“Just got backin country,” his brother replied, using slang for he just finished a mission. That explained why his voice came through laced with fatigue and something else—worry. “I had a bad feeling. What’s going on? Give me an update.”
Dale hesitated for a moment, still not wanting to burden his brother with the mess, but right now, his gut was screaming at him to do just that. He always listened to his gut. “I’m at Sadie’s with some of the guys. Let me put you on speaker.” After placing the phone on the coffee table at the center of everyone in the room, he hit the button. “It’s been a rough few days, Cas.”
“How so? Is Dad all right? And Sadie?”
She shifted forward slightly, still petting Tesla. “I’m fine. So is your dad.”
“Good,” Cas said, relief evident in his tired tone. “So, what’s happened?”
“We found a machete in Sadie’s garage the other day,” Cooper replied before Dale had the chance.
“Then today,” RJ chimed in, “Hunter found another one at the beginning of the driveway at the ranch.”
There was a pregnant pause on the other end of the line, the silence heavy with tension. “What kind of machete?” Caspian finally asked in a stiff voice.
“Colombian Hawkbill,” Mac supplied.
Dale frowned. “Why?”
Did his brother actually know something? God, he hoped so. They needed a damn break. And fast.
“Send me a photo of it. Now,” Cas ordered, his tone rigid, and the timbre sent alarm racing through Dale’s body.
“On it.” Cooper yanked out his phone. “No reason for Dale to break the call.” The guy tapped his screen a few times before nodding. “Done.”
An uneasy silence prevailed. Sadie’s hand returned to Dale’s leg, and he covered it with his again. This whole thing was ridiculous. Like a weird version of cat and mouse, with no rhyme or reason, but a lot of waiting to escalate their worry.
He was damn tired of it.
“Son-of-a-bitch.” Cas’ muttered oath rumbled through the phone. “That’s a calling card.”
“Exactly what we thought,” Dale said, concern knotting his stomach. “Do you happen to know whose it is, Cas?”
“I knowexactlywhose it is,” Caspian replied, his words clipped. “That style of machete was used as a signature on a mission from twelve years ago. We took out…” His brother paused to clear his throat. “It’s the mark that the head of a Colombian cartel, Miguel Fernando Ortega used personally.”
Dean scratched his jaw. “I remember hearing about that mission. It was in Bogota, right?”
“Correct,” Cas answered. “But that piece of shit is dead, and as far as I know, the rest of the operation was shut down.”
Dean nodded. “It was.”
Dale frowned. “Then who the hell is using the signature?”
“Don’t know,” Cas muttered. “But I aim to find out.”
Alarm shot through Dale again as the implications of what his brother was saying began to sink in. “You think this could be connected? After all these years?”
“I don’t think, I know,” his sibling replied in a deadly serious tone. “Sadie and Dad are not the real targets. They’re ploys to get to me. I’m coming home. I’ll be there by morning.”
His shoulders stiffened. “You can’t just go AWOL.” He knew how much his brother valued his duty and commitment to the SEALs.
“I’m not going AWOL,” Caspian stated. “I’m taking leave. My superior will grant it when I show him these photos. I’ll be on the first flight out.”
“Text Cooper your ETA and info, and we’ll meet you there,” Mac said, and once again, Dale appreciated how much the guys were going above and beyond for them.
“Roger that,” his brother acknowledged.
Dale exhaled. “Cas, you sure you need to be here?”
