Nate ran out. As executive officer, one of his jobs was to keep order and peace. Which included, but wasn’t limited to, breaking up fights. He’d just never had to stop a fight between a soldier and a historian before.
He passed the fighting ring and halted in the office doorway. Vane, all in black, and Sarah, in her pink skirt, faced off in the room. She wore her glasses, clutched her straw bag on her shoulder, and tapped a sandaled foot. Zack stood near the window, arms crossed.
Nate shut the door as Vane said to Sarah, “What did you put in your purse?”
“Nothing that concerns you.”
Vane took a step forward. “I want to see it.”
Sarah refused to retreat. “No.”
Vane lowered his arms, and Nate threw Vane against a cabinet. “What’s going on?”
“Your girlfriend stole something from Kells’s desk.”
Nate pushed Vane again. “She wouldn’t do that.”
“Actually, I did.” Sarah spoke in the most unapologetic voice Nate had ever heard. “And I’m not sorry.”
Nate let Vane go and faced the beautiful woman. She’d buttoned her sweater, but it only emphasized her figure. She’d also reapplied the pink lipstick he’d kissed off earlier. When she shifted, the slit in her skirt opened. He swallowed, hating that his throat felt so dry. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve been tracking me for weeks. Following me and my father. Searching for information about our life. I trusted you, Nate Walker. And while I’d love to know why my life is so important to you, I’m leaving now, and I never want to see you again.”
Nate looked at Vane. Then at Zack. “What is she talking about?”
Zack shrugged.
“Who the hell cares?” Vane pointed at Sarah. “She’s a thief and a liar.”
Sarah scoffed. “Says the man who intimidates women.”
Nate faced her. “Sarah—”
“No, Nate. I don’t want to hear anything from you. I just want to leave.” She picked up a picture frame from Kells’s desk, muttering, “Serves me right for wanting to help you.”
Nate exhaled and balanced his weight on both legs. How many times had he forced order out of chaos? Too many to count. But this situation with a beautiful woman was a first. “No one leaves until I know what the hell is going on.”
“Fuck this, Nate.” Vane’s hands landed on his hips.
“Watch your language,” Nate ordered.
“I don’t need your protection, Nate.” Sarah waved an arm toward the map. “You lied to me, and I’m not interested in what you have to say.”
“Nate doesn’t lie.” Every head turned toward Zack. “I don’t know what you think you know, Miss Munro, but Nate didn’t lie about it.”
Sarah turned the frame so they could see the photo. “Nate told me he worked in a gym.”
Nate groaned. Damn Kells and his stupid camera. It was a photo of them in combat gear outside a Quonset hut at Fort Bragg. Nate was front and center, surrounded by Ty, Zack, Cain, Pete, and six other men who were currently in prison. “We were in the army. Now we work here.”
“I’m not stupid, Nate. See that sign on the Quonset hut? I can read Latin. Not only do I know what De oppresso liber means, I know what it stands for.” She pointed to him, then Vane and Zack. “You’re Green Berets.”
He swallowed hard. In their anger and frustration, they’d let their physical and operational security go. Even Kells was guilty of poor OPSEC. Since she deserved an answer, Nate offered, “We were Green Berets.”
“And now you run a gym?” She shook her head. “You think anyone believes that? It doesn’t seem like any of you work here. The locals run the place while you clean and look busy. You have a map of Afghanistan in your office, and you’ve been collecting photos of me and my father. I’m not believing the past tense, Nate. Something’s going on, and somehow my father and I are involved.”
No one responded.
She scoffed. “You all manage this gym now?”
“Yes,” Nate said.
She put the frame on the desk. “Then who is Iron Rack’s named for?”
He glanced at Zack and Vane. With their matching blank stares, they looked as clueless as he felt.
“Seriously?” She stared at the ceiling. “It’s named after Captain Calico Jack Rackham who designed the Jolly Roger flag and was hanged in Jamaica.” Now she stared at them as if they were throwing spitballs in a high school history class. “Jack’s lover, Anne Bonny, almost hanged as well until she claimed to be pregnant. There’s no record of her execution. I checked the Port Royal library as well as the eighteenth-century Jamaican records in the British Library in London.”
“Nate?” Zack asked quietly. “Why is she talking about pirates and libraries?”
“I think,” Vane whispered loudly, “because she’s a librarian.”
Her sigh might as well have been an eye roll. “I have a PhD in early colonial history, a degree in archival studies from Harvard, and a Master in Letters from St. Andrews University in Scotland. But, of course, that’s old news to you.”
Vane coughed. “Kells said you went to Boston College.”
She lifted her chin. “Undergraduate degrees in classics and history.”
