"Once we find him."
Crap. "We didn't get him."
Keagan shook his head, thudding his empty coffee mug on the desk. "He slipped out before we could secure the compound. He's got panic rooms and underground tunnels that would blow your mind."
Lucas jerked a thumb toward the closed door. "About the smash and grab, she is the woman from the satellite images."
"I figured as much. She looks like the photo of the target." He creaked back in the chair. "So? Is she your wife?"
"Yes. It's Sara. Sarafina Tesoro." He rubbed the empty ring finger that had never sported a band but somehow he still felt the phantom weight of one anyway. "Quade."
Keagan waited, undoubtedly curious about Lucia. As an agent, he had every right to question him, but still he waited for Quade to offer up the info. The guy wasn't all about blabber like some gossipy types. Keagan understood the value of silence and giving a person a chance to pull his head together.
Odd that they would be alike in temperament when they couldn't be outwardly any more different—the agent with tattoos, spiked hair and bleached tips. Lucas finished his coffee. He'd learned long ago not to judge a person by appearances.
"The child is hers." Time to make it official and reservations be damned. "And mine. Sara was pregnant when I left the country."
"You didn't know." Keagan stated the fact rather than asked. He was good at this.
"No."
"Must be a helluva shock."
Lucas scrubbed a hand along the back of his neck. "Not the easiest work week I've ever had."
"Work?"
Really good. Keagan had a way of picking up on that one word. Lucas narrowed his eyes.
Keagan raised his hands in surrender. "What's your read on her situation?"
"You trust my take?"
Keagan eyed the bandage on Quade's arm with deliberate focus, then looked up again. "Not completely. It's tough to work when your wife's involved. Emotions run high, perceptions are clouded by... well, you know. I have a little experience in that arena."
The agent had met his future wife on a mission when Darcy Renshaw—now Keagan—flew him on a covert op to Guam. While they hadn't been married then, Keagan's point was still made.
"All right. I'll tell you what I know and hope you can make more sense out of it all than I can."
Lucas detailed the compound explosion from his angle and their trek through the jungle—minus his major idiot moments of weakness around Sara. Keagan probed for nuances, leading him through with skilled interrogation techniques. Damn, the guy was adept at twisting a conversation right from the start —
Wait.
Keagan had never fully answered the question about his crews. And what was that about waiting for everyone to be accounted for? "Keagan?"
Clear blue eyes gave away nothing. "Yes, sir?"
"I asked you about my crews and you only said that you'd spoken with your wife and Hunt had assumed command."
"You're good, sir. We could use your attention to detail over in the OSI."
"Answer my damned question." Tension overrode exhaustion with the certainty that Keagan had held something back to ensure the interview went smoothly first.
The agent's chair creaked as he leaned forward, closer as if nearing to brace him for bad news. Lucas knew the studied technique well.
"We got wind of the imminent attack by Padilla and you still weren't back from your walk. One of your crew members slipped out to look for you."
No. Damn it all. Hell, no. Weights slammed down on his shoulders, the weight of lives depending on him, people he'd let down because he couldn't keep his head together when it came to Sara.