looked at Cam. “You keep up the flights. Take photos. Send them back to Joel and Connor and see if they can make sense of what you’re seeing.”
Joel Kidd took the lead on Corcoran’s tech needs. He could make sense out of nonsense better than anyone Holt knew. And Connor was just about the most competent man on the planet. Holt trusted them to help all the way from Maryland.
“And what about Lindsey?”
“What are you talking about?” But Holt got Cam’s point. Connor led Corcoran by a few simple rules to get the job done—collect all the information you can before going in, trust your team and know that Connor would come behind you and clean up the mess.
“The Maryland office, Joel in particular, needs to rip her life apart. Investigate her.” Shane slipped into protocol-speak. When no one said anything, he looked around the closed-in room. “What, am I wrong?”
Cam shook his head. “He isn’t.”
Not in the mood for an argument, Holt conceded. He’d planned to conduct some research into Lindsey and her past. He’d just hoped to do it on a limited basis, without the entire Corcoran Team watching. Apparently that was not going to happen. “Fine.”
“She’s going to love it when she finds out we’re digging into her past,” Shane said.
Holt knew the easy answer for that. “We’re not going to tell her.”
“Yeah, I’ve found that’s not the best strategy with women. You think it’ll be fine, but it never works out that way.” Cam clapped a hand against Holt’s shoulder. “But you keep living in your fantasy world and thinking you control this thing with her.”
“I can.” Holt was impressed with how strong his voice sounded.
Cam shook his head. “I almost feel bad for you.”
* * *
LINDSEY SLIPPED OUT onto her porch later that evening. The sun had started to set and a stray cool breeze kicked up. Summers this close to the water and tucked into the base of the woods meant still needing a sweater some nights.
For as long as she could remember, she’d loved sitting outside, watching the sun go down. After years of living at the campground and adhering to all the rules, she enjoyed her freedom. No early morning rising for chores and gun practice. No lectures.
But tonight the air carried a chill and it cut right through her. She’d spent the day making contingency plans if she had to move out without notice. She’d contacted the former New Foundations members she helped place in alternative living situations and gone over the go codes and emergency evacuation drills.
Somewhere in there she’d done some research on Holt and the Corcoran Team. Not that there was much to find on him, but she’d had some luck on his group.
She walked over to where he stood by the edge, staring out into the yard and across the black water of the small lake fifty feet in front of it. He leaned with his palms resting against the railing. The move had him bending slightly, showing off those shoulders and his very impressive backside.
The faded jeans balancing on those hips. The muscles rippling to the point she could see them through the thin fabric of his T-shirt. She’d never noticed a man’s clothes before, but on him she noticed everything.
She stood even with him and listened to the sound of animals scurrying in the dark and the steady brush of leaves blowing in the wind. “So you’re always going to be hanging around here when you’re not working.”
He nodded without looking at her. “For now, pretty much.”
Even though his stance appeared relaxed, something about him seemed to be on high alert. She could feel the energy pulse off him. Watch his gaze as he scanned the area from one side to the other.
With him around she felt safe, and that was new. She’d learned early to depend on herself. Not expect anything. Hide and run and adapt. That had been her mantra to the day she found her way back to Justice, Oregon, only a few miles from the place that defined so much of who she was and how she saw the world.
As the months ticked by, exhaustion settled in. She helped other members of New Foundations get out. Laid the groundwork and found them new living arrangements. Through her past had the contacts to change identities and keep them safe.
She’d only worked with a few because breaking the silence barrier at the compound proved almost impossible. She had to wait until someone said something to someone and it filtered through contacts back to her. Then came weeks of secret meetings as she built trust.
The whole strategy could be tedious and never amounted to enough. The campground still loomed.
But last night, for the first time in years, she slept without moving and jerking and waking up every few hours. She wanted to think handling the two armed men who stormed her house had something to do with it, but she knew a large thank-you went to Holt. He’d stayed on her couch and kept his promises. Harm did not come knocking and he did not do anything to scare her.
And now they’d arrived at night number two. “I’ve decided it’s okay for you to stay.”
He threw her the side eye before going back to his visual tour of the property in front of them. “You just figured that out now?”
It was amazing how she could start thinking good things about him and working up a warm fuzzy feeling and then he’d talk and—boom—the goodwill fizzled. Communicating did not appear to be where they excelled. “I looked into the Corcoran Team.”
He turned then. Stood up and gave her his full attention. “Okay.”
“I’m thinking I saw a sanitized version, like the version you and your people were okay with me seeing, but I was able to find some references.” After an internet search turned up bland and unhelpful results, she’d called in some favors to help her get through a firewall or two. She had a bit of inside information on the group.
“That’s kind of the point. It’s hard to work undercover, which we sometimes need to do, if everyone can find your face all over social media.”
“Makes sense.” And the information she’d found bore that out. The group had taken on huge companies and small governments, the NCIS and government contractors. The only allegiance the members appeared to have was to each other. “Even confirmed your existence on the team with your boss.”
That had been an interesting exercise. She’d seen a few references to Connor Bowen, the owner and leader, and to one other member of the team, a former NCIS agent, but no one else. There could be two guys on the team or two hundred and there was no way for her to tell just by searching around.
The wall of secrecy extended to the team’s location and exactly what they could do and how much the government knew about their work. There had been exactly one photo, an older one of Connor Bowen. He had the tall, dark and handsome thing down. Looking at Holt, Lindsey wondered if “speech-stealing hot” was some sort of job requirement for this group.
Connor’s deep and reassuring voice had matched the confident look he wore in the photo. He hadn’t sounded all that shocked about Holt giving away his identity, but Connor had made her repeat three times the part about Holt playing
