Page 32 of Every Which Way

Sure, she was going to just turn everything she had over so the FBI could have her case and do the investigation themselves? Right.

“Kenna.”

“Concrete evidence. Of course, no problem,” she said. “Pizza’s here, so I’ve gotta go.” She did the “love you” thing they did now and hung up so she could use her phone to pay for the food.

Kenna carried the stack of three boxes into the RV. “Why did we need this much pizza?”

At the same time, Bruce said, “You only got three?”

She set them on the table. “While you eat, you can tell us about your old friend.”

Ramon slid off the bench and took his slice to the front seat, which had been rotated so it faced in. He sat eating where he could see the whole RV. Like the way a dog in a pack would take his meal away from the others so no one tried to steal it. Whatever issues he had with food didn’t matter now. He had money and freedom, so he could eat whatever he wanted whenever. He would figure it out.

But she still prayed for him to find the kind of deep peace she’d found in Jesus. They could use some of that.

Bruce swallowed a huge bite. “My thing doesn’t matter. Revenge takes time and planning. If we have a case, then we’re gonna work that. I can figure my stuff out after.”

Stairns glanced at him. “That’s all you’re gonna say about it? All that bitterness is going to eat you alive.”

Bruce shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Whiskey isn’t going to solve your problems,” Ramon said. “Trust me, I know.”

“Maybe not, but it’s a decent distraction.” Bruce took another huge bite.

Kenna grabbed a slice for herself because fancy dinners were always tiny. She took what was left in the box to Maizie. “The dog doesn’t eat pizza.” She set the box on the bed.

Maizie looked at Cabot, then at her. “Um, sure.”

Kenna frowned. She pointed at Cabot and said, “No pizza,” then went back to the guys. “Bruce, what did this guy do to you anyway?”

When Bruce didn’t immediately answer, Stairns said, “The guy is shady as heck. He’s probably the one who got Bruce canned from the CIA.”

“Guess every time he said he had my back, he didn’t.” Bruce’s expression had a darkness to it that looked deadly. “If we can verify the theory.”

“Which is what will take time,” Stairns told Kenna.

“I’ll think on it while we work this case,” Bruce said.

She didn’t need to think about that one. “As long as you’re not distracted when we need your focus.”

“I’m good.”

“You do that, and as soon as we’re done with this case, all of us can help you. We’ll dig into this guy, find everything he’s ever done, and take him down.”

Ramon said, “There won’t be anything left of him when we’re done.”

She frowned. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”

Before she could continue, Bruce said, “But it’s how I like it.”

“Okay, then.” They could figure out how to mitigate the fallout of that later. Kenna leaned back against the counter. “We’re gonna work this like any other case. We find evidence and witnesses, we narrow our suspect list, and we find this person—and his victims.”

Maizie came to the door of the bedroom where the slider sectioned that room off from the rest of the RV. “You’re going to let me work a case?”

It could be that Maizie was only standing there to keep Kenna from seeing Cabot eating pizza out of the box, but Kenna didn’t ask. “Despite the fact it fills me with abject terror, yes. You’re here, so you can work with the rest of us.”

“I’ll have three bodyguards,” Maizie pointed out.

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