff. Nothing we can’t handle.”

Bridger grunted. “Jason would have made sure of that.” He had his own house secured using equipment and codes known only to his teammates. The past could come calling any time.

“Any unauthorized guests?” he asked.

“Absolutely. At least two. Good-sized, judging from the footprints.” Tai made a face. “They trashed the place. Sloppy work.”

Interesting. He figured whoever chased Jason into hiding had already searched his place, but this confirmed it.

“So tonight?” Tai asked.

Bridger dropped down on the matching double bed and pulled his portable gun safe out from underneath. “Tonight.”

Tai watched while he extracted two pistols. “Expecting trouble?”

“Always.”

“Me, too.”

It’s what had kept them alive so long. All the training in the world was useless if you didn’t listen to your gut. And Bridger’s was screaming.

Because none of this fit. Why would someone come after Jason now, three years after the team disappeared back into the civilian world?

Tai checked the chamber of his weapon. “The sooner we figure out what happened to him, the sooner his sister’ll be safe.”

Too bad they didn’t have more actionable intel. They’d try their best to keep an eye out for any trouble in town, but there wasn’t much more he could do for their friend’s sister until she asked. At least he’d given her a head’s up.

All they could do now was get on with their plan. Spring had just begun. The sun would set early this time of year, and the moon wouldn’t rise for hours. They’d have plenty of time to retrieve Jason’s cryptic file, and search for any evidence that could help them find his trail.

Get in. Get it done. Get out.

Especially before he had to spend any more time around the man’s little sister. Jane Reilly would be a huge problem for a guy like him.

A guy who might still have a price on his head.

4

By the timeJane finished helping her last customer of the day, her feet were killing her. She forced herself to shrug off the tiredness. Her day was far from done.

After one last check of the exits, she shut off the lights, shoved the hammer in her purse and headed her harsh-riding old pick-up east, out into the desert.

Toward Jason’s property.

The old airfield was his pride and joy. He bought it a few weeks after he left the service. She couldn’t see the potential herself, but he had a way of describing the renovations he planned to make that made her believe.

Ice and heat and scouring winds had long since destroyed all but one of the runways, but Jason insisted the place had the potential to drag Redemption Creek into the new millennium. He envisioned a state-of-the-art regional air center, with runways capable of accommodating modern business-class jets.

“Think of the money,” he told her. “All those wealthy folks just dying to explore the tallest peaks in the western US.”

“Think about the cost,” she always responded.

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