Page 69 of Freeing Lark

Hoot barely noticed. His thoughts were elsewhere. One word stuck front and center in his mind. Pray. Lark’s question had burrowed into his head and refused to leave.

What if Bullet hadn’t been asking them to pray? What if he’d been trying to tell them something? Hoot had spent eight years accepting that one word as his teammate’s final plea. A dying man’s request for grace or redemption.

But if Lark was right... what had Bullet been trying to warn them about? And why had he been killed immediately after saving his life?

Hoot leaned back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his beard. He should have been thinking about Calloway. The mission. The PSG connection.

Instead, his mind kept wandering to a woman with green-gray eyes and a mouth that had become far too good at distracting him. He could still feel her beneath his hands. Still remember the surprise of that first kiss. The second. The way she’d fit against him as though she’d somehow been designed to occupy the space beneath his arm.

It was ridiculous. Hoot wasn’t boyfriend material. He knew that. His life wasn’t exactly conducive to relationships. His work involved government contracts, dangerous people, classified information, and sometimes things that technically didn’t exist on paper.

Love had never been much of a word in his vocabulary. Not outside his parents. He’d loved them. Still did.

But romantic love? That was something other people had time for.

Then Lark had come crashing into his life. Literally. Several times. And now he was beginning to think of her as his.

The thought stopped him cold. His woman. His girl. He grimaced. There was no way in hell he was admitting that to the team. They already called her his girl every chance they got. He wasn’t giving them ammunition.

But was he falling in love with her? The question unsettled him more than it should have.

Hoot was still wrestling with it when the door flew open and Flint strode in. “Conference room. Now.”

Hoot straightened. Something in his boss’s expression wiped away every thought of Lark. “What happened?”

“Baker found something.” Hoot was on his feet before Flint finished speaking. Within seconds, the team was filing into the conference room.

Flint took his place at the head of the table while Haley brought up the secure connection. The big screen flickered, and Baker appeared. No ocean behind him this time. Instead, the screen showed a wall of Hawaiian greenery—palm trees, broad leaves, and enough tropical foliage to make Hoot wonder if Baker ever actually worked indoors.

“Morning, gentlemen.”

There was a groan that could only be described as coming from a female. “Don’t start,” Haley muttered.

Baker grinned. “I haven’t said anything.”

“You were about to.”

“Probably.”

Flint leaned forward, interrupting the banter before it could devolve. “What did you find?”

Baker’s expression sobered. “Calloway.” Hoot’s gut tightened. Baker pulled up a series of documents. “For the last nine years, Grant Calloway has gone completely dark every six months.”

“Define dark,” Flint said.

“No financial activity. No travel records. No communications that can be traced through conventional channels. His corporate accounts stop moving. His known residences sit empty. His electronic footprint basically disappears.”

“Where does he go?”

“That’s the problem. I don't know.” Baker brought up another screen. “But I found something interesting. Every time Calloway disappears, several shell companies connected to international arms brokers become active.”

Hoot leaned forward. “Arms?”

“Small arms. Explosives. Military-grade components. Guidance systems. Communications equipment.” Silence settled over the room. Baker continued. “And here’s where it gets interesting. Some of those same companies have transactions involving stolen or illegally obtained classified technology.”

Flint’s jaw tightened. “How much?”

“Enough.” Baker pulled up another file. “Calloway’s blackouts coincide almost perfectly with the movement of those materials. He disappears. The shipments move. He reappears a few weeks later, and the shell companies go dormant.”