seat.”
The woman lowered herself into a chair at the end of the table and politely crossed her legs, leaving five empty seats. Gage took the one on the other end.
The man sat in the chair directly to Gage’s right. “Do you know why you’re here, Lieutenant?”
“No idea.”
Gage dropped the “sir.” Fuck this guy if he couldn’t even be bothered to identify himself.
“We’re with the FBI,” the woman piped up. “I’m Special Agent Elizabeth LeBlanc and this is Supervisory Special Agent Gordon Moore.”
Gage watched the blonde talk, but his real focus was Moore, who was clearly the one in charge. The agent was six feet, one-eighty. His demeanor came across as relaxed, but his gaze was sharp.
He leaned back in his chair now and looked Gage up and down. “You ever met an agent, Blake Reid?”
Shit.
“In Texas, two summers ago,” Gage said. Same time he’d met Kelsey. “Why?”
“And do you remember the circumstances of that meeting?”
Gage gritted his teeth. He glanced at the woman—LeBlanc—who had her pencil poised above a yellow legal pad.
“I was in West Texas helping out on an archaeological dig.” This was total bullshit. Gage had been guarding the dig, at Joe’s request, after Kelsey’s team had run into trouble with some of the nastier elements along the border. Joe had sent Gage down there on a quick PSD assignment, maybe thinking a little personal security detail would be a good break from combat.
Turned out to be not much of a break, though, as Kelsey’s workers stumbled into evidence of a terrorist cell trying to infiltrate the United States. Blake’s counterterrorism team was called in to head them off, which—despite numerous fuckups—the feds managed to do.
With Gage’s help.
He stared at the two feds before him now. They were watching him closely.
“All due respect,” Gage said sarcastically, “what exactly is this about?”
The woman looked at Moore, who was trying to stare a hole through Gage. Gage folded his arms over his chest and stared right back.
The woman cleared her throat. “Agent Reid—”
“Blake Reid is dead,” Moore said flatly. “Where were you, Lieutenant Brewer, on Monday night?”
Gage’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t blink.
“You’re telling me someone killed him?”
He nodded.
Shit. Gage glanced at the BlackBerry sitting on the table near the woman. He wanted to call Kelsey.
“Why don’t you walk us through your whereabouts since Sunday?” Moore said, very low-key.
Unbelievable. They thought he was a suspect.
“Lieutenant?”
“I was here Sunday.” Gage’s mind was still reeling and he looked at that phone again. It was Thursday. Why hadn’t Kelsey called him? She had to be devastated. Unless—
“What time did you arrive—”
“Where’s Kelsey Quinn?” Gage demanded.
Moore just looked at him.
“Blake Reid’s fiancée—where is she?”
“ Ex -fiancée, from what we understand.”
Gage slapped the table. “ Where is she?”
Moore stared at him, and Gage’s blood ran cold.
“We were hoping you could tell us.”
CHAPTER 4
“She’s missing ?”
The lieutenant’s alert level went from code yellow to code red in the space of a heartbeat. It was remarkable to see. Elizabeth watched from the other end of the table as the SEAL leaned forward in his chair and got right in the face of a senior FBI agent.
But Gordon seemed unfazed.
“No one’s seen Dr. Quinn since eight-fifty P.M. Monday when she paid the parking attendant at the San Antonio airport.”
Brewer shot to his feet. “That was three days ago!”
“Sit down, Lieutenant. We need you to answer some questions.”
The man stood there, face taut, hands flexing at his sides. He towered over Gordon, and Elizabeth could tell there was some sort of battle going on in his head: Should he walk out of here or cooperate?
He darted a look at the clock and then lowered himself into the chair. But even seated, he looked no less menacing, and
The woman lowered herself into a chair at the end of the table and politely crossed her legs, leaving five empty seats. Gage took the one on the other end.
The man sat in the chair directly to Gage’s right. “Do you know why you’re here, Lieutenant?”
“No idea.”
Gage dropped the “sir.” Fuck this guy if he couldn’t even be bothered to identify himself.
“We’re with the FBI,” the woman piped up. “I’m Special Agent Elizabeth LeBlanc and this is Supervisory Special Agent Gordon Moore.”
Gage watched the blonde talk, but his real focus was Moore, who was clearly the one in charge. The agent was six feet, one-eighty. His demeanor came across as relaxed, but his gaze was sharp.
He leaned back in his chair now and looked Gage up and down. “You ever met an agent, Blake Reid?”
Shit.
“In Texas, two summers ago,” Gage said. Same time he’d met Kelsey. “Why?”
“And do you remember the circumstances of that meeting?”
Gage gritted his teeth. He glanced at the woman—LeBlanc—who had her pencil poised above a yellow legal pad.
“I was in West Texas helping out on an archaeological dig.” This was total bullshit. Gage had been guarding the dig, at Joe’s request, after Kelsey’s team had run into trouble with some of the nastier elements along the border. Joe had sent Gage down there on a quick PSD assignment, maybe thinking a little personal security detail would be a good break from combat.
Turned out to be not much of a break, though, as Kelsey’s workers stumbled into evidence of a terrorist cell trying to infiltrate the United States. Blake’s counterterrorism team was called in to head them off, which—despite numerous fuckups—the feds managed to do.
With Gage’s help.
He stared at the two feds before him now. They were watching him closely.
“All due respect,” Gage said sarcastically, “what exactly is this about?”
The woman looked at Moore, who was trying to stare a hole through Gage. Gage folded his arms over his chest and stared right back.
The woman cleared her throat. “Agent Reid—”
“Blake Reid is dead,” Moore said flatly. “Where were you, Lieutenant Brewer, on Monday night?”
Gage’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t blink.
“You’re telling me someone killed him?”
He nodded.
Shit. Gage glanced at the BlackBerry sitting on the table near the woman. He wanted to call Kelsey.
“Why don’t you walk us through your whereabouts since Sunday?” Moore said, very low-key.
Unbelievable. They thought he was a suspect.
“Lieutenant?”
“I was here Sunday.” Gage’s mind was still reeling and he looked at that phone again. It was Thursday. Why hadn’t Kelsey called him? She had to be devastated. Unless—
“What time did you arrive—”
“Where’s Kelsey Quinn?” Gage demanded.
Moore just looked at him.
“Blake Reid’s fiancée—where is she?”
“ Ex -fiancée, from what we understand.”
Gage slapped the table. “ Where is she?”
Moore stared at him, and Gage’s blood ran cold.
“We were hoping you could tell us.”
CHAPTER 4
“She’s missing ?”
The lieutenant’s alert level went from code yellow to code red in the space of a heartbeat. It was remarkable to see. Elizabeth watched from the other end of the table as the SEAL leaned forward in his chair and got right in the face of a senior FBI agent.
But Gordon seemed unfazed.
“No one’s seen Dr. Quinn since eight-fifty P.M. Monday when she paid the parking attendant at the San Antonio airport.”
Brewer shot to his feet. “That was three days ago!”
“Sit down, Lieutenant. We need you to answer some questions.”
The man stood there, face taut, hands flexing at his sides. He towered over Gordon, and Elizabeth could tell there was some sort of battle going on in his head: Should he walk out of here or cooperate?
He darted a look at the clock and then lowered himself into the chair. But even seated, he looked no less menacing, and
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