Page 66 of Seal of Honor
But before he could gather his thoughts, Marcus spoke again: “Look, I didn’t call to dig at old scars. We’re on the same side here. We want the same thing: Bryson Van Amee home safe.”
Danny sighed and shrugged his shoulders as tension settled there like a heavy cloak. His gaze drifted up the long driveway to O’Keane, who was now watching him with a quizzical look. He sighed again and rubbed his temples. The last thing he needed was O’Keane questioning his loyalty to the Bureau.
He stepped under an overhanging tree at the bottom of the driveway where O’Keane wouldn’t be able to see him. “That fact was never in question.” Sure, Marcus bent rules, but he would never recklessly jeopardize a life. “But I can’t help you. My hands are tied and, honestly, I’m not willing to risk my career. Not even for you.”
“Yeah, I get it,” Marcus said after another short stretch of silence. His voice was carefully modulated and gave nothing of his feelings away. “But at least give me this—do you believe Bryson is still alive?”
He hesitated.
“C’mon, Dan. Help me out. We’re poking around in the dark down here. I wouldn’t be calling if things weren’t way south of fucked up.”
“Yeah, he’s alive.”
But Bryson wouldn’t be that way much longer without some kind of intervention, and the FBI wasn’t doing enough to save him. The realization was like a punch to the gut.
Okay, so maybe he was willing to risk his career, after all. But not for Marcus. For Bryson and his family.
“Listen, I can’t promise anything, but… I’ll call you back. Is this a good number?”
“Yeah. Just save it under ‘asshole.’”
Danny snorted a laugh. “I prefer ‘fuckhead.’”
“Ouch. But fair. I deserve it. Thanks, Danny. I’ll owe you one.”
“I’m going to cash in all of your IOUs someday soon, DeAngelo.” He ended the call and broke into a jog for the last hundred or so yards of driveway until he reached O’Keane’s side. “Sorry about that. Did the HTs call again already?”
“No.” O’Keane arched a brow and nodded toward the phone in his hand. “Is the wife still mad about you canceling the family vacation this weekend?”
For a second, Danny didn’t get it. Oh, right. Marcus’ phone call. O’Keane thought he’d been speaking to his wife.
Yeah, it was probably better the guy continued thinking that.
“No, Leah and the kids went out to the coast without me.” He looked at his phone. Goddamn Marcus. He shook his head and pocketed it. “She was… just checking in.”
CHAPTER 23
CARTAGENA, COLOMBIA
“Bryson works for me,” Mena said and sipped his wine, taking a moment to let that news flash hit home.
No. Even as her mind instantly rejected his words, Audrey’s throat tightened. He wasn’t lying. Why would he? Except maybe to play with her and Gabe, but hadn’t he already gotten his fill of that through the long, agonizing first two courses of the three-course meal? He’d refused to talk about Bryson through the lemon dill crab cake appetizers or the stuffed veal chops main course. He’d ignored Gabe’s repeated demands for answers and instead rambled on like they were old friends catching up as each new dish arrived. The food had tasted like wood to her and was about as appealing, although Mena most certainly had only the best of chefs in his kitchen. She spent more time pushing it around her plate than eating.
Finally, when the classic Colombian dessert of pastel de tres leches arrived, Mena dropped his bomb and then sat back with that Cheshire Cat smile, scrutinizing her face for a reaction.
Unable to swallow, she returned her wine glass to the table with a hand that shook. Gabe’s solid hand landed on her thigh and squeezed in a silent “I’m here” reminder.
That small gesture meant more than any words of reassurance he could have spoken. She grasped his hand under the table and met Mena’s amused gaze. “What does Bryson do for you?”
“Little things.” He flashed a grin. “Nothing too… involved… yet, I assure you, although I admit I was working him up to it.”
Oh God, Bryson. “Why?”
“He was very good at what he did, moving merchandise efficiently in and out of countries. Truly the best I’ve ever met, and I only deal with the best. I cannot suffer fools, which is why I was extremely displeased when Bryson never showed up for our afternoon meeting on Thursday. I never thought him a fool, but I started to wonder if I had miscalculated with him and sent people to… find him.”
“So the day Bryson was taken,” Gabe clarified, “you two had a meeting. Here in Cartagena or in Barranquilla?”
“Here, of course.”
