Page 46 of Talk to Me

Finally, he handed it over. I snapped a picture of it so I could keep it. Then I typed the numbers into a notepad. The signal up here was shit. “We need to move down the mountain again,” I said. “And deal with the bodies.”

“We’re not splitting up.” Remington rose, fingers pressed against the table. “We’re going to become very familiar with each other.”

“Can’t wait,” I said. “But I don’t do dead bodies kind of like I don’t do dishes. So I’ll stick close, but you two get to do the fun shit with the dead people.”

“Pussy,” McQuade commented.

“Pussies push out babies. They are a fuck ton stronger than any of us, so I’ll take the compliment.” I smirked and his dirty look was worth it. “But I suggest, gentlemen, that for brevity, we get a move on.”

“Brevity…” Remington shook his head, a smudge of disbelief on the word.

“It means a short time, keeping it concise.” I tucked my phone into my pocket before draining my coffee.

“I know what it means,” Remington said. “McQuade, back your truck up. You have more space in it. We’ll ride together. I can send someone up here to get the other rentals.”

Oh yay, I got to ride in the back with the dead people. “I’ll get my equipment.” Not that either of them were listening. Still, we had the beginnings of a plan.

Might not be much but I’d done more with less.

Chapter

Fifteen

MCQUADE

Body disposal in winter was not my favorite thing. Add being in the U.S. to that and I was even less of a fan. Still, we all knew people. We just had to take the time to get to them. Locke bitched for about half the drive until we were in Boulder and finally heading out of the mountains. Then he had a signal and didn’t say a word.

Periodically, I’d glanced back to see him squinting at his laptop screen and typing. He must have been using his cell for signal. It was an actual dump, but we had a contact who would take care of the rest of the cleanup. They also had a very nice incinerator. It took a lot of heat to destroy a body completely.

A lot.

True to his word, Locke just got out of the way and let us hustle the bodies out.

Dick.

Once we were done, though, he identified the numbers. “Bank account,” he said. “Part of the wiring info for MD Professional Resources.”

MD. “That’s a Mad Dog outfit.” They had a few of them MD Outsourcing was another one. Bland, neutral names with boring profiles that masked their actual work. “They’re shady as fuck, have zero morals, and they’re basically thugs for hire. Calling them private military contractors is a joke.”

“You sound like you’ve worked for them,” Remington said, studying me.

“I did for about five minutes. Then I found out the type of jobs they take. I blew their bullshit op and got the fuck out of there.”

“So,” Locke said. “I’m going to guess they aren’t your biggest fans.”

“Nope.” They’d been part of the warning Patch gave me about that job offer. It was a trap, likely done by an MD subsidiary.

If those mother fuckers laid a finger on her, I was going to end every single one of them. There was an MD not far from here in Denver.

“Question,” Remington said, seemingly unperturbed by the icy breeze blowing around us. We could get in my truck and drive, but he made no moves in that direction. Locke had his laptop tucked under his arm. “What would they accomplish in taking Patch?”

I rubbed my hands together before I dragged my gloves out of my pocket. The last thing I needed was frostbite. “No fucking clue. She’s my operator. She funnels most of the jobs through to me, vets them when I ask for it.”

She was the quiet and the reason in the middle of a storm. She kept me sane when missions went sideways. More than once…

“She’s saved my life. So I don’t really give a fuck why they took her. I just need to know who so I can get her back.”

“We,” Locke corrected me. “That number could mean anything. But it is a lead.”