Page 167 of Brutal Collateral

“I’m pretty sure that’s a federal offense,” I say, even though I’m impressed we did it.

“I know it is, and when they catch the bastard whose IP it is, I hope his trial is on C-SPAN,” Shane answers wryly, explaining he ghosted the hack.

“Shane knows what he’s doing,” Griffin says proudly.

“What are we looking for?” I sit on Griffin’s lap, and his arms tighten easily around my waist.

We catch a few stares, but everyone goes back to what they were doing.

“Rand Miller’s service record,” Shane answers as his fingers swipe across the pristine metal laptop keyboard.

“For?”

“I have a hunch,” Griffin says. “The investigator in me never died.”

“Whatarewe doing about Miller?” I ask.

“We’re going to kill him.” Griffin keeps cold eyes on me. “But not for this stupid land deal.No onethreatens my wife and gets away with it.”

I go breathless at the savagery in his tone. My next thought is that I want in on this mission.

Something flashes on the screen and Shane grabs his laptop. “Got it!” he bellows as a snapshot of Rand Miller in Navy Whites appears on the wall-mounted screen.

I shudder at the sight of his official photo. All smug, entitled, chin forward, his arms behind his back.

“Holy...shite,” Shane bites out. “He’s got a laundry list of complaints against him.”

“Were any of them assigned to JAG?” I recall dealing with those files. “There would be record transfer orders.”

“No,” Shane says flatly.

“How many complaints?” Griffin asks.

Shane scrolls and the neon case numbers with hyperlinks against a dark screen go on and on. “How long was this fucker in the Navy?”

“At least ten years before me.” I watch the case numbers, waiting for something to click. “He went through BUD/S training four times. In that last class, he was beyond the age limit, but his father was a senator by then and probably pushed through a waiver.”

I’m also pretty sure he had the points in my class to move on to Jump School and would have walked away with the Trident. Had we not crashed into the rocks.

“Wait,” I yell at something on the screen that strikes a chord, pulling me from my thoughts. “That. Click that one with the triple zeroes in front.”

A file opens with several subfolders.

“Oh my God,” Griffin says, pointing. “Those areassaultcases.”

When he stares at me, I shake my head to signal that I’m not in there.Hadleighisn’t in there.

“What is Cherise’s last name, siren?” Griffin asks me.

“She’s married now, but her maiden name was Broussard. Why?”

Griffin takes the laptop from Shane and kills the Bluetooth feed to the monitor. He brings it over to me and shows me the report. “Miller raped her,” he whispers. “She reported it.”

“When?” I gasp, my eyes trying to stick to some kind of detail. “Oh no. During our training class. Why didn’t she ever tell me? I thought she could trust me?”

“Knowing the person you were then, I bet she was afraid you’d kill him.” Griffin strokes my cheek.

“For years I thought I did,” I whisper.

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