Page 37 of Harris

“Hooyah.”

The cheer rang out from around the table. The Navy SEALs battle cry sent chills down Harris’s spine. No one with an ounce of sense would dare get in their way. Unfortunately, the Noah Group members lacked this basic requirement, which would be their downfall.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Woodley

Woodley was sick of lying in bed all day and was thankful to be up and moving again. He was nearly completely healed and could now move without serious pain. It had taken the better part of a week, and without assistance from Renee and Mrs. Greer, that time would have tripled.

The team had been in and out all week, checking in between undercover missions and following some of the new division’s key players. The rental was quiet as he poured himself a second coffee. His body was crying out for caffeine.

“You’re looking much better,” Brick said as he walked into the kitchen holding an empty mug.

“I’m feeling better,” Woodley said. “Almost back to one hundred percent.”

“Good,” Brick said. “Look, I’ve meant to thank you for what you did. I’m well aware that I wouldn’t have survived a hit like that.”

“You’re welcome,” Woodley said. “And thank you for what you’re trying to do, stopping the Noah Group. Most people will never know what’s happening behind the scenes, and a lot wouldn’t lift a finger even if they did.”

“We’ve come a long way from wrestling on my front porch.” Brick laughed.

“I could still take you,” he joked.

“Dream on.” Brick laughed even harder. “I’d have you crying for your momma in under two minutes.”

Woodley knew that was as sentimental as the hardcore Navy SEAL team leader got, at least with anyone other than his partner, Roman.

“How is the investigation going?”

Brick placed his cup on the counter and reached for the half-full coffeepot.

“Slower than I would like.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It appears the group has pulled back since the incident at the hotel. They’ve been keeping a low profile, and we’re finding it hard to get any real read on them. Word’s out on the street that taking on any odd jobs for the group could be hazardous for your health after what happened to the last gang members who shot at us.”

“Good. How’s the tequila angle going?” he asked before sitting at the table.

“We’ve followed every order above six bottles and still haven’t found Soloman’s primary residence. We’re thinking of lowering the bottle count, but by how Jennifer describes it, the dude is a heavy drinker and wouldn’t likely order only a few bottles at a time. The asshole travels below radar, and every time we think we have a read on him, he’s gone.”

“Hmm, I’d think the same about the size of his orders, considering his love of tequila, but perhaps he stocked up before we began following him. If we’re lucky, he’ll run low soon and re-up.”

“Could be. We’ll stay on this course for a bit longer before making any changes.”

“Probably for the best.”

Brick leaned back against the counter and gulped his black coffee. He looked like he had something else on his mind but wasn’t sure how to say it.

“What’s up?” He cut to the chase.

Brick set his cup on the counter.

“It’s about Harris.”

“What about him?” he asked, hoping it wasn’t some kinda intervention or warning.

“There’s no denying Harris and I have a rocky history.”

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