Nate turned to Vane. “How do you—or Kells—know that?”
A flush flooded Vane’s face.
Zack moved until his fist hit Vane’s chest. “Sarah is right? You and Kells have been following her? Digging into her life? Her past?”
Vane lifted both hands. “I’ve no idea how Kells knows anything.”
“Yet,” Nate said, “you and Kells were talking about Sarah.”
Vane gave a short nod.
“They’ve been following both of us.” Sarah dropped her bag on Kells’s desk and retrieved a file folder. From that, she handed Nate two photos. One of them sitting together outside the SPO. The other of the two of them in the police station moments before he kissed her.
He faced Vane. “What the fuck is this?” The words exploded before Nate could stop them.
“No idea, brother.” Vane shoved his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and put on the poor me act that Nate despised. “Kells was talking about Sarah the other night, totally out of context. He was stressed and needed to vent.”
It always irritated Nate when Vane threw out the Kells-and-I-are-so-fucking-close-we-sit-around-and-confide-in-each-other card.
Zack took the photos. “This is bullshit.”
Agreed. But right now Nate’s main concern was Sarah, who, while she had every right to be pissed, might be in even more danger than he realized. Why else would Kells have her—correction, them—followed?
Sarah glared at all of them. “I’m leaving.”
“No, you’re not.” He checked his watch. “I’m changing the chore chart. Zack, take Vane to the tunnels. We’re behind on getting them cleared. Especially the one leading to the club.”
Vane sputtered. “I’m working the front desk.”
Nate ignored Vane. “Luke has the desk until Pete is done with his class. And tell Cain he’s on housekeeping duty until I return. Ty has grocery and dinner duty tonight.”
“Got it.” Zack handed the photos to Sarah, grabbed Vane’s arm, and dragged him from the room.
Once alone, Nate released a deep breath and focused on Sarah. Without the men in the room, she seemed smaller. Maybe because she wasn’t trying so hard to look fierce.
She put the photos in the file and returned it to her straw bag. “I’m not sorry I took that file—am taking the file. And I’m mad that you lied to me.”
“I know.” He shoved his hand in his pockets. “You mentioned there were other photos?”
“Yes.” She spoke softly now. Less commanding, less certain. A few minutes before, her eyes had fired lasers; now she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I need to leave. I’ve got things to do.”
“I have an idea. We go to neutral ground. You show me the file, and I promise to answer your questions the best I can.”
After a long pause, she said, “My father’s house.”
Was everything with her going to be a negotiation? Until now, he’d never truly appreciated that his men did what he told them to do. There might be fussing but never rebellion. He took her hand, and when she didn’t run, he squeezed. “Alright.”
She removed her glasses and watched him from beneath those dark lashes. “Did you know about the photos?”
“No. My not knowing about the photos means I’ve been betrayed also.” Her brown eyes shimmered. She’d been hiding the fact that she was about to cry, and that sent his heart into a tailspin. “I don’t like being betrayed.”
“Then let’s go.” She yanked her hand out of his and led the way.
“Sarah.” When she turned, he said, “Wait at the front desk. I’ll be right back.”
“Hurry.” She adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “I have a million things to do.”
While she waited, he ran upstairs to the room he shared with Pete to grab his coat and his gun. Nate always felt better when he carried his own weapon. When he met her downstairs, Sarah walked out. He followed, texting Luke. Tell Ty to get new burner phones today. And don’t tell Kells where I’ve gone.
I know nothing, Luke texted.
None of us do, brother. None of us do.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, Zack entered the Savannah Police Department. He’d left Vane in the tunnels with the excuse that they needed water and more garbage bags. Not a lie, but not the entire truth. Considering what Zack had learned about Kells having photos of Sarah and Nate, partial truths seemed to be part of this new mission. A situation Zack didn’t like. The further away he and his men moved from their time as active-duty Green Berets, the less their unit appeared to value virtues like honesty and patience.
Zack still wasn’t sure about trusting Detective Garza. Why would a city cop cover for a group of ex-soldiers living covertly in his city? But since Nate and Pete trusted him—and those two trusted few people—Zack was willing to go with it.
Once inside, he double-timed it up the stairs, rounded the corner, and entered chaos. Groups of people stood around whiteboards while others sat with heads down at tables. He found Detective Garza seated at his desk, typing on a laptop.
“Detective Garza?”
Garza raised his head. “Yes?”
Zack held out his hand. “I’m Zack Tremaine. Nate’s friend.”
Garza blew out a breath. “Right.” He shut his laptop and led the way through furniture that must’ve been new in the nineteen fifties. He stopped at a vending machine and punched the button for two Cokes. “You okay with sugar and caffeine?”
