Her stomach churned. There had been so much blood.
Don’t think about him. Don’t. Build that wall of ice again. Don’t feel. Don’t. Feel.
Three dead bodies. At least she hadn’t seen the light go out of Reed’s eyes.
But she’d looked at him, at his long body, and for an instant, she’d seen her brother.
Cale isn’t dead.
And Last Chance wasn’t the right password.
Of course, would it ever be that easy?
Her gaze flew around the room. Looking for something, anything to help her. Most people used passwords that reminded them of things they loved. Kids’ names, hobbies, favorite books, favorite—
There was a big poster of John Wayne on the guy’s wall.
The Duke was the password that let her in to his system.
Her shoulders hunched as she curled over the screen. Her fingers typed, faster and faster as she searched through the material. Files had been deleted, recently, too, but the person deleting hadn’t known what he was doing. Sure, he’d sent the material to the trash, then deleted the trash, but...
That wasn’t good enough.
Two more clicks of her fingers and she had the “deleted” files open.
One file was titled “Chances.” She clicked it and frowned as she read. It looked like a series of jobs. Not so much jobs as...maybe missions. Locations were listed. Dates. Then some sort of code names. Razor. Jumper. Deuce. Striker Two.
“What are you doing?”
She jumped. Jasper had come back. Moved so silently that she’d never even heard him enter the room. Cale was the only other man she knew who could move like that.
Her heart was in her throat, but she swallowed and managed to shove it back down where it belonged. “I found Reed’s laptop and recovered some files.” She frowned up at him. “He doesn’t name the men who’ve been working his jobs. They all have code names.”
His lips tightened. “There could be prints on that laptop.”
Prints. She hadn’t even—
“Put it down, carefully. Crime-scene techs will be coming soon.”
They’d find her prints all over the machine. Wonderful. Prints at a crime scene. Witness to two murders hours before. This wasn’t exactly the exciting life that she’d always craved.
Gingerly, she put the laptop on the old coffee table. “He lists names like Deuce, Razor, Striker—”
“Striker is the code name that your brother used.”
And her heart was right back in her throat. Her gaze flew to the screen. “His last job was... It was just three weeks ago. In...Phoenix?” That didn’t make any sense. “What kind of job would he be doing there?”
“You really don’t know him that well,” Jasper murmured.
Goose bumps rose on her arms. She stood, shaking. “Do you know what kind of job took him there?” She rubbed her forehead. “He saved people. That’s what he told me. He took rescue missions. When tourists were kidnapped and held for ransom, their parents couldn’t always pay, so he went in.” She didn’t like what Jasper was implying. “Cale is a hero,” she said again.
Jasper didn’t speak then. In that stark silence, Veronica wasn’t sure...was she trying to convince him that her brother was a good man or was she trying to convince herself?
“I’ve seen names like these before,” she whispered. Not those exact names, but similar ones. She rubbed a hand over her forehead. “They were scribbled on the backs of some old photos that Cale had at the house and—” She broke off, her eyes widening. “I’d seen him before.”
Jasper frowned at her.
“The tattoo on Reed’s arm.” She barely breathed the words. “That’s why it caught my eye at Last Chance. I—I’d seen it...in one of the pictures at the ranch.” She thought about Reed’s face, took ten years away from it, gave him hair... “He served with my brother.”