Aimpoint, Candace Irving [best love novels of all time TXT] 📗

my way out of your office. I caught another case. Well, mission. Get this, since I'm still in Germany, and your boss has refused to let me do more than hold your purse, NCIS decided to loan me out. A security gig for some Turkish general. No details yet, so I don't know how much juggling will be involved."

Crap. She had details. Several big ones. Any of which could be significant. And now she'd lost her dedicated backup. "Great."

Mira's brow rose. "You said you were good to go."

"I am." Mostly. "It's nothing Jelly and I can't handle. Though I'm beginning to doubt Ava's gossip regarding LaCroix. He's just not biting—but his friend is."

"The gorilla at the table?"

"That's the one." Like her, Mira wasn't fond of muscle-bound men, and for the same reason. "He's—wait—they're both still out there, aren't they?"

Had she made a mistake in coming in here? Had she caused them to lose track of LaCroix?

Her panic eased as Mira nodded. "Yeah, they're there. Huddled up and hashing through something intensely by the looks of it. I couldn't make out what they were saying as I passed. Given their huddle and no sign of you, I was worried you'd slipped in here to send an SOS."

"No, I was just creating space. Trying to shake the big one. Name's Garrison. He's a captain. Also SF. I think I need to switch my aimpoint." Think, hell. She knew. She just hadn't wanted to accept defeat so easily. Especially since they could ill afford it.

Still, the strategy shift might not be a bad thing. Agent Jelling had focused on Garrison and LaCroix's records while she'd scripted and arranged the details of her cover. Everything in Jelly's brief had pointed to Garrison being in the clear.

But what if they'd missed something? Something that would explain that comment.

"As I said, LaCroix is not interested. Garrison is. Also, on my way in here, I heard Garrison say, 'Damn it. I said I'd deal with it.'"

"You think they're both in on it?"

"Maybe." Regan channeled her frustration into a sigh. "I only had time for a cursory look at Garrison's file. Though Jelly cleared him, I figured I'd need the basics if I ran into him, since they live in the same complex. His file's squeaky clean. Though it did appear to be loaded down with a number of the Army's heaviest medals." Which meant the captain had also endured the barrage of back-to-back combat tours and drumming stress that usually went with earning those medals.

And there was that look in his eyes when they'd begun talking. It still gave her pause. Garrison could be burned out or just having one hell of a shitty week.

Like her.

And hers hadn't even gotten started yet. Not the worst of it.

Professionally or personally.

Regan pushed out another sigh. It didn't help any more than the previous one. "I don't have a decent enough bead on Garrison to gauge him."

Doubt pinched her friend's brows. "Platt didn't give me the impression there was a third asshole on this. Nor were there any calls to Garrison or any other SF colleagues."

True. But, "Platt may not have known." Nor did they. Not really. That was what was so maddening about this. Especially on her end. Unlike Mira, she hadn't even been able to question Scott Platt, much less get a bead on him.

As for LaCroix, a Navy SEAL Mira knew—who also knew LaCroix—had come through with a bit more information the night before. According to the SEAL, LaCroix's attitude had been on a downward spiral for the past year. The SEAL hadn't known why.

Would Garrison?

And did the captain share LaCroix's deteriorating attitude?

They needed to find out, and soon. As much as she hated to admit it, Brooks was right. That call their stateside sailor had overheard and those phone records were still circumstantial at best. The SEAL's opinion, hearsay. They needed hard evidence linking LaCroix to terrorism. It was up to her to get that evidence. And as things stood tonight, there was only one clear path to obtaining it.

Garrison.

"Rae?"

She shook her head. "Just thinking." Planning. Because the decision had already been made. Since the moment she'd heard that comment as she passed Garrison's and LaCroix's table. "I'm switching my focus."

"The gorilla?"

"Yeah. Do you have time to go to my office? Pull up everything we have on him. Go over it again and see if you can find a connection to Platt." LaCroix had one. Lack of calls or not, if Garrison was involved in whatever was going down, there was a chance he was connected to Platt too. She'd need to know what that connection was if she hoped to abuse it.

"Consider it done. And you?"

"I'm still leaving here with someone tonight." Just not the one she'd assumed. No matter. Like any soldier, she accepted her targets of opportunity when and where she found them. And then locked and loaded.

"Be careful. The big guys often come with bigger egos. And they do so like to have them stroked."

That was what she was counting on. Unfortunately for the tenacious captain, his swollen ego was all she planned stroking.

Regan nodded and left the latrine. Ten steps down the hall and a short turn into the still-crowded Bavarian bar, she knew she'd made the right call. LaCroix might've been seated when Mira arrived, but he was gone now. Garrison, however, was waiting. Even better, he too had vacated his table—to station himself beside the main door, every muscle in that mountainous body letting her know he had no intention of missing her departure.

He caught sight of her and headed over. "You still waiting for your friend?"

Regan shook her head. "Just got a text. Something came up on her end, so we've rescheduled. It's getting late anyway. I need to call a cab."

"You're staying on post? At the Sunrise Lodge?"

She nodded. "I haven't decided if I want live in town yet."

"You should. You'll see more of the locals and get a better grasp of the language. But skip the