Page 75 of Chasing Grace
Fuck off, dickhead.
Want me to come?
No. T’s here.
“I’ve been looking for someone with the initials J.R., not someone who goes by Junior. Who shot you in Jordan?” Jay asked.
“I already told you. I don’t know,” she answered. “I was never told. You probably know more than I do. Check the file.”
“I can’t. The file’s been scrubbed. Colonel, you said you never got an answer?”
“I tried,” her father spat, sitting down hard in the chair Z had at the ready. “Bastards wouldn’t tell me. Classified for security reasons.”
“So, Gray got herself shot in Jordan. No surprise there. What’s the big deal?” Huddled in a corner, Canker Face sported a look as nasty as the swelling on his noggin.
“Shut the fuck up, Hoyt,” Cody growled, his expression indicating he wanted to add another lump to the asshole’s melon.
“Tell us about the hospital,” Jay said.
Gray joined the group around the computer. The men parted for her, and Tak gave her hand a squeeze.
“Honestly, there’s nothing to tell. After I was transferred to Miami, he came to the hospital. He said he wasn’t supposed to be there, but he wanted to apologize. He did, and he left.” She shrugged. “He came back a couple of times. Asked me out once or twice. He never gave me his name, but one of the nurses called him Junior, so that’s how I referred to him. That’s all I know. I swear.”
As she talked, Jay processed. With a couple of clicks, he replaced her texts with a picture of a young-looking man in a marine uniform. “Is this the guy?”
“Yeah, that’s him. He said it was an accident. He didn’t mean to—”
“Who is he, and what are you suggesting?” the colonel demanded.
“His name was Jonas Johnson Junior, sir.” Jay added another picture to the screen side by side with the first. “This is his father.”
Jumping out of his seat like he just realized he’d parked his ass in an electric chair, the colonel stared in shock. Jonas Johnson Senior, Secretary of the Department of Homeland Security, stared back, the flag of the United States of America prominently displayed in the background.
“Motherfucker,” Z said, his voice echoing in the silence of the room.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
Experiencing déjà vu,Grant listened to the JTT work through the problem.
“We have no hard proof,” Adam said from New York. “Do you have your pictures from Jordan, Gray? Maybe there’s something there?”
Gray snorted. “Hell no. I was bleeding out at the time. It was either plug the hole in my leg or grab the memory card. I went with option one, and my camera went MIA. By the way, you owe me a new Nikon and a thousand bucks’ worth of climbing gear, dickhead.”
“Doesn’t matter. He’s our guy,” Jay said with as much certainty as he could while choking down a laugh.
“How sure are you?” the colonel asked, turning his frown from his daughter to his analyst.
“One hundred and twenty percent,” Jay replied, getting serious quick.
Grant had to agree with the intelligence officer. Minus the gun on his hip, the man’s disheveled appearance suggested he should be panhandling for spare change on Main Street. But the logic he threw out sounded convincing. Every damn piece of the puzzle fit.
The Secretary of the Department of Homeland Security had to be the faceless Mr. Wright. The bastard who’d brought these men together was the bastard they’d spent the last two years looking for.
“It makes sense,” Chase said. “Johnson knew every move we made before we made it. He was one step ahead of us the whole time.”
Heads nodded around the room.
“So, what’s Johnson’s endgame?” Adam asked.
