Chapter 8

8

Jason sank into the plush couch, the leather cool against his skin. The phone felt heavy in his hand as he dialed Bridger’s number. His side ached, a constant reminder of last night’s chaos.

Bridger’s gruff voice filled the air, quickly replaced by the chatter of multiple voices as the call switched to video. The familiar sight of the ranch house kitchen filled the screen, a welcome slice of normality.

“Whoa, Reilly,” Graham’s eyes widened. “You look awful.”

Pretty face drawn in concern, Paige elbowed the much bigger man aside. “What happened?”

Jason ran a hand through his hair. “Long story short: ambushed at the airport, got shot, ended up with some organization called RAVEN.”

“RAVEN?” Paige’s voice hit a pitch that made Jason wince. “You’re with RAVEN?”

“You’ve heard of them?”

“They’re legends. And ghosts. Global experts in disappearing high-value targets. No one’s ever found a RAVEN client. Do you know how hard it is to earn that kind of track record?”

Tai leaned in, his usual happy expression tinged with concern. “What’s up with you going all solo again? I thought you were going to keep us in the loop.”

The unspoken worry hung in the air like smoke.

Guilt stabbed him. “I swear, this was an accident. No plans to vanish. Scout’s honor. This whole deal caught me by surprise.”

Bridger’s scowl softened slightly. “Good to hear. Now, what’s the plan?”

Jason outlined the situation, his team peppering him with questions. As the call wound down, he braced himself to break the last bit of news. “Oh, and about the Pilatus ... it’s in Boise. And, uh, it might need some work.”

Bridger’s eyebrows shot up. “Define ‘some work.’”

Jason winced. “Beyond the bullet holes? I’m not sure.”

A collective groan echoed through the phone.

“We’ll retrieve it,” Bridger sighed. “And start digging into who’s behind this attack. Paige?”

“On it,” she nodded. “I’ll see what I can find about General Munsinger’s disappearance too.”

As the call ended, Jason leaned back, the weight of the situation settling on his shoulders. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something much bigger.

He didn’t want to get ahead of himself, but it smelled like Seven-Five. Of course, after years chasing them—and being chased—he might be guilty of being a tad paranoid.

Phone still in hand, he studied Alex from his perch on the couch. Her back was to him as she worked at her laptop, the sleek lines of the high-tech headquarters a fitting backdrop for her equally streamlined presence. The place screamed modern efficiency, much like its leader.

His gaze lingered on her lithe form. Beautiful. Tough. Brilliant. Hard as diamonds. And beautiful—a fact his brain seemed intent on repeating. The woman was going to be a major pain in his rear end. He could feel it in his bones. Or maybe that was just the gunshot wound talking.

Gabriel shuffled back into the room, making a beeline for the coffee pot. “Has my cousin found her manners yet?”

Jason made a noncommittal hand gesture. “... ish,” he answered, echoing Alex’s earlier brevity. Curiosity got the better of him. “You run this operation with just four of you?”

Gabriel’s eyes lit up. “For sure, no. We’ve got some other operatives—” He caught Alex’s razor-sharp glare and stumbled to a halt. “I mean, uh ...” His gaze dropped to his feet. “Never mind.”

The silence that followed was thick enough to cut with a knife. Jason could practically hear the unspoken reprimand: loose lips sink ships—or in this case, highly secretive organizations. Gabriel’s naiveté was at odds with the slick operation around them. He filed that tidbit of intel away for later consideration.

He leaned back, the leather couch creaking softly under his weight. There was more to RAVEN than met the eye, and he was determined to unravel its mysteries—preferably before they decided to “disappear” him too.

Alex abruptly changed the subject, her voice cutting through the tension. “As soon as you’re comfortable that Munsinger is in good hands, we’ll get you back to your team.”

Jason felt a surge of impatience. “I’m gonna need a lot more info on your plans for him first.”

She shrugged. A tiny motion that created an outsized surge of anger in him. “Then we’ll be leaving you very disappointed.”

Her expression remained impassive, her lack of sympathy palpable.

Gabriel, however, jumped in with a conciliatory tone. “Lexie’s protective of our clients. And RAVEN.”

Despite his frustration, Jason couldn’t help but be impressed by what he’d seen of their operation.

Before he could probe more, he noticed her posture change subtly, her interest poorly concealed as she leaned forward slightly. “So, Redemption Creek. That’s quite an operation you’ve got going. Heard you guys used to be BlackOut Squadron.”

He tensed, memories threatening to surface. “You’ve done your homework.”

“Always,” she replied, a hint of pride in her voice. “But what I can’t figure out is what happened. One day BlackOut Squadron’s the government’s go-to team, the next ... poof.”

“Ancient history.”

“Oh come on,” she pressed, her eyes sharp. “A team like that doesn’t just disappear without a reason.”

“Maybe we got tired of following orders without question.”

“Or maybe you questioned the wrong orders?”

“You always this nosy with your guests?” he deflected, forcing a wry smile.

“Only the interesting ones. So what was it? Corruption? Cover-up?”

Jason felt his patience wearing thin. “Look, what happened then ... it’s in the past. We’re different now.”

“Are you?” she challenged. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re still charging into danger. Still trying to save the world.”

He met her gaze, unflinching. “And you’re not? Hiding people, giving them new lives ... sounds pretty heroic to me.”

Alex scoffed. “I’m a realist. I just know how the game is played.”

“And what game is that?”

“The one where everyone has a price,” she stated flatly.

Jason shook his head. “Not everyone. Some things are worth more than money.”

“Like honor? Duty?” Alex’s tone was skeptical.

“Like doing the right thing,” he countered. “Even when it costs you everything.”

A moment of silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken histories and ideological divides.

He closed his mouth, the specter of Seven-Five looming in his mind. But he wasn’t ready to bare those scars, maybe never would be.

What did it matter anyway? Once Gravy was settled, he’d be gone.

If Seven-Five was involved in that attack, they’d find RAVEN.

If Alex Mendoza wanted to live in her little high-tech bubble and ignore the coming threat, nothing he could do about that.

But he wanted to. And that right there was a problem.