Wait for Morning (Sniper 1 Security #1) (11 page)

Yeah, safe. That damn sure hadn’t been the
case eighteen fucking months ago when Conner’s high school sweetheart had been
murdered in cold blood outside the coffee shop on the ground floor of the
Sniper 1 building—a fucking parting shot from one of the drug trafficking
fuckers they’d taken down in a sting down in San Antonio in their attempt to
take back a kidnapped child.

And now, because of the life that they all
chose to live, not only
was
Shelby without a mother,
she had to deal with her father who could hardly force himself out of bed most
days.

“She still having issues in school?” Frank
asked.

Casper nodded, looking away. “She’s doing
better, though. Liz is spending a lot of time with her. Shelby’s also seein’
Dr. Dawson.”

Dr. Lydia Dawson was the therapist they’d
all seen on more than one occasion over the years. Although Casper had never
been keen on opening up to anyone, he’d agreed that in their business, there
were times it helped. Not that he’d admit that aloud, but he’d at least
accepted it.

Liz returned, walking into the room
carrying a tray with three mugs and a carafe of coffee. Casper quickly made his
way over to her, taking the tray and setting it on the table in the center of
the room. Liz gifted him with another smile and proceeded to pour coffee into
each mug.

“You’re talkin’ about Shelby?” Liz inquired,
handing him a cup and taking a seat beside Frank.

“Among other things,” Casper said, hating
that his own mental anguish was beginning to reflect in the way he spoke to his
family. He was just so fucking angry most of the time, so fed up with all the
bullshit that he was having a hard time coping.

“Lydia said she’s opening up some,” Liz
told Frank. “It’s gonna take time.”

“Is Con around?” Frank turned to Liz.

Liz’s eyes were sad as she said, “He’s
home right now, but that’s unusual. We don’t see him much these days. Shelby’s
stayin’ with us for the foreseeable future. He’s doin’ his level best to stay
busy.”

And by busy, Liz meant Conner was staying
gone. Conner needed to be taking care of his daughter, not out trying to get
himself killed.

“So, is Marissa home for good?” Liz asked,
her question directed at him, causing Casper to turn and face her.

“For the time being, yes.”

“You think that’s a good idea?”

“I think the whole situation is fucked up,
honey,” Casper told her. “I don’t know what I think anymore.”

“And the mole? Have y’all figured out any
more on that front?”

Casper’s hand tightened around his coffee
mug, and for a brief moment, he envisioned the damn thing shattering in his
fist. A fucking mole. He hated the idea of a spy in their midst, but he had to
admit that as soon as Trace had mentioned it, Casper hadn’t been able to brush
it off the way he’d wanted to. Too damn many coincidences. And Casper,
personally, didn’t believe in coincidence.

“Nothing yet,” he told her, glancing
between her and Frank. “And that doesn’t go any further than this room.” Not
that he had to tell either of them that, but saying it aloud made him feel
better.

Luckily for him, Liz had been putting up
with his moods for long enough that she simply nodded her head and turned to
Frank, purposely changing the subject.

While the two of them chatted, Casper
returned to his position in front of the window, staring out into the darkness
once again. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, but he had that niggling
feeling that something was going to happen.

And soon.

“Mr. Trexler, there’s a Dan Duchein here
to see you,” Jayden Brooks, their always pleasant receptionist, called through
the intercom, causing Ryan to stop talking to his father and narrow his eyes.

“Give me three minutes, then send him in,”
Bryce replied.

“Who’s Dan Duchein?” Ryan questioned
suspiciously.

“ATF.”

Wait.
What?

Reprocessing what his father just said,
Ryan tried to figure out whether or not he was hearing things. He didn’t think
he was, and that was the damn problem.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ryan scowled
at his father, disbelief ringing in his tone. Sitting up straight, both feet
planted firmly on the floor, he addressed his father with a hard glare. “And
when were you plannin’ on tellin’ me that you had a meeting with him?”

“Right now,” Bryce said sharply. “Get
Casper and Trace.”

Ryan didn’t hesitate before getting to his
feet, opening his father’s office door, and yelling down the hall. Less than
fifteen seconds later, Casper and Trace were joining them, and Ryan was back to
glaring at his father.

“What’s up?” Casper asked, closing the
door behind him.

“We’re meeting with the ATF. Right now,”
Bryce imparted, sounding as though that wasn’t a big fucking deal.

It was.

Shit.

Ryan watched as Trace’s eyebrows launched
into his hairline, but before the other man could say anything, Bryce added,
“And no, before you ask, I don’t think it’s a coincidence. But I do want to
hear what he has to say.”

Ryan wanted to grill his father on how
this meeting had been set up, but he didn’t have a chance. The door opened, and
Jayden peeked in, smiling before pushing the door wide.

The man who joined them looked like a fed.
Sort of. Ryan hadn’t expected him to be sporting a fancy suit, but that was
exactly what he was wearing. It was tailored and pressed, and he appeared more
suited for a Fortune 500 company than a branch of the federal government.

“Please, have a seat,” Bryce motioned to
the guy. “This is Casper, Trace, and RT.”

“I know who they are,” Duchein said
caustically.

“Do you now?” Trace inquired.

“I’m well versed on Sniper One Security,
Mr. Kogan.”

“And why’s that?” Casper shifted in his
seat as he peered at the stranger.

“It’s my business.”

“How so?” Now Ryan was curious.

“I didn’t ask for this meeting so that I
could be interrogated,” Duchein bit out.

“Then why
did
you request this meeting?” Bryce asked, drawing everyone’s
attention to him as he casually leaned back in the high-back executive chair.

“I recently heard that you’ve had a little
trouble with your daughter,” Duchein offered.

Well, that was an interesting way of
putting it.

