Marko answered on the first ring. "We're both here. Talk."
This was usually when Isaac would make some smart ass remark about the other man being a real chatterbox, but nothing about tonight was normal. "There's been a development."
"Shit," Elisa muttered.
That pretty much summed up Isaac's view on everything that had happened since the high point of waking up next to Tamara. By the time he'd brought Marko and Elisa up to speed about what they'd found in Hamilton, Tamara had wandered back into the kitchen to throw a wad of duct tape into the garbage. Up on the second floor, a shower kicked on. He couldn't blame Albert for wanting to wash off the last few hours under scalding hot water.
Tamara’s shoulders were curved forward, her long blonde hair tucked behind her ears, her eyes downcast. Weary. His girl looked worn out and ready for a month of sleep. He couldn't blame her. It was a lot to take.
"We need you two to meet us up in Redfin," he said keeping his attention on Tamara as she sat down across from him. "We're headed out before first light. It's a five and a half hour drive."
"The jet will be back at seven tomorrow morning. That'll give us time for a refill and quick restock." Marko's voice came in clear through the phone laid in the middle of the wood table. "We can be there by nine at the latest."
"Is Tamara there?" Elisa asked.
She straightened up in her chair. "I'm here."
"Tell us about the compound," Marko said.
Tamara sighed and her shoulders dipped farther forward. "It's large. Fenced. Guarded at the gate and at locations around the perimeter. Each family has their own mini-compound situated in a ring just inside the perimeter. Essie will be at Jarrod’s quarters, which is smack dab in the middle of everything."
"That confirms the information we got from the Feds," Marko said.
Isaac's head snapped up. Now that was news. Could be good news. Could be bad. "The Feds are involved?"
Elisa's soft laugh filtered out of the phone. "Let's just say they already had an interest. Seems Fane hasn’t always followed the law when acquiring his guns, or with what he's got stocked inside the armory. If we can bring back a firsthand account to back that up, they'd be mighty appreciative."
"What do you mean firsthand?" he asked. A regular exile mission had enough chances to go sideways without adding a little lookie-lou for the Feds.
"Marko and I go in as possible recruits to check the place out," Elisa said, as if gathering first-person intel on a cult that operated like a militia on crack wasn't a big deal.
Tamara shook her head as if Marko and Elisa could see her. "Jarrod will never fall for that."
"He will when our covers have been in place for months," Elisa said. "Did you really think we've been sitting back without plans A through Z for a possible operation against this dickwad? You both know how it works with B-Squad. We protect our own—even if they don't want the help."
Tamara looked at Isaac, her blue eyes shining. She wasn't crying, but the tip of her nose had turned red and her lips were pursed tight despite the tremble in her chin. He never thought he'd see her speechless but this was it. The ice princess had finally melted. The urge to gather her in his arms was overwhelming. While most women would welcome the touch, he knew it was the wrong move with Tamara. That veneer of frigid untouchability was all that was keeping her together at the moment. He wouldn't take that away from her.
"I don't know what to say," she said, her voice shaky.
"Nothing to say," Marko replied. "It's just the way it is."
"Thank you."
"Let's not get mushy," Elisa said. "I don't do mushy."
Tamara wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. Isaac kept his hands flat on the table and pretended not to notice.
"We'll rendezvous at the diner next to the Idaho Inn before Elisa and I visit the compound," Marko said. "It's in Causewell, thirty miles from Redfin. Far enough to be outside Fane's direct influence, but use stage one precautions, just in case. No direct contact after this—everything goes through Bianca at headquarters. Your reservation for the motel is under Pat and Penny Hargrove. Your cover is that you’re tourists. Be sure to look the part."
A small smile tugged at one side of Tamara's mouth. "Don't worry, we have a secret weapon in the makeover department."
Isaac didn't know what exactly that meant, but he had a really bad feeling he was about to find out. The only thing that kept him from bolting was the woman sitting across from him. Tamara had pulled back from the edge of falling apart. Damn, she was impressive.
* * *
Tamara
Albert could do a makeover in his sleep. A makeunder? That required reinforcements.