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He risked a lot meeting with his team leader in person, but Jace needed an update, fast.
The meeting spot was too close to the apartment complex where he currently lived, but he couldn’t risk riding his bike. Too conspicuous. Instead, he changed into worn jeans and a shirt with a baseball team logo on it, then stuffed his long hair into a baseball cap. For good measure, he carried a baseball glove. Now, as he walked on the sidewalk toward a local park, he looked like an average guy on his way to a game with friends.
The sun sank behind fluffy clouds, turning them gold and pink as he entered the field. Jace punched the glove as if eager for a game, skirted the bleachers that contained a few people watching a game in progress. Stadium lights buzzed into life, illuminating the darkening field.
Rafael Jones Rodriguez lingered by the chain-link fence near the bleachers, eating a chocolate bar and studying the game as if it held all the answers in the world. Rafe, who was about the same height and build as Jace, had the same dark hair, but any resemblance ended there. With his striking good looks and dark eyes, Rafe was a lady-killer. Gray feathered his temples, making him look older than his thirty-five years. Rafe had seen a lot of action in his career with the FBI, and sometimes Jace wondered what secrets he held.
They’d been good friends growing up together. Jace’s mother worked for Rafe’s family, cleaning their house, and Rafe had taken Jace under his wing, teaching him Spanish, sticking up for him when other kids bullied him and Jace wanted to fight. They’d lost track of each other when Rafe graduated, but after the breakup with Kara, when Jace felt lost, he’d contacted Rafe to get advice about moving on.
Rafe told him to apply to the Bureau. He needed good men on his team like Jace.
A pink scar snaked down his neck, vanishing into the collar of his red polo shirt. Rafe had gotten the scar during an op that went south about a year ago. Two agents on his team were killed and Rafe spent six weeks in the hospital, fighting for his life. Since then, Rafe had returned to duty, but seemed more guarded than ever.
But they’d caught the bad guys. Guy put his own life on the line for his team, no questions asked. But he also didn’t put up with any BS from them, either.
Rafe didn’t glance up as Jace approached. “I take it you walked here and didn’t ride.”
“Yep. You?”
Rafe made a quick gesture with his hand. Jace glanced around and saw a gleaming Harley parked in the space closest to the field. “Sweet. New? What happened to the Triumph?”
“Sold it. Bitch to start ever since the surgery. Needed an electric start, so bought the Harley.”
“Good game?” Jace asked.
“Not bad. Horner’s Plumbing and Hardware could use a better outfielder, but they’re beating Davidson’s Medical Supplies.” Rafe took another bite. “I love baseball. Even amateurs.”
For a minute they stood in silence, watching the players. Jace punched his glove.
“I have a number. Overheard Lance needs two hundred thousand for Marcus.”
Rafe didn’t look at him. “That number will buy a lot of weapons. Or something bigger the DP plans.”
Nodding, Jace felt his stomach lurch as he remembered the violent rhetoric tossed about the clubhouse recently. “Lance said Marcus wants to make a statement, loud and clear.”
“A statement,” Rafe mused. “Same chatter we’ve been monitoring. We still don’t have a target. But whatever is going down is big unless it’s all talk and bluster, and nothing solid.”
“The target is local and he plans to make the execution of his plans public for all to see. That much I know. But Lance needs to score big on tonight’s smash-and-grab to pay for it. He has a buyer in Miami who will pay cash, untraceable bills, for the jewels, soon as he returns from New York.”
Rafe finished his candy bar. “What about Marcus? Anything on him, anything at all?”
“Something that might come in handy.” He told him about finding PrisonerXYZ’s text on Big Mike’s cell. “The message was cryptic. I didn’t have time to investigate further. Big Mike is already suspicious of me.”
“I’ll check it out. You watch yourself. Anything else?”
“Lance won’t even blink without direction from Marcus.” Jace squinted at the baseball field, where someone had just hit a home run. “I did get something on him. Marcus did time and got out two years ago. Went underground after to run the DP. No more riding in the open. Big Mike said Marcus found something in prison and it wasn’t the good Lord.”
Rafe’s gaze darted to him. “He found purpose?”
“That’s what I think. Lance shut Big Mike up pretty quick after he spilled that. I don’t think Mike was supposed to blather about Marcus’s prison time.”
“State prison in Florida? Any idea of the charges?”
Jace rubbed his neck. “Tried to open up a convo about it without being obvious. I mentioned my record and doing time in jail and how bad it was, and Mike just laughed and said Marcus did the big time, not like me.”
“Federal charges,” Rafe mused. “That doesn’t give us a lot, but I’ll have Darkling run records, see if anything pops up.”
“Maybe this PrisonerXYZ is Marcus.”