Ryan didn’t flinch, but Trace did, leaning
forward in his chair and putting his elbows on his jean-clad knees. “What kind
of trouble did you hear about?” The curiosity in Trace’s tone matched Ryan’s
own.

“I should be the one asking questions,”
Duchein declared, his tone commanding, as though the asshole had a chance in
hell of taking control of this meeting.

Ryan fought the urge to laugh.

Barely.

“Please,” Casper snarled, “why don’t you
enlighten us then?”

“It’s no secret that your daughter”—the
guy pulled a small notebook from his pocket and flipped it open—“Marissa Trexler,
was a source for an investigation into the Adorite family.”

“Is that right?” Bryce’s eyebrows formed a
V as he stared intently at Duchein. Ryan was impressed with his father’s
ability to not act surprised.

“A RICO investigation, Mr. Trexler. Do you
understand what that is?”

Trace spoke up. “Refers to the Racketeer
Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act, enacted in October of 1970, providing
criminal penalties for persons who engage in patterns of racketeering activity
or—”

Ryan cut Trace off. “Does that answer your
question? I think we’re well versed,
Mr.
Duchein, so the answer is yes.”

“Continue,” Bryce said irritably, waving
his hand as though bored with the discussion already.

“From what we’ve learned, Ms. Trexler was
doing a little investigating on her own. And since we’re currently pursuing
charges against the Adorite family, we’d really like to talk with her.”

No one said a word.

“We feel that she may have information
that could lead to the takedown of the Adorite family, particularly where their
illegal arms trafficking is concerned.”

“Alleged,” Trace inserted.

“Excuse me?”

“Alleged illegal arms trafficking,” Trace
clarified. “We’re quite up to speed on the status of your investigation.
However, what makes you think Marissa’s involved?” Trace asked.

“She was identified as a person of
interest after she attended a number of events spearheaded by the Adorites.”

This wasn’t news to Ryan or anyone else in
the room. She’d already given up that much information; however, Duchein didn’t
seem to know that.

“And what would you like to ask her
specifically?” Bryce asked.

“We don’t feel that’s of your concern at
this time,” Duchein stated simply.

“See, Mr. Duchein,” Bryce asserted as he
leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk, “that’s where you’re wrong.
Every
thing that has to do with my
daughter is of my concern. And until you care to share the details, I’m not
willing to let you meet with her.”

“With all due respect,
sir
,” Duchein stated, his gaze locked
with Bryce’s, “that’s not completely up to you. We happen to know that Ms.
Trexler is back home at this time. Considering we’ve been looking for her for
the past year and she’s been nowhere to be found, we feel that bringing her in
immediately is critical.”

“I disagree,” Bryce countered.

“At the risk of repeating myself, that’s
not entirely up to you,” Duchein argued, his face turning an interesting shade
of red.

Ryan was pretty sure this asshole was
hiding something. And he wanted to know what that was.

□«»□«»□«»□

If it weren’t for the fact this
condescending asshole worked for the federal government—if, in fact, that was
really true—Trace would’ve punched him in the mouth by now.

As it was, keeping from reaching over and
choking the shit out of him was taking everything in Trace’s power. He still
wasn’t sure he wouldn’t do it, and he was tempted to sit on his hands to avoid
being taken out of the building in handcuffs. The only thing keeping him from
throttling the bastard was knowing that Marissa would be in even more danger
without him there.

That wasn’t going to happen.

That didn’t mean he was going to sit there
and listen to this dickhead.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Trace inquired,
ready to call an end to the meeting.

The surprise on Duchein’s face made Trace
smile.

“Excuse me? Do you have any idea who
you’re talking to?”

Trace pretended to study him momentarily.
“A prick in a suit, best I can assess.”

Duchein’s face reddened more. “I don’t—”

“See, this is the part where we ask you to
leave,” Casper chimed in, interrupting the man’s tirade. “First of all, we’re
not even sure what you’re talking about. Secondly, Marissa isn’t home, as
you’ve mentioned.”

Duchein’s brow furrowed. Clearly the guy
didn’t believe Casper.

“I—”

This time, RT interrupted him. “Thanks for
taking the time to meet with us, but we’ve got a business to run.”

At least Duchein had the good sense to
know when he was being dismissed. Considering the reputation they held, it was
in his best interest to get up and walk out, just as he was doing.

Casper got to his feet. “I’ll escort you
out.”

The moment the door closed behind them, RT
stood up. “Next time you’ve got a meeting planned with the feds, I’d like to
get a heads up. We don’t even know who this bastard is. Or if he’s really with
the ATF.”

“He is,” Bryce confirmed. “Don’t forget,
son, I’ve been running this company for a long damn time. I still know a thing
or two about investigating.”

Trace watched as RT paced to the large
window overlooking the concrete jungle surrounding them. Without looking back
at them, RT said, “I’m not gonna let him get close to her.”

“Nor will I,” Bryce stated. “Which leads
me to another discussion. I want everyone to meet at the house tomorrow
morning. We’ll nail down just how we’re gonna handle this moving forward.”

Trace knew that Bryce was hesitant to talk
about Marissa in the office. They still believed there was someone working from
the inside, sharing information on Marissa’s whereabouts, which had led to the
discovery of all five safe houses she’d been placed in.

“I want to know everything there is to
know about this guy,” RT clarified, looking directly at Trace.

Trace nodded. “I’m on it.”

“You’ll have to do that from my house,”
Bryce inserted. “I don’t want Marissa left alone for a second. And until I say,
no one else needs to know where she is.”

“Understood,” Trace agreed as he pushed to
his feet.

He wouldn’t be the one to share the
information, that was for damn sure. But clearly, someone else had been talking
already. The question was who.