Page 66 of Wild Sentinel

I slid the phone back into my pocket and updated JD.

It wasn't long after that when a desert beige 4x4 truck pulled up to the coffee shop. It sure looked like the same truck that shot us off the road in Stillwater.

Two beefy guys hopped out and strutted inside. They were late 20s, early 30s with rugged looks. Both with close-cropped hair, one rocked a horseshoe mustache while the other had a day's worth of stubble. They glanced around the place and clocked us immediately.

They continued up to the counter and placed an order with the barista.

I never got a look at the guys who tried to kill us in Stillwater, nor did I get the vehicle’s plate. But these weren’t artsy fartsy types hanging out in Yucca Flats to find their inner child or contemplate the meaning of the universe. These guys were former military. Killers. No doubt about it. They had done a threat assessment upon entering the building.

Had they followed us here? Or was this a coincidence? More likely, they had access to Brooke’s burner phone’s data. The same intel we had.

After placing their order, they moved to a table by the window across from us and took a seat.

My hand found the grip of my pistol, ready for anything. I didn't have to say anything to JD. He was already onto them.

With a casual glance, I surveyed the truck, looking for confirmation that these were the guys from Stillwater.

Horseshoe looked familiar. I was pretty sure he was in the crowd the night Jonathan Edwards was killed aboard the Mystic Voyager.

According to Brooke’s cell records, she had stopped into this coffee shop at least once a day between the hours of 10 and noon. It was bad tradecraft, but then again, she wasn't a trained professional.

Never get into a routine.

Always change it up.

Always watch your back.

We hung out in the coffee shop, waiting. The two meatheads gave us a few glances. They knew damn good and well who we were. They sipped coffee and didn't have much to say to each other. Despite trying to look inconspicuous, they stood out like sore thumbs.

My phone buzzed with a text. I pulled it from my pocket and looked at the screen. Isabella messaged: [Brooke’s burner is on the grid and Oscar Mike. Heading your way.]

[Keep me posted]

Isabella continued to give me status updates as Brooke approached.

A few minutes later, Brooke pulled into the lot and parked in a space not far from the entrance. As soon as she stepped out of the car, I had confirmation.

Brooke was a smart girl. She had dyed her hair red and wore a ball cap and sunglasses. A sports bra and tight yoga pants drew the eye. She was either on her way to, or coming from, yoga.

I hopped up and rushed out of the coffee shop before the goons.

JD followed.

I flashed my badge to Brooke. "I spoke with Autumn. I'm here to help you. There are two men inside waiting for you.”

Brooke’s face tightened, and her skin went pale. She glanced at the goons in the coffee shop.

By that time, they had spotted her.

Brooke spun around, ran back to her car, and hopped inside. She fired up the engine and backed out of the space.

The goons rushed out of the coffee shop, scrambling for their vehicle.

I put an elbow into Horseshoe’s face as he tried to run past me.

It shattered his nose and staggered him back.

I spun toward him and followed with a body blow that doubled him over. An uppercut finished him off.