Dressed in jeans, a polo, and an FBI windbreaker, the man she’d hollered and turned their way.
“This is John Rockland.” Atwell ran through the quick introductions. “He’s a R.I.S.C. Delta Force operative helping with the case.”
“Call me Rocky.” He shook the other man’s hand.
“Graham.” Agent Beckham offered up his first name, as well. “Good to meet you.”
“And this is Raegan Perry.” Atwell tipped her head toward the woman Rocky had mind-blowing sex with less than an hour before. “She’s the reason we even know about Samer and this van in the first place.”
“Well, then.” The other man turned his appreciative dark gaze Raegan’s way. “It’s definitely nice to meet you.”
A massive rush of jealousy struck Rocky as he watched the two shake hands.
Cool your jets, dickhead. It’s a handshake, not a blowjob.
The thought created a barrage of recent memories he couldn’t keep from filling his mind’s eye. Raegan in her bedroom. Fully naked and on her knees. His hard, throbbing cock sliding in and out of her luscious mouth, as he held a gentle hand on the back of her head…
Beckham started for the van. “Come on. I’ll show you what we’ve got.”
Walking together, the group of four approached the back of the vehicle. The van’s double doors were splayed wide-open, exposing the vehicle’s interior.
“It’s empty.” Raegan’s disappointment was obvious.
“There’s not a lot to see, I’ll give you that.” Beckham acknowledged. “But that doesn’t mean we came up empty.”
“What do you mean?” Rocky’s focus shifted from the van’s bare floorboard to the other man standing nearby.
“The bomb’s not here, obviously. But the bomb dogs got a hit the second they got close to the vehicle. We still don’t knowwhere the explosive device is, but it was definitely in this van. Recently, too.”
“Residue?”
Beckham nodded. “And plenty of it. We also pulled several prints from the steering wheel, the doorhandles, the seat. We’ve got matches to Samer, as well as one of the other guys we have in custody from the bank robberies.”
“Elias Connors?” Raegan asked before Rocky had the chance.
But the other man shook his head. “Nah, this guy’s name is Jesse Mitchell.” To Atwell, Beckham added, “Agents Spencer and Harding are on their way back to the office to question him more, now.”
“Good.” Atwell approved. “Anything else?”
“Probably, but it’s going to take a while to go through it all.”
Rocky understood that. He could only imagine what a bitch it was to collect and sort trace evidence on a vehicle. Especially one like this.
“He didn’t wear gloves,” Raegan muttered beside him. “Samer, I mean.” She swung her gaze up to his. “He left this van here, knowing it would eventually be found and possibly scoured by the authorities. And yet, he didn’t bother wearing gloves.”
“Maybe he figured it would be stripped before we could find it.” Rocky theorized. “Or maybe he didn’t think his prints would be in our system.”
“No, it’s not that.” Raegan shook her head with certainty. “Every Iraqi soldier we trained was vetted upon our arrival three years ago. We collected their prints the first day we got there. I personally uploaded and ran them through myself.”
Dread filled Rocky’s gut as he processed what that meant. “He doesn’t care if we know it’s him.”
“Not anymore,” she agreed. “Might explain why he left the laptop behind. Especially if he thinks no one will be able to crack their way through his encryptions.”
“Okay, so we have proof Samer was in this van and that he’s at least come into contact with the bomb.” Atwell rejoined the conversation. “But he’s still in the wind, and the only reason Samer would have to switch vehicles would be if he were either getting nervous, or?—”
“He’s closer to his end game.”
All eyes turned to Raegan, but her focus was glued to the inside of that damn van.