Chapter Nine
Luke
Footsteps sound behind me and I curse at the poorly timed interruption, turning with the expectation that I’ll be joined by Savage and Adam, only to watch Parker walk in the door. Big, broad, and tall, with sandy brown hair and a love for leather jackets, he walks toward me, hands out to his side. “Mr. Beautiful is here. Did you miss me?”
Relief washes over me and I meet him step by step, pulling the bastard into a bear hug. “I thought you were dead.”
He laughs and pulls back giving my shoulder a playful nudge. “Give me some damn credit, man. I’ve got skills and they’re multiplying, but I’m not losing control. I can’t fly a plane. I was stuck with some private pilot who was afraid of a little lightning.”
“Pussy,” I murmur jokingly. “You should have flown the damn thing yourself.”
“Then I would be dead.” His smile fades, his mood sobering. “How many of us are dead?”
“Jake so far. Executed and used for bait.”
“Ana?”
“She’s here.”
He scrubs his jaw. “Thank you, Lord, for that. I need a motherfucking drink.” He walks past me into the kitchen, opens the empty fridge, and slams it shut. “Or not.” He turns to face me. “What do you know?”
“First, where the hell are Savage and Adam?”
“They dropped me off and went to the store.”
In other words, nothing came from any lead they followed tonight, and Savage is—as Savage always is—hungry. I meet Parker on the other side of the island, on a mission for answers. I trust Adam and Savage and there was a point when I trusted Parker, but when trouble brews and originates from the past, no one from that era instantly earns anything but my caution. “What do you know about Trevor?”
He doesn’t even blink. “Besides him being a dirty bastard when he was living? He’s dead and we’re all better for it.”
“How do you know he was dirty?”
“We all knew what happened on that mission. That and I stayed in touch with Jake.”
“When?” I ask because this relationship is news to me. Parker wasn’t one of Kurt’s men. He was one of mine. He served with me. And he never worked with Jake before that dreaded day. He served with me. “And how did you get close to Jake?”
“We had a drink after Kasey’s funeral. He was a mess. I ended up hanging out with him for a few days. As for when he told me about Trevor, he texted me right after his accident. I ditched my phone, but it’s in my call log.”
Something Blake can check and I’ll damn sure make sure he does. “When was the last time you talked to Jake?” I ask.
“About six months ago. We connected around the holidays. He was always trying to get me to come spend them with him.”
As he did me, I think. Jake had my number and Ana did not. I shove away that thought that goes nowhere pretty. Ana should have known how to reach me in an emergency. That she didn’t is on me and shitty.
As for why Jake took to Parker, he liked orphan types, and Parker literally is an orphan. He grew up in a children’s home, a man with no family, his loner status one that made him a wicked soldier, risk-taker, and killer when necessary. It’s the kind of empty man scenario that either makes a man right or wrong, depending on the man. Jake believes it made Parker devoted to our team, which was our family at the time.
Jake was never wrong about people.
And yet, he’s dead, and whoever killed him knew how to get past his many precautions. Sounds like Jake kept that kind of connection to Parker. “Did you ever go out to his place?” I ask.
His lips press together, regret flitting through his eyes before he says, “No. I spent my last holiday buried in a redhead. I figured there was always this year. I regret that decision right about now. What I won’t regret is killing whoever killed Jake. So, when you’re done turning me into a suspect, let me know. I’m in for the kill.”
There’s the Parker I know. A man who was always direct and in for the kill. A man I trusted. I never trusted Kasey or Trevor, both of whom Kurt pushed me to hire. And then there is the film of the attack at Parker’s home. There is no doubt they came for him, just as they did Jake and Ana.
“The dickhead ring leader of these assholes made contact. He wants the package.”
“The package? You mean whatever the hell it was Kasey and Trevor were trying to hand off in Egypt?”
“Seems that way.”
“Two years later? Why now?”
“You tell me. What do you know?” I repeat.
“How to stay the hell out of trouble which brings me back to this hitlist and why now, why two years later? What are we supposed to know that I don’t know? And what does this have to do with Trevor dying? Was that a hit?”
“I don’t believe for a minute that car accident was a hit. I’m not sure I believe Trevor’s dead. The package disappeared with him.”
“Two years ago,” he repeats. “We’re swimming in circles. Was Jake tortured? Did they think he had the package? And if these assholes think we have the package, why didn’t they come for us sooner?”
Was Jake tortured?
It’s a good question that leads to places I haven’t fully considered. “No,” I say. “Jake wasn’t tortured, but his pregnant daughter slept a few miles away. It’s possible they threatened her.”
“And in the end, was she tortured?”
“No,” I say, which actually doesn’t quite add up if these assholes really thought Jake knew where the package was. They’d use his daughter to get him to talk, the way they tried to get Ana to use me to talk.
“Was his daughter killed?”
“No,” I reply.
“That leaves us with only one of two assumptions,” he replies. “Jake knew where the package was, told these assholes, and they killed him so he wouldn’t be around to talk to anyone else.”
“No,” I say. “They think I have the package. And as we stand here talking, I don’t think they ever thought Jake had it.”
“Then why go after him?”
“To make sure I knew they’d kill Ana if I didn’t cooperate.”
Because somehow, some way, all of this is about her.
It’s not a logical thought when these assholes seem to be after me, but my gut says it’s true, and my gut never lies to me.