“Perfect. You hungry? I’ll order us a pizza while we walk.”
Without waiting, Jake took off in the direction of Trace’s hotel. Whatever this man had to say had to be damned important for him to come all this way.
An hour later, Trace was shocked when Jake finally explained the unexpected reunion.
“You’re offering me a job?”
“I am.” Jake nodded.
Confused, Trace stared at the simple business card his former teammate had handed him. He read and re-read the embossed letters on the thick, expensive cardstock.
R.I.S.C., Inc.
The letters stood for rescue, intel, security, and capture. Trace knew this because he’d heard of the elite security firm before. Everyone in his line of work had.
R.I.S.C. was the best at what they did, because they were owned and led by the best.
Jake McQueen.
Back in their Delta days, McQueen had been a legend in his own right. A master in the field, and a man Trace and the others in their unit had followed without question.
Studying the other man closely, Trace noticed there were a few lines near his eyes that hadn’t been there the last time Trace had seen him. And the salt and pepper starting to show in Jake’s well-kept beard and hair matched his own.
But that wasn’t the only thing that had changed about the formidable man.
Sidestepping the job offer for now, Trace motioned to the black band on Jake’s left ring finger. “Married now, huh?”
“Almost three years.” A wide grin spread over the other man’s face. “We have a daughter, too. Lillian Rose. She’s the spitting image of her mom.”
“About damn time you nutted up and told that woman how you felt.” Raising his bottle of water, Trace said, “Congratulations. On the marriage and the kid. I’d love to meet your daughter, sometime, although I can’t believe you talked Olivia into staying with your sorry ass for the rest of her life.”
Jake chuckled. “Liv’s damn special, that’s for sure. Actually, you know her brother, too...Mike Bradshaw.”
“Bradshaw?” Trace sat up a little straighter. “The guy everyone thought was dead?”
Boy, if that wasn’t some crazy shit.
Trace had met the guy once. It was right after he’d been accepted into Delta. But then Bradshaw was gone, reportedly killed in a training accident.
With a nod, Jake swallowed a gulp of his own water before sitting the plastic bottle down. “That’s him.”
“Yeah, I remember. Guy was in a coma, right? The hospital got his and another soldier mixed up. The other guy died, and Bradshaw lived, but the names were switched so everyone thought it was the other way around.”
“That is the story.”
Trace studied his estranged friend closely. Clearly there was more to the story. Alotmore. And from the look on Jake’s knowing face, he knew the truth about what had happened.
Not my business, not my problem.
“Glad to hear it all worked out,” Trace commented. “For all of you.”
He’d also heard the story about Mike Bradshaw’s sister, who apparently was now Jake’s wife. That particular tale had made headlines around the world, so unless you lived under a rock during that time, there was no way to miss it.
Nearly three years ago, while on a volunteer medical mission in Madagascar, Olivia Bradshaw—who apparently was now Olivia McQueen—had been kidnapped and damn near sold into sex slavery. Lucky for her, she was rescued by an unnamed black ops team just in time to prevent that from happening.
A team Trace now suspected had been led by the man sitting across from him.
Back in the day, Jake had gone on and on about his friend’s sister. It was Olivia this, and Olivia that. Everyone knew the guy was head over ass for her. So, it really was great to see things worked out for the two of them.