his lab.”
“Seems the rest of the agents available were out securing the stadium for the game today. Lucky went in on his day off to check on some projects he was overseeing and,” Billy shrugged, “I guess he couldn’t say no.”
“Have you told his family?” KC asked.
Billy and Rose exchanged glances.
“Not yet. We thought we’d get the Team working on it, see what we’re up against so that we can give them some meaningful information,” Rose answered. KC saw the muscles around her eyes tighten and knew that Rose dreaded facing the Cavanaughs.
“I’m in,” Chase said, “just let me grab my coat and shoes.”
“Give me five minutes to get dressed,” KC said, moving to the bedroom. “Call Jay and the minister, will you, Chase?” she shouted over her shoulder.
Chase stepped into a pair of Timberlands that sat beside the door. “Helluva day for a wedding.”
CHAPTER 8
Lucky and Ryan hadn’t taken two steps when he stopped. “Damn, my gun.”
He couldn’t believe he’d almost left the Glock behind. He had his backup piece still in his boot, unfired, but if they encountered any of The Preacher’s men, they’d need all the firepower they could get. He opened the car door, grabbed the forty caliber semiautomatic.
“You know anything about guns?” he asked Ryan who stood beside him, looking down at the semi as if it were a snake or something worse. “I need to clear the chamber, see how many rounds I have left, but I can’t do it with one hand.”
Wordlessly, she took the Glock from him. Keeping the muzzle aimed away from them, she ejected the magazine, popped the round from the chamber and counted the bullets left after she replaced the solo round. “How many does it hold?” she asked, nodding to the magazine.
“Seventeen.”
The light of the interior lamp clouded her face in shadow. “There are six rounds missing.” She looked up, a question in her eyes.
Lucky met her gaze. She was a cop’s widow, he knew what she wanted to know.
“There were four of them, three with guns. They killed Tillburn right off the bat, he didn’t even have time to draw. I hit one of them, saw him go down, don’t know if he’s dead or not. I think I grazed another—there was some blood on his shirt sleeve—but it didn’t slow him down much.” Ruined Whitney’s fancy silk polo, though, he thought with satisfaction.
“Michael never had to fire his gun outside of the range,” she said, re-inserting the magazine and handing the Glock back to him. Her hand was shaking. What did he expect? He kept reminding her of her dead husband.
“Thanks.” He swallowed hard. “This was the first time I ever had to shoot at anyone. But I’ve had people shoot at me before and I killed a man, last month.”
Lucky couldn’t believe he was talking to her about this. He hadn’t even told Chase the whole story about what happened to him Christmas Eve when The Preacher held him captive.
They made him go see a headshrinker down at Quantico before they let him come back to work, but he’d given the guy a watered down version, just enough to get him cleared for duty.
None of his family ever killed anyone in the line. Kevin once shot a man in the leg, that was the most violence any of the Cavanaughs ever had to perpetrate. Until last month.
She closed the car door, and they were alone in the dark again. They began walking down a trail, at least she seemed to think it was a trail, to Lucky’s eyes it was just a few feet of clear space between some trees.
“That must have been difficult,” she said. “Even with all your training, nothing can prepare you for the real thing. The shock, the adrenalin, the lingering doubts and guilt mixed with the feeling that you’re glad to be alive even if someone else is dead.”
He looked up at that. She did understand. “Last month, my cover was blown. The Preacher and one of his men took me from my bed at night, questioned me,
“Seems the rest of the agents available were out securing the stadium for the game today. Lucky went in on his day off to check on some projects he was overseeing and,” Billy shrugged, “I guess he couldn’t say no.”
“Have you told his family?” KC asked.
Billy and Rose exchanged glances.
“Not yet. We thought we’d get the Team working on it, see what we’re up against so that we can give them some meaningful information,” Rose answered. KC saw the muscles around her eyes tighten and knew that Rose dreaded facing the Cavanaughs.
“I’m in,” Chase said, “just let me grab my coat and shoes.”
“Give me five minutes to get dressed,” KC said, moving to the bedroom. “Call Jay and the minister, will you, Chase?” she shouted over her shoulder.
Chase stepped into a pair of Timberlands that sat beside the door. “Helluva day for a wedding.”
CHAPTER 8
Lucky and Ryan hadn’t taken two steps when he stopped. “Damn, my gun.”
He couldn’t believe he’d almost left the Glock behind. He had his backup piece still in his boot, unfired, but if they encountered any of The Preacher’s men, they’d need all the firepower they could get. He opened the car door, grabbed the forty caliber semiautomatic.
“You know anything about guns?” he asked Ryan who stood beside him, looking down at the semi as if it were a snake or something worse. “I need to clear the chamber, see how many rounds I have left, but I can’t do it with one hand.”
Wordlessly, she took the Glock from him. Keeping the muzzle aimed away from them, she ejected the magazine, popped the round from the chamber and counted the bullets left after she replaced the solo round. “How many does it hold?” she asked, nodding to the magazine.
“Seventeen.”
The light of the interior lamp clouded her face in shadow. “There are six rounds missing.” She looked up, a question in her eyes.
Lucky met her gaze. She was a cop’s widow, he knew what she wanted to know.
“There were four of them, three with guns. They killed Tillburn right off the bat, he didn’t even have time to draw. I hit one of them, saw him go down, don’t know if he’s dead or not. I think I grazed another—there was some blood on his shirt sleeve—but it didn’t slow him down much.” Ruined Whitney’s fancy silk polo, though, he thought with satisfaction.
“Michael never had to fire his gun outside of the range,” she said, re-inserting the magazine and handing the Glock back to him. Her hand was shaking. What did he expect? He kept reminding her of her dead husband.
“Thanks.” He swallowed hard. “This was the first time I ever had to shoot at anyone. But I’ve had people shoot at me before and I killed a man, last month.”
Lucky couldn’t believe he was talking to her about this. He hadn’t even told Chase the whole story about what happened to him Christmas Eve when The Preacher held him captive.
They made him go see a headshrinker down at Quantico before they let him come back to work, but he’d given the guy a watered down version, just enough to get him cleared for duty.
None of his family ever killed anyone in the line. Kevin once shot a man in the leg, that was the most violence any of the Cavanaughs ever had to perpetrate. Until last month.
She closed the car door, and they were alone in the dark again. They began walking down a trail, at least she seemed to think it was a trail, to Lucky’s eyes it was just a few feet of clear space between some trees.
“That must have been difficult,” she said. “Even with all your training, nothing can prepare you for the real thing. The shock, the adrenalin, the lingering doubts and guilt mixed with the feeling that you’re glad to be alive even if someone else is dead.”
He looked up at that. She did understand. “Last month, my cover was blown. The Preacher and one of his men took me from my bed at night, questioned me,
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