“Lunch of warriors.”
Garza handed him a cold can and opened a door with a #2 painted on the outside.
“Is this necessary?” Zack asked as he took a seat at the table across from a one-way mirror.
“Yes.” Garza hit a button on the wall. “There’s no one watching or listening.”
“Is that a problem here?”
“It hasn’t been, but I’m not taking any chances.”
“One might think you’re afraid.”
“One might think I’ve seen a man bow.” Garza opened his can and drank the initial fizz. “Calum told me you know that Nate and Pete met a Fianna warrior.”
Zack raised his can. “Just found out.”
“Is that a secret you can keep?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“We all have a choice.” Garza sat in a metal chair and kicked back until his ankles were crossed on top of the table. “Question is what will yours be?”
“I’m choosing to support Nate.”
“Even if it means not telling your CO?”
“For now.”
“Huh.” Garza took another drink before asking, “What do you need?”
“How much do you know about what happened to Nate before he arrived in Savannah?”
“I know about your unit’s ambush in the Pamir River Valley and being accused of the Wakhan Corridor Massacre. I’m also aware that the two ambushed A-teams were sent to a POW camp for two years. Once rescued, they came home to be convicted of murder and other things and sent to prison.”
Zack exhaled and took a long drink of the sweet soda.
“Then,” Garza continued, “two weeks ago, the A-team that’d been in the command center during this entire mess—your team—was dishonorably discharged but not sent to prison.”
Zack stared at the green linoleum floor. Garza knew more than Zack realized, but that made this easier. “What do you know about Nate specifically?”
“After being rescued, instead of being sent to one of the army’s correctional facilities, he went to a military prison hospital in Maine where they treated him for headaches, delusions, and seizures.”
“Did you know that Nate’s release was temporary?”
“No.” Garza put his can on the table. “I didn’t know that.”
“Apparently, whoever helped Kells get Nate out of prison could only do so on a short-term basis. Nate returns to the prison hospital on Sunday.”
Garza dropped his legs and sat forward, elbows on his thighs. “What do you know about Kells’s contact?”
“Nothing. Kells is close-mouthed about everything. I was hoping if we could ID this contact, I could talk to him, see if there’s a way to keep Nate out of prison. Cut a deal.”
“And you don’t think Kells has already thought of that?”
“Like I said, Kells doesn’t share. So I don’t know what to think.” Zack finished his soda and put the can on the table. Seeing those photos of Sarah and Nate in Kells’s office had brought up a whole new set of questions, not the least of which was who was telling the truth and who was lying. “Pete told me you have contacts who were able to find out classified black ops information, a few weeks ago, when you first met Pete and Nate. You did background checks.”
“I did due diligence. It’s a good thing, too. Otherwise I wouldn’t have realized the importance of staying away from men who bow.”
“Can you help?”
“I can make a call.”
Good. “There’s something else. I just found out that Sarah Munro—”
Garza raised his head, eyes wide. “The historian from the Savannah Preservation Office?”
“Yes. Someone was following her and Nate two weeks ago, taking photographs.”
“Shit.” Garza ran a hand over his head. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”
“I’ve no idea who’d do that. Or why. The only thing I do know is that my CO had the photographs in a file in his office.”
“Could Kells have hired the tail?”
“I don’t know.” Zack’s voice barely came out above a whisper. Maybe because he didn’t want to hear the suspicions rolling around in his mind.
“Hell.” Garza ran a hand over his hair until short strands stuck up all over. “I’ll see what they can find out about Kells’s contact. In the meantime, I’ll call Calum Prioleau. Nothing happens in this city without his knowledge.”
“And he’ll keep quiet?”
“For Nate’s sake?” Garza nodded. “Absolutely. Calum owes Nate…everything.”
Zack exhaled deeply for the first time in hours. “I need to get back to the tunnels.”
A knock sounded, and Garza opened the door. A cop dressed similarly to Garza stood outside. “Sheriff Boudreaux just called.”
“I’ll be right there.” Once the man left, Garza said, “That’s Detective Elliot. He’s not a fan of Nate’s.” Garza collected both cans. “Stay away from him.”
Zack followed Garza to his desk, grateful for the cooler air. “Thanks for the warning.”
“I’ll call you as soon as I hear something.” Garza tossed the cans into the recycling bin. “You have my number?”
Zack scrolled through his phone. Nate had programmed in numbers, many with unusual monikers. “Are you Copper?”
“It’s pronounced Coppa. With a New York accent.”
Zack laughed. “Aren’t you from New Jersey?”
Garza clapped Zack’s shoulder. “If your men don’t fuck up my city, I’m going to like you.”