Page 42 of The Maverick
"Got some things to tie up here," he said. "Then we'll go. Dinner on the plane."
"Mm. Okay."
She put her hand on the back of his neck and kissed him on the cheek, brief and soft, and stood up and turned back to me like the lap had been a parking spot.
"Tommy," she said—he'd given her my name without me noticing—"I hope I'll be seeing you around."
"Likewise, Ms. Montgomery."
She rolled her eyes at theMs. Montgomeryand walked out and closed the door behind her, and I sat back down and looked at Lucas.
Lucas picked his bourbon back up.
He didn't explain.
I waited a polite three seconds.
"So. You and?—"
"Married," Lucas said. "Happily."
"Huh."
"Mm."
"Married to Lexi Montgomery?"
"That's the one."
"Huh."
"You said that already."
"I'm savoring it."
He smiled into his glass.
I sat with it. I didn't get rattled, and I definitely didn't let the wife of my host rattle me, but I'd been hit twice in twelve hours by women I hadn't briefed for, and the day was wearing on me. I took another sip. Buried the moment under it.
"Tell me about my brothers."
The smile fell off Lucas's face by degrees. Not a flinch. A slow, professional reset. He set the bourbon down. Leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"Wyatt and Grant were briefly in FBI custody."
"Briefly."
"It went south. They're safe. But."
"How south?"
He picked his words.
"They were extracted from a federal building in a fake escort. Two SUVs, men in jackets that said FBI, badges that scanned. Drove them out of downtown like they were being moved between facilities. About fifteen minutes in, the lead vehicle pulled off. Your brothers read it before it broke and put four guys in the dirt."
"Four?"
"Four contractors. None of them were FBI. We think."
