Deadly Ties by Vicki Hinze Page A

of us. You kind of remind me of him, Tim,” Mark said.
“We don’t favor each other.”
“You’re the only two guys I know who can look sophisticated in fatigues.”
“Oh, he’s one of us?” Tim’s interest piqued.
“No, you both just have that same sense about you.”
“What sense?”
“Perfect, rich, and probably useless,” Joe cut in.
Mark lifted a hand. “I didn’t say that.”
“Just needling you, bro. You and Brandt have it all together. Now that you’ve gotten your ego stroked, can we press on?” Joe never minced words. He ditched his chewing gum and sat at a bistro table. “I have a feeling I picked a lousy time to quit smoking.”
“No such thing. Any time’s a good time for that.” Sam snagged a chair opposite Joe, spun it around, then straddled it. An Alabama boy, Sam looked a lot like Larry the Cable Guy with his goatee and trucker hat. Yet there was a lot more to him that he didn’t let many people see. He was extremely smart, if not brilliant, and he had uncanny senses. The man never quit.
“Just don’t get any ideas about my pipe,” Tim warned Sam.
“Keep it outside, bud. Smoke wrecks my sniffer.” He tapped his nose, and the ragged edges of his T-shirt sleeves clung to his arm. He tugged his cap down low on his forehead, shadowing his eyes. “Shoot, Mark.”
“Give me a napkin,” Nick told Tim while dragging a carrot through the ranch dressing.
Tim passed it over and Nick took it. Their lanky friend was a loner. Even with the team, he had his chair slightly apart from the others. Nick prized privacy, respecting it in others and demanding it for himself. Lightening up a little could benefit him. But there was nothing light about Nick. His hair and eyes were as dark as his typical thoughts.
Anyone who didn’t know the team would consider them all relaxed, maybe even bored, but Mark knew them well. They were all highly trained, diversely skilled and experienced, mentally alert, and totally engaged.
Sam made a get-on-with-it circle with his hand. “Three Gables, the knockout Kelly Walker, and Tim-like Benjamin Brandt. Got it. Go.”
Mark bit back a smile. “As some of you know, Ben owns Crossroads Crisis Center. Kelly came here after a run-in with Gregory Chessman and NINA.”
“Our NINA?” Sam gulped down a large swallow of drink.
“The Nihilists in Anarchy NINA,” Mark said. NINA’s involvement in all kinds of illegal behavior made it familiar to everyone in the intelligence community. Prevailing thought was that NINA intended to destroy the country from the inside out using a combination of criminal activities to fund its ideology and political manipulations. “Our archenemy. That NINA.”
“That’s what I meant.” Sam grunted. “Wait, I remember these two.” He waved a finger at the people on the slide. “NINA meant to hit Walker but killed Brandt’s wife instead, right?”
Mark felt the familiar stab of Ben’s grief. “Just over three years ago.”
“What was the wife’s name again?”
“Susan.” Tim scratched his ear. “But it wasn’t NINA. Edward Johnson and his partner, Harry, made that hit.”
“Yeah.” Sam exaggerated a nod. “I remember now. There was confusion on it because Gregory Chessman hired Johnson, and Chessman was a high-level NINA operative.”
“That’s right. He’s in jail now.” Mark looked at Sam. “Edward and Harry killed Susan and her son, Christopher.” Collateral damage. Losing them had devastated Ben, and when he discovered his family had been assassinated by mistake, it nearly killed him.
“Despicable, hitting a kid.” Tim sniffed his disgust.
“Aren’t both of the Johnson men dead now?” Joe spoke up.
“Maybe.” Sam shrugged. “They were reported dead.”
“False report?” Tim asked Mark.
“Not totally. One of them is dead. Edward.” Mark motioned with two pointed fingers to his own eyes, signaling he had seen the body firsthand.
The whole situation had been kept pretty hush-hush to avoid jeopardizing the