Read Online Falcon: The Quiet Professionals Book 3 by Ronie Kendig - Free Book Online
Authors: Ronie Kendig
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cell.” After providing her number, Cassie hung up, smiling. Breathing a little deeper, a little more contentedly.
“… plan with Riordan for contingencies.”
Cassie looked up as Sal’s voice drew closer.
He stalked down the hall with Captain Watters, both of their faces taut with tension.
“Captain?”
Watters stopped and turned as Lieutenant Hastings hurried toward him with a handful of papers.
Cassie seized the opportunity. She went to Sal and touched his arm.
He jerked, his handsome face contorted not in pain. But anger. “What?”
“What happened? Everyone’s—”
“Someone killed the prisoner.” His brown eyes sparked with disgust. “Camera feed wasn’t working while the man was in the facility murdering our only possibility of finding out who was behind the attack.”
“The feed didn’t work?”
“Coincidentally so.” Sal wouldn’t look at her.
She remembered the days when he couldn’t
stop
looking at her. When those brown eyes teemed with admiration and attraction. Not repulsion or disgust.
The phone in Cassie’s hand buzzed. She lifted her phone. “Excuse me.” She stepped away and coded in, receiving the text: O UTSIDE, TWO MINUTES.
Her pulse sped. Slipping out and not drawing attention while Sal was within sight… She lifted her purse from the drawer and started for the side entrance. With a quick glance to verify Sal and his captain were enthralled in conversation with Hastings, Cassie pushed into the night. Almost seven o’clock. The thin veil of night had just draped across the base, but the stalwart lights served as sentries to ward off the darkness, the terrorists.
Though he might resent her and hold Vida’s death against her, Sal knew Cassie Walker better than most people knew their best friends. And she had walked out of the Command building with concern and haste. What had that been about?
He collided with someone and turned. Froze. “Candyman?”
The man’s grin was buried beneath a burly sandy-blond beard. “Glad to see you haven’t forgotten me.”
“What are you doing here?” Dean asked.
“Hastings called me in. Contracting me to work with Raptor because they’re pulling Titanis for another gig.”
Dean scowled. “When were they going to tell me about this?”
“Probably about now,” Candyman said. “Sorry if I popped the lid early.”
With a slap on the man’s shoulder, Dean smiled. “No worries. Glad to have you onboard again. We’re about to head out. You ready?”
The question was probably more about the prosthesis than about the man’s preparedness. “Titanium-man reporting for duty, sir.” Unflappable as always.
“Sal, talk to Riordan and let me know what he says.” Dean broke away from Hastings. “I need to work with Ramsey and General Ames to get things sorted. We need some credible intel to work.” He nodded to Candyman. “I’ll find you after the meeting.”
“Agreed.” Sal jammed his hands in his pant pockets and headed out of the building with Candyman. “I knew that guy was bad meat. Never should’ve left that cell.”
“What happened?”
“Spook got in and killed a witness.” He left and the guy died. “We all knew something was wrong.” Their boots crushed pebbles as they trudged across the gravel path from the Command building.
Sal hunched his shoulders. They desperately needed the tide to swing in their favor. “Too much going wrong,” he mumbled, his periphery catching something.
To the left, two people stood between the USO building and a portable maintenance building. No. Sal slowed. Not just two people. A male and a female. About to divert his gaze, his mind registered the hair of the female. Her build and shape.
Cassie.
Something in his chest backfired like an RPG had hit center mass. The man touched the side of her face. Cassie ducked then glanced over her shoulder. Looked right at Sal.
Anger exploded through him.
She widened her eyes.
Whistling, Candyman nudged Sal. “D’you see
“… plan with Riordan for contingencies.”
Cassie looked up as Sal’s voice drew closer.
He stalked down the hall with Captain Watters, both of their faces taut with tension.
“Captain?”
Watters stopped and turned as Lieutenant Hastings hurried toward him with a handful of papers.
Cassie seized the opportunity. She went to Sal and touched his arm.
He jerked, his handsome face contorted not in pain. But anger. “What?”
“What happened? Everyone’s—”
“Someone killed the prisoner.” His brown eyes sparked with disgust. “Camera feed wasn’t working while the man was in the facility murdering our only possibility of finding out who was behind the attack.”
“The feed didn’t work?”
“Coincidentally so.” Sal wouldn’t look at her.
She remembered the days when he couldn’t
stop
looking at her. When those brown eyes teemed with admiration and attraction. Not repulsion or disgust.
The phone in Cassie’s hand buzzed. She lifted her phone. “Excuse me.” She stepped away and coded in, receiving the text: O UTSIDE, TWO MINUTES.
Her pulse sped. Slipping out and not drawing attention while Sal was within sight… She lifted her purse from the drawer and started for the side entrance. With a quick glance to verify Sal and his captain were enthralled in conversation with Hastings, Cassie pushed into the night. Almost seven o’clock. The thin veil of night had just draped across the base, but the stalwart lights served as sentries to ward off the darkness, the terrorists.
Though he might resent her and hold Vida’s death against her, Sal knew Cassie Walker better than most people knew their best friends. And she had walked out of the Command building with concern and haste. What had that been about?
He collided with someone and turned. Froze. “Candyman?”
The man’s grin was buried beneath a burly sandy-blond beard. “Glad to see you haven’t forgotten me.”
“What are you doing here?” Dean asked.
“Hastings called me in. Contracting me to work with Raptor because they’re pulling Titanis for another gig.”
Dean scowled. “When were they going to tell me about this?”
“Probably about now,” Candyman said. “Sorry if I popped the lid early.”
With a slap on the man’s shoulder, Dean smiled. “No worries. Glad to have you onboard again. We’re about to head out. You ready?”
The question was probably more about the prosthesis than about the man’s preparedness. “Titanium-man reporting for duty, sir.” Unflappable as always.
“Sal, talk to Riordan and let me know what he says.” Dean broke away from Hastings. “I need to work with Ramsey and General Ames to get things sorted. We need some credible intel to work.” He nodded to Candyman. “I’ll find you after the meeting.”
“Agreed.” Sal jammed his hands in his pant pockets and headed out of the building with Candyman. “I knew that guy was bad meat. Never should’ve left that cell.”
“What happened?”
“Spook got in and killed a witness.” He left and the guy died. “We all knew something was wrong.” Their boots crushed pebbles as they trudged across the gravel path from the Command building.
Sal hunched his shoulders. They desperately needed the tide to swing in their favor. “Too much going wrong,” he mumbled, his periphery catching something.
To the left, two people stood between the USO building and a portable maintenance building. No. Sal slowed. Not just two people. A male and a female. About to divert his gaze, his mind registered the hair of the female. Her build and shape.
Cassie.
Something in his chest backfired like an RPG had hit center mass. The man touched the side of her face. Cassie ducked then glanced over her shoulder. Looked right at Sal.
Anger exploded through him.
She widened her eyes.
Whistling, Candyman nudged Sal. “D’you see
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